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chiroptophobiawrites · 4 months

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Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)

Context: reader is a hero sorta and on the same team as Damian and a couple other heroes, and they all go to school together. This is kinda in the middle of a larger story so it might be a bit confusing but hopefully not. (there is also a line in there about hair products written with a curly haired reader in mind but anyone can read it! <3)

a/n: Mentions of hooking up, some cursing, and allusions to something physical that happened between Damian and reader. also the reader (and damian) are implied to be an upperclassman in either high school or college, your choice.

Your crossed feet thunked against the wooden cabinets underneath the smooth granite counter you sat on as you swung them back and forth. Your soiled shirt draped over the side of one of those sinks that look like a glass bowl resting on the counter. Your head leaned back against the long mirror that stretched the length of the entire wall. It was cool against the back of your head and you hoped the products you'd put in your hair this morning before leaving for school wouldn't leave a mark on your friend's parent's rich person mirror.

You were already regretting coming here and it had been less that an hour since you had gotten here. A party on a Friday night was an okay idea you guessed, but not tonight. Some people used this kind of thing to decompress, and you could sometimes; but most times, like right now, it was more overwhelming than anything. Which is why you were hiding in this oversized and oddly decorated guest bathroom on the third floor.

If it hadn't been Cynthia and Connor's house you probably would have gotten lost, but you had been here before a couple of times. The third floor was off limits to most people at the party as it lead to the bedrooms, and despite Connor loving to show off his house, he didn't want people hooking up in his bedroom. You had passed his room on the way to the bathroom, his door was ajar so you could see the ninja turtles sheets on his bed. His behavior was always a little saddening to you, putting himself and others into situations meant to make them look cool and grown, like this party, but still just being a kid. oh well, freshman are weird like that. You closed the door and kept your thoughts to yourself.

The reason you were here in the bathroom in the first place lie almost forgotten soaking in the sink, as you got lost in your thoughts a bit. The booming music coming from the massive speakers downstairs reminded you of the gaggle of people embarrassingly gyrating in pretty much every area of the first two levels of the house. When you had first arrived you'd tried dancing a bit with the friends you came with. This was quickly ruined by the obnoxious tall guy in your English class slamming into your back and slinging his arm over your shoulder to start a conversation with you and another one of your friends in that class. However with all his slinging around he'd spilled like half of his mystery drink on your shirt.

In response to your surprise at having liquid spilled down the entire right half of your shirt, he'd made a horrible joke about you just needing to ask if you wanted some and went to hold his cup to your lips. You'd pushed away from him and scoffed before hustling away towards the nearest bathroom. You could hear the calls of some of your friends fading under the loud music, but Cynthia caught up to you.

"Not these." She gestured towards the bathroom door by the two of you. "You can go upstairs babe, and stay as long as you need to. I had hoped that this would make you feel a little better but," She trailed off, looking at you a bit guiltily.

You sighed, "It's fine." You patted her shoulder and started to head in the opposite direction towards the stairs, "If I find any stragglers up there I'll send them down."

"Thanks!" She called out after you, dragging out the word in a singsong way.

So now you are here in the bathroom without your shirt with party rock anthem blaring through the door. You stare up at the lights above the mirror until a knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. No one else should be up here but it could be Cynthia, or Connor, or someone who just really needs to pee and can't wait downstairs for people to stop making out in the bathrooms. You figured if it was someone who needed to go you would let them and then send them back downstairs. You found yourself wishing that you had grabbed a replacement shirt from Cynthia or Connor's rooms when a voice called through the door.

"I know you are in there (y/n)." Aside from being really creepy it also came from the person you wanted to see the least tonight, Damian. He called out your name again, and you felt the doorknob jiggle under your hand. "Could you open the door? We need to talk."

Honestly nothing sounded worse right now. There was a reason you had been avoiding him since Wednesday, but this morning he had caught you off guard. You weren't ready for a repeat of that.

"Third floor is off limits, didn't you see the caution tape?" You voice came off far less solid than you intended and you cursed it for making you seem so unsure.

It was a silent for a minute before his voice cut through the muffled music again, "Just open the door, I'm not running in circles with you anymore." He sounded really agitated and the thought quickly turned your stress into anger.

How dare he be annoyed when he was the one in the wrong, you were the only one with the right to be angry in this situation. After he'd laughed in your face in response to even the slightest insinuation of there being something between the two of you. It had happened on Wednesday night, you had gotten off of work and since your guardian was using the car it meant you needed a ride. You'd known this early in the day and asked Damian during lunch if he could could come get you, promising to pay him in goodies from your work place. He had side eyed you and did that little teeth sound he always did before making a jab about you always needing a ride to something. But he hadn't disagreed so you knew it meant he was coming; besides you knew that he loved driving, especially at night, and wouldn't pass up the opportunity to drag you along with him.

You had known him long enough to settle into a routine with him at this point, so it didn't feel like you were burdening him by asking. Regardless of how much he complained about basically anything you ever asked him to do, he would always do it.

So on Wednesday night he showed up 15 minutes early and waited inside until your shift was over. You said goodbyes to your coworkers after deflecting questions for the past 15 minutes about Damian being your boyfriend, and joined him to walk to his car. You sat down in the passengers seat and his hand quickly found its way to rest on your leg. It wasn't at all new for him to do this but it always made you feel a bit odd. It wasn't like you weren't okay with it, but maybe that was what bothered you so much. This kind of thing felt like something friends don't really do, you tried to excuse it by saying that Damian didn't like to have a lot of friends, but was super close with the ones he did have. But you had never once seen him do this to Jon or Maya or Maps or Colin, and you would always get that weird feeling in your stomach again.

Once you got going on the way home you chattered about what had happened during that shift and he listened, nodding and interjecting where he had thoughts. His hand still burned on your thigh and you fought the urge to shift around. You were almost to your house, and almost at the point in your story when he had shown up and your co-workers had both teased and applauded you for having such a 'dedicated and attentive boyfriend'. He pulled in front of his house and you went to unbuckle your seatbelt but he kept his hand on your leg, anchoring you to the seat.

"uh, we're here" you tried to laugh but it came out awkwardly.

"You didn't finish your story." he didn't break eye contact and just waited patiently for you to start talking again.

You hesitated but started talking again so that you could get rid of the warmth from his hand on your thigh and stop thinking about all the things it could mean, as soon as possible. "yeah uh, well then you came in and Tracy kept calling you my boyfriend so then the other two came over and they all started teasing me. I guess the only time Tracy and Lori get along is when they are going after someone else." You laughed softly.

He hummed in agreement but didn't move his hand off of your leg. He just kept staring at you. You started to feel a little self conscious under his gaze and once again fought the urge to squirm in your seat. You were at least comforted by his lack of reaction to people mistaking him as your boyfriend, though you weren't all that surprised. People commonly mistook you for a couple in public. It had gotten so common that Damian had just started going with it, and you decided to follow suit.

All of this had gotten you thinking and you stopped averting your gaze and looked Damian right in the eyes. "Hey I-" You started with confidence and then he squeezed your leg, making you falter.

"Yeah?" He tried to urge.

"- What. Um. What are we Damian? Like are we dating or," You blurted out and tried to read the emotion in his eyes. "Or I am I reading way too much into this? Cause I mean I just, well we do stuff like this and going out to like date spots, just the two of us, and also that one time after, well you know what I'm talking about and-"

"Are you serious?" He cut you off abruptly, and did this odd sort of scoff/huff/laugh thing he always did when annoyed. He studied your face for a second and then looked like he was realizing something. He all but yanked his hand away from you and his expression dropped with the feeling in your stomach. You'd done something wrong, really wrong.

You felt sick, and even sicker as he started to laugh, hunching himself over the steering wheel. "You really-" He looked back over at you and started laughing even more. He stopped suddenly while looking at you and you wanted so badly to cry. "Get out of my car." He said quietly, but you were frozen in your seat. "Now." He demanded, much louder than before.

You scrambled for the door handle and rushed out into the cold night air outside side of the car. You shut the door behind you without turning around and hustled to your door without turning back once. But you could hear his car start and rush off the moment the door shut. Once you got inside your house you let yourself cry, kicking off your shoes and going to collapse in your bed.

After a couple of minutes of wallowing in your own misery face down on your bed, your phone dinged with a message. You thought maybe it was from your guardian reminding you to turn off the hallway light so that it didn’t drive the electric bill up, so you picked your phone up to respond. It was from Damian and you quickly regretted giving everyone the same text tone instead of the personal ones they had on your last phone.

The text read simply: We will talk about this in the morning when I pick you up.

It felt like how things were when you first met Damian and every little thing about what he said or did set you off in annoyance. In particular his phrasing made you angry even though you knew he meant nothing by it, he just says things directly. But it felt like he was your dad and you were about to wake up to a huge lecture, so you left it for a couple of minutes. Eventually, after a bit more wallowing, you decided that you didn’t wanna see him at all. If he was gonna laugh at you like that, then what was the point at all.

You texted him back: No that’s okay, Cyn said she wanted to give me a ride since she hasn’t in a while. Then quickly switched over to facetime Cynthia and beg her to give you a ride to school by explaining the situation.

Fine. First class then. He texted back, but you didn’t respond.

So the next morning you loaded into Cynthia’s Jeep and sat sandwiched between way too many of Cynthia’s friends that you barely liked, starting to remember why you started asking Damian for rides in the first place. When your first class arrived you luckily didn’t have to talk to Damian as the activity in class kept you pretty busy. And so for the rest of the day you successfully avoided him, opting to eat lunch with Cynthia’s friends instead of your usual table, and ignoring his gaze on you at all times.

Once you got home, you had gotten a couple of texts from Jon about you ditching them at lunch today, full of emojis. You laughed about them and texted him back assuring that you weren’t ditching them and that you’d be back tomorrow. You felt a little bad so you decided that you’d get over yourself and not go to such extreme lengths to avoid Damian. You still weren’t gonna talk to him though, except for one little bit.

You had a text from him that said: You are avoiding me. So you let your pettiness get the better of you and sent back: duh.

You had figured that from that he would get the hint and not come to pick you up the next morning. Besides it was Friday so your guardian had off of work, which meant that you could use the car. But when you came down the stairs earlier this morning, there was Damian, standing in your kitchen and listening politely to your guardian. You had assumed the smell of food coming upstairs had meant that your guardian was cooking something since it was their off day, but from the looks of it Damian had come early today to make you breakfast. It made you feel uneasy, and a little bit guilty, but then angry at your guilt. You shouldn’t feel bad for ignoring him the way you had been, he had laughed at you and kicked you out of his car, you kept reminding yourself.

Your guardian seemed pleased as they were won over easily by food, the traitor, but you were not so easily bought. You sat at the table and glared at Damian when he slid a plate of food toward you.

Your guardian hummed and made a face at you, “Be nice.” they said softly, and then raised their voice to address both of you, “Well now that Damian is here, he can drive you to school and I can run those errands I needed to. Isn’t that great!” You stiffened and Damian nodded in agreement.

Your guardian got up and grabbed their stuff to start walking to the door and you got up to follow after. “ Wait but I-“ you panted rushing after them. The swirled around to face you and set their face seriously, “Work out whatever is going on with the two of you, it’s for the best.” They leaned over to kiss your forehead and then called out loud enough for Damian to hear “Don’t be late now, bye.” and then closed the door.

You stood there frustrated but grabbed your things and decided to just ignore Damian. This proved to be especially hard once you were in the car together and there was a distinct lack of warmth from his hand on your thigh. The two of you spent most of the ride in silence, with Damian constantly glancing between you and the road and looking increasingly frustrated each time, and you glaring out the window. When you finally arrived at school you basically jumped out of the car once he had parked and rushed into the building but could hear him calling after you. This time for the rest of the day he stopped trying to talk to you, and was absent at lunch so you had figured that he had given up. But now with him calling to you from the other side of the door you guessed he hadn’t.

The song downstairs transitioned into something a bit calmer and you felt like it might be best to just resolve this now so you didn’t ruin your weekend by stressing the whole time. A small part of you held onto the hope that it was all a misunderstanding and a consequence of Damian’s somewhat harsh communication style.

“fine” you huffed and moved to open the door just a crack so that you could stick your head out to talk to him but use the door to cover up your state of undress. But of course cause nothing is easy with him, the moment you unlocked the door he pushed it all the way open. He stood in the doorway for a second with slightly wide eyes, and you were sure if you could see yourself you would have mirrored his expression.

You both snapped back into yourselves at about the same moment with him quickly stepping into the bathroom fully and closing the door behind him. You however panicked at the same time and hissed out “Turn around! Damian oh my god! Did you just lock it!?” and turned yourself around to face the wall as if that would stop him from seeing you.

He followed your instruction and turned around to face the opposite way from you. You thought you were safe for a while as the room was filled only with the sounds of breathing from both of you and beat from the music downstairs.

After a couple moments of this Damian murmured out so quietly you could barely hear it, “This mirror is fucking huge.” You felt your skin immediately heat and prickle and swirled around to make direct eye contact with Damian through the mirror.

“Swap!” you immediately cried out and the two of you rushed to switch places so that he was facing the wall and you were facing the mirror. You stared at the reflection of his back as all sorts of thoughts swam around in your mind, threatening to spill out through your mouth. You needed him to go first so that you didn’t say something you would regret, again. Luckily he started to speak again quickly.

“What happened on Wednesday. I,” He paused for a second to consider how to phrase the next statement, and it made your heart squeeze a little bit because he was trying to say it right and not offend you. Usually he said things as they came to him, not worrying a too much about how it affects others, but with you he always chose carefully. Not because he thought you were sensitive, but because he cares about what you think of him. “ Reacted badly. I was surprised and,” he paused again made his little tt noise in frustration and embarrassment, “ a bit hurt. I guess.”

You watched his posture tighten as he said it and your eyes widened in response. His vulnerability was not entirely uncommon to you but it still wasn’t something you encountered frequently. It was typically reserved for late nights sitting on a roof somewhere when everything had just been all too much. You moved past your surprise as his vulnerability and found yourself more confused than anything at his statement. He was hurt? Why was he hurt? He had laughed at you, not the other way around. The song from outside transitioned again, this time into that one Katy Perry song, last Friday night or something.

Before you could help it, the thought came barreling out of your mouth, “You? How were you offended?” you scoffed. A part of your brain screamed at you to stop. Usually you had far more tact, especially when Damian was open with you like this. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, he was rubbing off on you, you guessed.

You watched through the mirror as he bristled even further and whipped around to face you. You did so as well, disregarding your lack of shirt in favor of not backing down. He stepped closer to you and stood in place, digging your hands down onto the edge of the counter. Now face to face he studied your face and it felt the moment in the car again, you hoped your expression was telling him the right thing this time. His stern expression broke into one of genuine worry and stress.

“Do you really not- How do you- what,” He took a step back and began to run one hand through his hair. You had never seen him act like this and it was only serving to confuse you even more. He look back at you again and stopped his movement. “ Really?” he asked.

“What?”

“You asked me if we were dating.”

“yeah-“

“you-“

“why is that such a bad thing, huh. Is the idea of dating me just that upsetting to you?”

“Wha- No it’s not. (y/n) that’s just the thing, you asked me if we are dating. We are. And we have been since your birthday. Or at least i’ve been dating you for that long. It seems like for you-“

“Wait what.” You interrupted him. The mention of your birthday made your skin heat up again. You had noticed that things between you had been different since then but figured that was just because of what happened. But you suppose in a way this still is. The thought of what happened between you that night threatened to overwhelm you so you pushed it down for the time being. “So you weren’t laughing cause you thought the idea of us dating was ridiculous, you were laughing cause you thought I was asking the obvious?” You realized out loud.

“Yes, obviously.” He stepped closer to you again.

“So we are dating.” You said and couldn’t help the smile that you felt spreading over your face.

“Yes. We are dating.” A smile started to form on his face. One of the rare stupid looking ones where his cheeks dimple and his eyes crinkle, that he always reserved just for you.

You sort of lunged forward at him to wrap your arms around his body and tug him closer to you. He wrapped his arms around to tighten the embrace and you were quickly reminded of your lack of shirt and pushed back away from him. He seemed confused until you turned around to fiddle with you shirt in the sink to see if it was wearable. When he saw that he laughed a bit which only increased how flustered you felt.

You could hear his hoodie being unzipped and panicked a bit, being reminded of what happened on your birthday. But when you turned around he simply held it out to you and you took it from him with a soft thank you. The tension and stress in the room were making you think weird thoughts and honestly now that things with Damian had been cleared up you really didn’t feel any reason to stay at the party. You pulled on the hoodie and zipped it up all the way before turning around again to ring out your shirt again and collect in a way that wouldn’t drip everywhere.

You turned back to Damian and he stared at you in his hoodie, seemingly in awe. You giggled at his face and held your hand out toward him, “Wanna get out of here?”

He smirked back at you and laced his fingers with yours. “Gladly.”

The two of you left the bathroom and walked towards the stairs so that you could go down and leave. You sent Cynthia a text so that she would know you left safely with Damian. You heard Damian scoff and looked away from your phone to turn your eyes towards what he was looking at. The door to Connor’s room was slightly open again and through the crack you see a couple making out on his turtle sheets.

“Should we?” You asked.

“Nah. Serves him right for forcing all of us to come to his lame ass parties.” He said as he tugged you away.

“Oh my god, why are you like this.”

“Come on, you love it.” He looked back up at you from his spot down the stairs in front of you.

You ran your thumb over his knuckles and thought to yourself. He wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. Were you perfect for each other? you didn’t know. You hoped so. But in the back of your mind you knew, the best things are never perfect from the start. So you just laughed back at him.

“Maybe I do.”

#damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul

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i-hear-a-sound · 9 months

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Sort of dumb Drakengard and Nier stuff I find really really interesting

this will be long. and dumb. and probably wrong. under the readmore

This is an image of what the Alien’s ship looks like in Automata. And yes, it most definitely looks like a flower. Interesting thing is, aliens coming down in a ship shaped like a flower is something that sounds really familiar to the lore: of how in Drakengard, the Watchers came down with the Flower. (fact check me if that’s wrong though)

This image is faintly in every in-game cutscene in Drakengard. These are implied to be images from the universe’s altered Bible? (Christianity is the main religion in the game, it’s just altered with things like the Goddess the seals etc). Which, means, if you squint…

this image looks like a dragon impaled on a tower. It’s pixelated as fuck but higher quality images do confirm this. If I find one of those I’ll update it. (something something, timeloop is obvious)

These two scenes have been paralleled to death. Yes, the black box scene in Automata does look somewhat moderately kind of if you squint like the scene in which Caim pacts with Angelus, but let’s focus more on the ladder scene because something has always bugged me about it.

Firstly. The souls themselves. Maybe it’s just me… they look like egg cells? Which, no, I’m not going “Caimangelus had sex, good for them” I’m going “If this is the case, what else are referred to as “eggs” in this game?”

In the original version of the game in Japan, the Seeds of Destruction are not referred to as Seeds. They’re called eggs.

another thing. We get to see what happens when a seed is destroyed in ending C. And for a brief second, it looks like this:

Another thing about this scene. Something I also never noticed was that when he pulls out his soul, Caim’s chest does… this?

I’d gif it if i could but atm I cant, but believe me. Angelus just shoots it out from her mouth he just reaches into his chest like it’s liquid. And again, back to the ending C scene:

What does this imply?

…Jack shit lol I just think it’s interesting. Smiley face.

Accord is an incredibly mysterious character in the world of Drakenier. We know nothing of her origins, who created her, why she is at all, and the most we know is:

There is a lot of her. She was created in the “Kingdom of night”. She was created by “something like humans”. She studies singularities. Her goal is to prevent the fall-down. She’s a boob lover.

Something interesting to note is that, the character of Adam kind of somewhat maybe shares a lot of design parallels with Accord. Not even just in terms of the use of white/cream.

Adam has glasses, a black tie, and on one hand has a glove similar to what Accord has. In the anime he gets the same tattoo of the Cult of the Watcher’s Eve had in the game, and Accord is specifically stated to have taken an interest in the branch involving the cult’s creation.

But what’s weird is that Adam… is a machine. And accord isn’t. At least, she’s not supposed to be? Who knows. I have lots so say about Accord but most of it is just theorizing so I’ll leave that for another day.

But I want to talk about the other twin: Eve.

Weirdly enough, Eve and Brother Nier and to an extent, the Shadowlord, share a lot of similarities as well. Sure there’s the white hair, the fact they’re both siblings of someone, etc etc etc, but something I never noticed was how similar their attacks are. Thank the fucking sadfutago church thing for that one lol.

I mean… just the fact that these two not only share the same English VA, but that in the automata DLC for Replicant, the Shadowlord boss music is replaced by Dependent Weakling. (Fact check that for me too, it’s been a while)

Weird parallels all around.

These… doors. Why are they here?

for context, in a Drakengard level you stumble across just this… room with a couple random, red doors. Some of them are open. Some of them are not. I. Don’t. Know. Why. These. Are. Here.

(I mean I do… I very much do, but again. That’s theory.)

Anyways. Doors are actually mentioned in the game, in the final line for ending C. “A pitiful child shall defy the hands of the gods, and a door will close.”

Hmmm?? Thing to note: the “hands of the gods” are dragons. “A pitiful child shall defy the dragons, and a door will close.”

And to end off this post, a fun fact; before becoming the first intoner, Lady Zero had a different name. Rose.

#drakengard #nier #drakenier #nier automata #nier replicant #drakengard 1 #drakengard 3 #caim #accord #angelus #a2 #eve #adam #lady zero #intoner zero #2b #9s #kaine #AND IF I GOT ANY OF THIS WRONG PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I DONT WANNA BE DUMB AND ILL FIX IT IF I WAS :3

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class-1b-bull · 9 months

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Can we share some nonsense about class B since they don't get the spot light enough?

Wrote most of this during my break at the cunt factory so it may be a little rushed /hj

Not proofread we die like men

Awase - one of his favorite things to go is weld one of his friends shoes to the ground before taking their phone or walet so they have to chase him barefoot.

Sen - during training once he missed a punch and drilled himself into the concrete and they had to get 3+ people to get him out

Kamakiri - once when Kamakiri was training with Tetsutetsu he trew him through a wall only for it to lead to the girls bathroom... they had to clean the entire dorms for like 3 weeks lol

Kuroiro - he tried to compliment his crush one time but the way he phrased it sounded like an insult and he was too scared to correct them when they pointed it out. Rip.

Kendo - there has been multiple times where one of her classmates has called her mom accidentally.

Kodai - she accidentally scared the shit out of Kamakiri once when she tried to ask him a question (he didnt see her walk up to him lmao)

Komori - she has forced awase to help her sew clothes before. He welds the fabric in place so it sticks before she secures it. The only reason awase agrees to do this is because she has a video of him falling down some stairs lmao

Shiozaki - her vine hair has thorns in it so its pretty common for her hair to latch onto one of her classmates clothes. (The class had to spend over an hour untangling her vines from Shishidas fur once)

Shishida - Shishida has a designed spot in the living area because he sheds so much. That chair is covered in fur 24/7 and its vacuumed twice a day

Shoda - he climbed onto the kitchen counter to reach something that was particularly high up once but he ended up falling lmao. He layed on the kitchen floor for like 15 minutes out of embarrassment even though no one was around

Pony - she still cant read Japanese all that well so theres been multiple times where she walked into the guys locker room/ bathroom

Tsubaraba - he tried to impress a girl by using his solid air to ask for her number but he ended up having a panic attack in front of her lmao

Tetsutetsu - he unironically says hes getting hard as a way to say hes gonna use his quirk. He hasent figured out why everyone gives him weird looks when he says that yet.

Tokage - once rin caught her eating an entire tub of icecream by herself on the kitchen floor at like 3am. Poor dude just wanted a glass of water.

Manga - one time he drew and cut out a life-sized version of himself and put his uniform on the cut out to see if vlad king would notice. He didnt.

Honenuki - one time honenuki apologized to a wall after walking into it. Only to then (immediately after) apologize to the same wall for thinking it was a person.

Bondo - he helps manga with arts and crafts all the time. And he was one of the main people that helped manga with his cutout mission (read mangas for context)

Monoma - the one time he said something nice about class A someone somehow got a video of it and showed it to their entire class. Class B treated monoma with that video for almost a full month lmao

Reiko - reiko and kuroiro work together to scare the shit out of there class every now and then but they stopped after it caused Kamakiri to punch an innocent manga in the face

Rin - not really some random nonsense he has done but I like to think if you press the right pressure points he activates his quirk involuntarily. Kinda like when a doctor hits that one spot in your knee and your leg kicks up.

I have no clue why but I really struggled writing for some of the students on this one rip... my mind was empty lmao

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kallie-den · 8 months

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A Commanding Weakness Ch. 2

The ship's doctor investigates what's been going on with Captain Vasser - but when her about the captain start coming to life, will she be able to resist Wasp's trap?

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There was something weird going on with Captain Vasser.

That was the starting point Doctor Yuzuko Hiraga kept coming back to, as she anxiously reviewed her notes whilst waiting for the captain to come and visit her in the Inyx’s medbay. It wasn’t a lot to go on, frustratingly, but it was a conviction that had been growing within her ever since she’d caught sight of Captain Vasser leaving the holodeck a week before. She’d tried to dismiss the feeling a hundred times, but she just couldn’t. Deep down, she knew it.

There was something weird going on with Captain Vasser.

She had seemed so unlike herself when Dr. Hiraga had seen her that day, overstaying on her holo-rec time. For one, the captain she knew would never, ever lose track of time. She was far too strict, especially with herself. And for another, Captain Vasser wouldn’t be caught dead looking so messy and disheveled. Even that could have been dismissed as a rare, momentary lapse, but what truly bothered Dr. Hiraga was how she had seemed so oblivious to it. It was as if she'd been in some kind of strange daze.

It wasn’t normal and it wasn’t right. As the ship’s doctor, Dr. Hiraga needed to get to the bottom of it - but discreetly. The last thing she wanted was to publicly undermine Captain Vasser.

And so, she had privately asked Captain Vasser to attend a medical appointment in the hopes that she could get a feel for what was wrong.

Dr. Hiraga adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses one more time, and then tried to sit still behind her desk and look like she had been in the middle of something unimportant.

With a muted, familiar hiss, the medbay’s doors slid open, and through them walked Captain Yvonne Vasser, looking as formidable as ever in her neat, perfectly-tailored uniform.

“Doctor,” the captain said, favoring Dr. Hiraga with a small smile. “Let’s make this quick, shall we?”

“Of course, captain.”

Dr. Hiraga beckoned for Captain Vasser to take a seat. Seeing her like this, it was all but impossible to imagine her as anything other than an invulnerable pillar of dignity and professionalism. Her hair was, as usual, in a stern ponytail, and her gaze betrayed no hint of the nerves and anxiety Dr. Hiraga was used to seeing in her patients.

It was almost enough to make her doubt herself. Nothing was ever wrong with Captain Vasser, right? Simply being in her presence was a comfort. Dr. Hiraga knew that some of the Inyx’s crew were afraid of her. They thought of her as a haughty, terrifyingly-perfect, disciplinarian robot of a captain. But to Dr. Hiraga, Captain Vasser was simply perfect.

“So,” Captain Vasser began, “what’s this all about?”

Dr. Hiraga adjusted her glasses nervously. “I’ve decided to set up some appointments with the senior crew. We all know it’s been a long tour out here on the rim, chasing after Wasp. There’s a lot of pressure on officers like Lieutenant Kuznetzov and Chief Carter to not let standards slip. I thought it might be helpful to discuss mental health and wellness in a professional context.”

“That’s very diligent, doctor,” Captain Vasser commented approvingly.

“T-thank you.” Dr. Hiraga’s heart skipped a beat, and she silently prayed that she wasn’t blushing. “So, um, I thought: where better to start than the captain?”

“How thoughtful.” Captain Vasser laughed politely. “But I’m afraid I don’t think we’ll have much to talk about.”

When Captain Vasser laughed like that, her whole face lit up. Her eyes sparkled. To Dr. Hiraga, it was a rare, precious moment, like catching a sunset. Captain Vasser never let her guard down around her subordinates, but with a doctor, in a private setting, it was a little different. It made Dr. Hiraga feel blessed, and she had to pause to bask in the moment.

The feeling it gave her, though, was also an uncomfortable reminder of why she felt so conflicted about what she was doing.

Dr. Hiraga had a massive crush on Captain Vasser.

It was embarrassing. Mortifying. Completely and totally unprofessional. What kind of doctor developed feelings for someone under her care? Worse, the captain of her ship! There were a hundred reasons nothing would ever come of it even if Captain Vasser returned her affections - which would have been nothing short of a miracle, Dr. Hiraga was sure. She was just a boring doctor. How would she ever catch the eye of a woman like Captain Vasser?

Her feelings made navigating situations like these difficult, to say the least. It was difficult to act like a professional when simply being in Captain Vasser’s presence reduced the doctor to a blushing schoolgirl. She was thirty-four, for goodness’ sake! She needed to pull herself together.

And, more pointedly, it made her seriously worried about her professional judgment when she was considering prying into Captain Vasser’s personal affairs.

“Doctor?” Captain Vasser ventured.

Dr. Hiraga started nervously when she realized she’d been zoning out. She tried to cover her blush by adjusting her glasses. “Yes! Um… well, that is, I wanted to ask… have you been feeling alright recently?”

Captain Vasser smiled politely at her. “Yes, of course.”

“Nothing on your mind?” Dr. Hiraga prompted hopefully. “Nothing’s bothering you? Nothing you’d care to get off your chest?”

Captain Vasser shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine, doctor.”

Dr. Hiraga paused for a moment to judge her next move. It was very tempting to just let the whole thing go, but she knew her curiosity would keep eating at her.

“Captain, please don’t take this the wrong way,” she began hesitantly, “but I happened to notice that you’ve been spending an awful lot of time in the holodeck recently. That’s your right, of course. It’s your ship. But… it’s unusual for you. And sometimes, when I see crew members doing this, it can be an indication of serious stress. Of trying to get away from reality.”

Dr. Hiraga couldn’t bear to continue. She just hoped the captain wasn’t too angry at her. Mercifully, though, Captain Vasser just cocked an eyebrow, amused.

“Been checking the holodeck logs, have we, doctor?” she asked.

Dr. Hiraga blushed. “W-well, in this instance, it’s simply part of my job. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s quite alright.” Captain Vasser held up a hand. “There’s no harm in seeing who’s using the holodeck. It’s not as though you can see what they’re doing with it. And I understand your intentions. Doctor, any ship would be lucky to have a medical officer with your level of care and attention.”

Dr. Hiraga’s blush deepened, although her joy at being complimented by the captain was undercut by her guilt at how dishonest she was being.

“In my case, though, it’s nothing to worry about,” Captain Vasser continued. “I’ve just been sinking my teeth into a little project lately. I thought it would be wise to pick up a hobby, especially since it’s been so long since our last encounter with the hacker we’re chasing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“O-oh, right,” Doctor Hiraga replied. “Y-yes, of course. Very, um, healthy.”

She felt like a fool. A new hobby? That made perfect sense. It was obvious, really. She’d probably been worrying about nothing.

“So, will there be anything else?” Captain Vasser asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” Dr. Hiraga tried to put on a brave face and maintain her professional demeanor, smiling as the two of them stood. “I just wanted to check in, that’s all. Although please remember: my door is always open, captain.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Captain Vasser replied warmly, before leaving medbay to return to her duties.

Dr. Hiraga sighed as she sank back down into her chair. What was she going to do now?

Hours later, at the end of her duty shift, Captain Vasser was still playing on Dr. Hiraga’s mind. At first, her explanation seemed to clear everything up, but now the doctor wasn’t so sure. A new hobby didn’t explain why she’d looked so disheveled and acted so strangely that day she’d seen the captain leaving the holodeck. It was such a small thing, but Dr. Hiraga couldn’t quite let it go. Her gut was telling her something. There had to be an explanation. A reason. There had to be.

It was still tormenting her when, just as she was leaving medbay, the communicator she wore on her chest started to beep.

She tapped the badge at once, fully alert. “This is the doctor. Is there a medical emergency?”

“No, doctor, don’t worry.” The sound of the captain’s voice sent a chill down Dr. Hiraga’s spine. “I know you’ve just come off duty, and I was actually hoping you might be able to do me a small favor. In a… personal capacity.”

Dr. Hiraga’s heart skipped a beat. “O-of course!”

“Wonderful,” Captain Vasser said over the communicator. “Then, could you please come to the holodeck? I’d like to show you what I’ve been working on.”

“Oh! Um. Yes, absolutely.” Another heartbeat skipped. “I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you.” The captain closed the channel.

Dr. Hiraga couldn’t believe what had just happened. A personal invitation? From the captain? It was like a dream come true. And from the sounds of it, all her questions were about to be answered.

But that wasn’t truly what was getting her secret hopes up. Rather, it was the way Captain Vasser’s voice had been filled with a kind of breathy, intimate urgency Dr. Hiraga had never heard before.

It had sounded, in a word, like flirting.

Dr. Hiraga couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. But it did put a little frisk in her step as she headed over to the nearest turbolift as quickly as she could.

As the turbolift carried her through the Inyx and toward the holodeck, Dr. Hiraga took a moment to inspect her reflection in one of the metal walls. She wanted to look good for the captain, even if it was nothing more than a friendly invitation. Unfortunately, the long duty shift had taken its toll. Dr. Hiraga was tired, and looked it. Her point of pride was her long, silky hair, which she always wore up in a fetching crown braid, but by now more than a few hairs were coming loose, and there was no time to do anything more than try to tuck them away out of sight. People said her big eyes, the color of chocolate, were pretty, but they said that about everyone. Dr. Hiraga wished she had time to run back to her quarters and put on a little makeup, but it wouldn’t do to keep the captain waiting.

The sound of the turbolift door opening made the doctor jump, and she blushed even though nobody was there. That was a relief. It wouldn’t do for the crew to see her preening like that. Dr. Hiraga hurried out of the lift and walked over to the holodeck.

She presented herself to the door, but it appeared to be locked. After taking one last moment to adjust her glasses and muster her courage, she tapped her badge. “Captain? I’m here.”

There was no reply, but the door slid open.

As Dr. Hiraga walked into the holodeck and crossed the threshold of the holographic projection playing within, she heard the door close and lock behind her. That was unusual, but Dr. Hiraga was immediately and completely distracted by the situation she found herself in.

It was a perfect recreation of the captain’s quarters.

It had to be. It was clearly still the Inyx, and on a ship like that only the captain would have quarters as spacious as these. There was something disorienting about walking into a holodeck and finding yourself in just another part of the starship, but even more surprising than that was the mood.

The lights were dim and warm. There was some low, swinging music playing from hidden speakers. The bed was prominent, and its freshly-made sheets were scattered with rose petals.

There was no mistaking it. This was romantic.

Dr. Hiraga immediately started panicking.

“Welcome, doctor,” said Captain Vasser. “Thank you for coming.”

She was emerging from the bathroom, and the way she looked made Dr. Hiraga’s jaw drop. Captain Vasser’s hair was down, which Dr. Hiraga had never seen before. It made her look shockingly casual. She was out of her uniform too, which was another first. Even better, she was wearing a very long gown wrapped tight around her body, all the way up to her neck. Dr. Hiraga couldn’t tell if she was wearing anything underneath, and the garment looked tantalizingly easy to unravel.

Dr. Hiraga’s cheeks started to burn. This was a fantasy come to life, but it made her feel as anxious as it did elated. This was exactly a fantasy come to life. A specific fantasy, one that Dr. Hiraga had played out in her mind’s eye again and again. But that was impossible.

“C-captain,” Dr. Hiraga replied awkwardly, struggling to keep calm. “Um…what can I do for you? Is it something medical?”

She couldn’t assume anything, no matter how obvious it seemed. The last thing the doctor wanted was to make a fool of herself.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Captain Vasser replied playfully. “Can’t you guess?”

Dr. Hiraga’s cheeks were burning. “I-I’m afraid not.”

Captain Vasser laughed. “Let’s not beat around the bush. You and I - we have a connection, don’t we?”

The doctor’s eyes went wide. She knew that line. She knew it because she’d programmed it herself. Months ago, in a moment of absolute shame and unbearable yearning, she’d started working on a holodeck scenario that would have allowed her to play out some of her fantasies with the captain. She’d never gone through with it, of course. It had felt far too disrespectful to Captain Vasser. But she’d never quite gotten around to deleting the half-completed files either.

But this Captain Vasser wasn’t a hologram. The scenario wasn’t functional. It had never been finished. This was real.

Dr. Hiraga struggled to find the words to respond as she fought to wrap her mind around that. “W-well, um, yes, I mean, I’ve always felt we work well together, speaking as two professionals, and-“

“Oh, doctor.” Captain Vasser cut her off with a low chuckle. “I’m not talking about anything professional, I can assure you.”

Another line from her holodeck scenario. That had to mean something, but Dr. Hiraga was too flustered to figure out what.

“Then…” she ventured nervously, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

Captain Vasser took a few slow, swaying steps toward her. “You know, doctor, I’ve always admired you.”

“I’ve always admired you too,” Dr. Hiraga replied hopelessly. “I mean you’re so… just… wow.”

“Thank you,” Captain Vasser purred. Hearing her purr like that was unbelievable. “And so are you. In fact, I just can’t hold myself back any longer.”

That was another line from her holodeck scenario, but Dr. Hiraga was so caught up in the fantasy, she barely noticed. “You can’t?”

Captain Vasser nodded, and moved closer. “You’re lovely, doctor.”

Dr. Hiraga couldn’t keep the dumb grin from her face. “I… oh my goodness, just hearing you say that is….”

Captain Vasser stepped closer still - close enough that she could reach up and stroke her fingertips along the doctor’s burning cheek. The warmth of her touch was further confirmation. This was real, even if it was still a virtual mirror of what Dr. Hiraga had half-programmed into the holodeck.

“Do you feel the same way about me?” the captain asked.

“Yes!” Dr. Hiraga blurted out. “God yes. You’re… captain, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. And… I can’t believe how beautiful you look.”

“Thank you.” Captain Vasser grinned. She took hold of Dr. Hiraga’s arm and started to guide her, gently but commandingly, over to her bed. “Then, what are we waiting for?”

Dr. Hiraga let out a nervous giggle. Her head was spinning. “W-wait! Um… not that I don’t want to, but… isn’t this… a little fast?”

That was half of what she was thinking. The other half was all about her fantasies. The ones she had tentatively added into her holodeck scenario before chickening out. The secret, shameful fetishistic ones she’d never shared with anyone else. Dr. Hiraga couldn’t help but glance down at Captain Vasser’s body, hidden under her long gown. Was she wearing anything underneath? It was impossible to tell.

“Are you really going to tell me you don’t want this?” Captain Vasser replied, an undiminishable smile on her face. Despite her protest, Dr. Hiraga couldn’t help moving with her toward the bed.

“I do!” Dr. Hiraga insisted. “I do, I promise. M-more than anything. But… aren’t there rules about this? Fraternization, chain of command, acceptable power dynamics…”

“I’m the captain,” Captain Vasser said firmly. “The Inyx is my ship. I make the rules. I’ll take care of it all. Whatever it takes.”

Hearing that was like a drug. Whatever her reservations, Dr. Hiraga couldn’t help but lose herself to the moment. She didn’t resist as Captain Vasser guided her to sit down on the edge of her bed.

The captain remained standing directly in front of her. It was a flustering reminder of their considerable height difference. Up close, Captain Vasser’s body was even more stunning. She had aged gracefully into her thirties, and it was obvious that she kept herself in ferociously good shape.

Again, Dr. Hiraga’s thoughts drifted to sinful places. Was the captain naked beneath her gown? That would have been a dream, and yet the doctor couldn’t help but wish for something else instead.

“Doctor,” Captain Vasser said. Her voice commanded the doctor’s attention effortlessly, but it was different from the voice she used when she was giving orders from the bridge. It was secret. Intimate. “Do you want me?”

Dr. Hiraga knew that if she said ‘yes’, there would be no turning back. She wanted that more than anything in the world. And yet the old adage rang in her ears: if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. The captain wasn’t acting normally. Perhaps she hadn’t been for weeks. If something was truly wrong with her, as Dr. Hiraga had been suspecting, it wouldn’t be right to take advantage.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she replied regretfully. “I promise, with all my heart, that I do. But… I want to do this properly. Let’s take it a little slower, OK?”

She braced herself for the worst. For anger. For rejection. What Dr. Hiraga wasn’t ready for, though, was for Captain Vasser to simply reach down, untie the belt of her gown, and shrug it off from her shoulders.

Dr. Hiraga gasped when she saw what the captain had on underneath.

From her neck all the way down to her ankles and her wrists, Captain Vasser was wearing a black bodysuit. It was perfectly skintight; it hugged her mature curves close and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. There was no mistaking its eroticism. Seeing anyone like that would have made Dr. Hiraga stare; seeing the captain, of all people, like that had her completely dumbstruck.

But it wasn’t the form of the bodysuit that truly made the doctor’s mouth water, and drove every last thought out of her head. It was the material. The bodysuit was made of black, shiny rubber, polished to such a mirror sheen that it reflected each one of the holodeck’s dim lights in bright shapes that contoured perfectly to the curves of Captain Vasser’s body. Dr. Hiraga had seen bodysuits like this before - in fantasy and pornography, if not reality - and she recognized it immediately.

It was latex.

Dr. Hiraga’s love of latex was her deepest secret. Her greatest fetish. She’d never told anyone about it. Exploring kinks was difficult for someone in her profession - a starship doctor, working for the Alliance - and she had always struggled to imagine how to articulate her feelings. Compared to the kinds of fantasies that other people had, fetishizing a simple clothing material seemed strange. Abstract, almost.

But that didn’t stop her craving for it from being all-consuming.

“Do you like it, doctor?” Captain Vasser asked, a strange smile on her face. “I can see that you do.”

Dr. Hiraga nodded dumbly. She could scarcely believe this. Did the captain, her crush, of all people, secretly share her kink? That was too much. It was impossible. And yet…

Captain Vasser leaned closer. “Would you like to touch it?” she whispered.

Dr. Hiraga’s nodding turned furious. She needed to, desperately.

Captain Vasser stretched out her arm, offering it to the breathless doctor.

Hand trembling, Dr. Hiraga reached out and touched the captain’s latex-coated forearm. Immediately, she gasped. That first little touch was like a baptism. The rubber was impossibly, alluringly smooth, and the way it flexed, just slightly, under pressure, wrapping the light around her fingertip in a golden halo, was mesmerizing. Dr. Hiraga was in awe. It was even better than she’d always dreamed.

But the best part of all was that it was real. You couldn’t do this with hardlight holograms. They couldn’t quite get the texture just right. Dr. Hiraga knew. She’d tried, when she’d attempted to program something just like this into her secret, shameful little holodeck fantasy involving the captain.

And now, all of that was coming true.

“Oh my god,” Dr. Hiraga breathed. “I can’t believe… it’s so…”

“Why stop there?” Captain Vasser’s voice was breathy and low, her commanding tones made into a cougar’s purr. “I’m all yours.”

She stepped even closer, so close she was practically straddling Dr. Hiraga’s lap. The captain reached down and took hold of the stunned doctor’s wrists and guided them onto her body - one to her chest, perilously close to her breasts, the other around to cup her ass.

Dr. Hiraga didn’t resist. She didn’t protest. She was beyond that. She wasn’t thinking about medical propriety, or professionalism, or Alliance military regulations about fraternization. She was just thinking about her captain’s body, and how it looked wrapped in this amazing, shiny rubber. Every touch was freshly intoxicating, and left her needing more.

Her fingers moved. She found herself touching, reaching, groping. She couldn’t help it. The way the latex felt as it moved beneath her fingertips was ecstasy. Dr. Hiraga wanted nothing more than to keep going. To keep touching. To keep admiring Captain Vasser like this. To lose herself in the moment forever.

Worries about what was real and how this was possible were the furthest things from her mind. If this was a dream, she decided, she simply wanted to go on dreaming forever.

“Mmmff,” Captain Vasser purred, as Dr. Hiraga explored her latex-clad body. “This feels amazing, doctor. You have no idea. I’m so glad I can share this with you.”

“M-me… t-too…” Dr. Hiraga whimpered. Her whole body was on fire. She couldn’t control herself. She was overwhelmed.

Captain Vasser stood over her, legs slightly apart, back arched as she presented herself obscenely for Dr. Hiraga's attention. The doctor couldn’t look away. In the low, intimate light, even the slightest move Captain Vasser made as she breathed or adjusted her position made shimmers race across the surface of her bodysuit. It was the most beautiful thing Dr. Hiraga had ever seen. The woman she admired most, in the fetish gear that drove her crazy. She couldn’t imagine a better model for her adored latex.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Captain Vasser murmured, as if to herself. “Sometimes I feel like I could stare at it for hours.”

Dr. Hiraga nodded in agreement, spellbound.

“It does something wonderful to me,” Captain Vasser confessed, in a low, soothing voice. “It’s like my mind goes blank. Like I can’t think. Like I don’t want to think.”

“Yeah…” Dr. Hiraga breathed. It was exactly like that.

"It’s such a relief, for women like us,” Captain Vasser mused. “We lead such stressful lives, don’t we? We’re both responsible for so many people, here on the Inyx. There are no days off for us. Not really. And that makes anything that can help us to switch off our minds even more blissful.”

Dr. Hiraga nodded. She’d never quite thought about it like that, but now that her captain was saying it, it made perfect sense. This was blissful.

“Just look at it, in the light,” Captain Vasser went on. “Look at the latex. Look at how it reflects the light when I move.” She flexed her arm, demonstrating. “Every time, it’s like a new pattern. A new work of art. Couldn’t you just lose yourself to it?”

“Mhm,” Dr. Hiraga murmured. Speaking seemed like it would take too much effort. The doctor was completely, singularly focused on the latex Captain Vasser was wearing.

“And the sensation,” Captain Vasser went on, “that’s even better, isn’t it? Even more blissful. Even more relaxing. Keep touching, doctor. I want you to touch me.”

Dr. Hiraga was obeying her without even thinking about it. She fell into a rhythm, moving her hands back and forth, up and down, along Captain Vasser’s body.

“Yes, just like that,” Captain Vasser said approvingly. Her approval felt like a warm glow. “Focus, doctor. Focus on how it feels under your fingertips. So smooth. So sleek. Isn’t there something incredibly relaxing about just touching it?”

“Y… yeah…” Dr. Hiraga sighed. There really was. Losing herself to the sensation was effortless.

“That’s right.” Captain Vasser nodded. “No need to think. No need to speak. Only touch. Only feel. Only relax.”

Now that she was so completely focused, every part of Dr. Hiraga’s body was starting to feel heavy and limp. It didn’t bother her. It barely registered. She was totally relaxed.

“Let your breathing get nice and slow for me,” Captain Vasser urged. Her voice was so soothing and so authoritative. Listening to her was effortless. “It’ll help you to relax. You want that, don’t you, doctor? To relax?”

Dr. Hiraga just nodded slowly.

“Then listen to me,” Captain Vasser told her. “I’ll guide you. Breathing slowly. Sinking. Relaxing. Allowing my latex to lull you into a nice, deep, relaxed state. You’re already so close. I promise you, it’s going to feel wondrous.”

Dr. Hiraga felt a little like she was falling asleep. Her vision was starting to blur and telescope, and everything was starting to fade. Everything except for her captain’s words. Those were as vivid as ever, and she couldn’t help but obey.

“I think you’re ready, doctor,” Captain Vasser whispered. “I’m sure you know what a trance is. On my count of three, you’re going to slip into a trance for me. Are you ready?”

Dr. Hiraga nodded again. She wasn’t thinking.

“Three,” Captain Vasser counted. “Two. One. And… zero. Sink for me, doctor.”

As soon as she counted ‘zero’, the doctor went slack. She felt like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. She felt nothing.

Captain Vasser fell silent as she watched the hypnotized doctor. Then, a few moments later, across the holographic room, the air started to ripple. After a moment more, the ripple resolved itself into a figure: a hardlight hologram of a short woman in punk clothing, with dyed, vivid green, side-shaven hair and an unbelievably smug, shit-eating grin.

It was Wasp. The vandal-hacker the Inyx was supposed to be in pursuit of.

“Wow,” she remarked. “That was fucking hot.”

At her appearance, Captain Vasser started swaying not so differently from how the hypnotized Dr. Hiraga was swaying. Wasp noticed that at once.

“Hey, captain,” she said, grin impossibly wide. “At attention, babe.”

Captain Vasser immediately snapped to attention, her spine perfectly stiff and upright. All the emotion drained from her face, and she turned towards Wasp and offered the hacker a crisp, military salute.

Wasp laughed. “Fuck. I never get tired of making her do that.”

Something flickered in Dr. Hiraga’s eyes as she watched Wasp defile her beloved captain’s dignity. Deep down she was struggling to rouse herself, but she had fallen so very far.

Wasp seemed to notice Dr. Hiraga’s faint comprehension. She waltzed over to the doctor and struck a theatrical pose.

“Surprised?” she asked. “I’m sure you know who I am. Let me give you the cliff notes: I’ve been in your ship’s systems for a while, and in your captain’s head for just as long. I exploited all her naughty little fantasies about hypnosis and domination - exactly like she just did to you.”

Dr. Hiraga whimpered and twitched. She still couldn’t think or rouse her heavy limbs.

“She’s a lot more shameless about them than you,” Wasp commented. “Made whole libraries of her wet dreams right here on the holodeck. You couldn’t bring yourself to finish one single scenario. Good taste, though! Latex? That’s fun. And the captain? She really is a dish, isn’t she? When she told me you were onto us, I just had to go for it.”

Wasp licked her lips as she glanced thoughtfully between her victims.

“I hope getting to have a little fun with her was as good as you’d imagined,” she added. “And, who knows? Maybe I’ll let you two have some more fun together. I’m sure Vasser here will be nice and eager.”

At that, Dr. Hiraga stirred. Something about Wasp’s words offended her. Captain Vasser would never be eager. Not her. This was all Wasp, forcing her. Captain Vasser had always looked after her crew fiercely.

“Nnhgg…” she managed, her tongue drooling out of her mouth. “Nnnottt…”

“Awwww, wow!” Wasp simply giggled at her predicament. “So loyal! You really are down bad for her. I’d hoped so. Those old, buried, half-finished holodeck files of yours made it clear that you have such a high opinion of your captain.” She bent at the hips, putting her face menacingly close to the doctor’s. “But I’ve got bad news for you, doc: she really was very, very eager.”

Wasp waltzed around behind Captain Vasser, still frozen like a statue in her saluting pose. Under the guidance of Wasp’s hands, though, she spread her legs and did nothing to resist as Wasp carefully unzipped the front of her latex bodysuit between her thighs. And when Wasp’s hand plunged underneath the rubber and started molesting her, the captain shuddered with unmistakable pleasure.

Dr. Hiraga went completely still. The sight of the criminal they were hunting groping the captain she adored was ghoulish. But, despite herself, she was still mercilessly aroused. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop admiring the latex.

Wasp gave herself a few long moments to enjoy the experience, before pulling away and holding up her hand for Dr. Hiraga to inspect.

Her fingertips were dripping wet. Captain Vasser was unbelievably turned on from what she’d just done to her ship’s doctor.

Dr. Hiraga let out a low, pitiful moan.

“I guess I’m the only one around here who knows what Captain Vasser is really like,” Wasp giggled. “See, she’s not just a girl with a wild side. She’s a real freak. It goes all the way to her bones. For her, the more twisted the better. I should know; I’ve perused all her favorites. And let me tell you: being hypnotized and forced to betray someone who trusts her? That does it for our girl like nothing else.”

Dr. Hiraga wanted to deny it, but even if she’d been able to muster the words, they would have sounded hollow. Captain Vasser’s wetness spoke for itself. So did the telltale blush of arousal in her cheeks.

The doctor was sure that, on some level, Captain Vasser hated what was happening. But on another, she clearly loved it.

“You’re almost as much of a freak, though,” Wasp monologued to the helpless doctor. “Just a little more repressed. But like I said, good taste. Once I had her synthesize her new latex, I couldn’t get over it. Fuck, who knew the straight-laced cap would look so good?”

She started groping Captain Vasser all over, her hands gripping and tugging and squeezing as she roamed over the captain’s body. The way Wasp groped her was nothing like Dr. Hiraga’s slow, careful, reverent touch. Glee glinted in the hacker’s eyes as she mauled Captain Vasser's tits and slapped her ass, all while the hypnotized captain responded with nothing more than a blush and a faint whimper. The level of control Wasp wielded over her was terrifying, and it was clear she absolutely loved getting to show it off for an audience.

“Don’t worry,” Wasp jeered, catching the faint look in Dr. Hiraga’s blank eyes. “She’s enjoying herself! Aren’t you, babe?”

Captain Vasser didn’t reply.

“Aw, c’mon.” Wasp feigned a pout and giggled. “Trust me, I can tell she’s practically creaming herself. Hey, captain! Show the doc how much fun you’re having. Smile for us. Nice and bright. That’s an order.”

Dr. Hiraga failed to suppress a rush of arousal as she watched Captain Vasser’s entire face light up in a broad, bright grin. The expression was so obviously artificial as to be ghoulish, and the way it didn’t reach her blank, entranced eyes made the captain look almost goofy. But nonetheless, especially with the way she was blushing, it gave her the look of someone caught in a moment of eager, stupid, mind-breaking pleasure.

Given what she was wearing, Dr. Hiraga couldn’t help but find the spectacle incredibly, unbearably hot.

“Perfect!” Wasp drawled. She slipped her hand back into the unzipped portion of Captain Vasser’s bodysuit and pushed two of her hardlight fingertips into the captain’s cunt. “Hey, let’s finish the look. Cap, throw up a double peace sign. I know you know what that is. That’s an order.”

Captain Vasser shuddered and moaned faintly as Wasp thrust inside her, but she nonetheless obeyed, lifting both of her hands up and forming a V-shape with her fingertips. Then, when Wasp added another finger, she gasped and her tongue lolled out of her mouth.

In that pose, with that expression on her face, wearing skin-tight latex, she no longer looked anything like the proud, dignified starship captain Dr. Hiraga had always known. Captain Vasser looked defiled. She looked pornographic. She looked like a twisted wet dream come to life.

And it was Dr. Hiraga’s wet dream.

She didn’t want to be, but she was unbelievably horny. She couldn’t tell if her latex fetish was just that strong, or if the hypnosis was simply clouding her mind beyond all sense - or, worse, if some part of her actually liked seeing Captain Vasser this way. Whatever the reason, all she could do was hope Wasp didn’t bother to check how wet she was under her uniform.

Wasp was clearly feeling none of the dread or guilt that haunted Dr. Hiraga. Her eyes were alight with a manic thrill as she played with the two older, military women like they were nothing more than dolls. Her wicked grin just kept widening and widening, and her whole body throbbed with enraptured arousal. There was no hint of remorse or restraint. As Dr. Hiraga fought, still, to rouse herself, a horrifying realization started to dawn on her.

Wasp was here, in the Inyx’s systems. She had control over Captain Vasser - and now her, the ship’s doctor. The kind of damage a person like her could do from this position was unthinkable.

“W-what…” Dr. Hiraga murmured. “What… are y-you going… to do… t-to us?”

Wasp looked at her and giggled - and then shrugged, which was somehow the worst part. “Doc, I have absolutely no idea! I’m not really a grand planner. More of an improvisational type. But now that you mention it…”

She reached out and stroked a fingertip along Dr. Hiraga’s cheek. The doctor shivered, but she was still too deeply hypnotized to pull away.

“Just imagining all the things I can do with the Inyx’s trusted doctor under my control,” Wasp whispered, “gets me so - fucking - hot.”

Dr. Hiraga shivered.

“I w-won’t…” she tried to protest. “You c-can’t… ma-“

“Oh, shhh.” Wasp pressed a finger to the doctor’s lips. That was all it took to topple her crumbling willpower. “Don’t worry, babe. You won’t have a choice. Captain Vasser? At ease. Let’s finish this.”

She stepped back. A little life and feeling returned to Captain Vasser’s face and she dropped her hands, but she didn’t quite stop grinning, and she seemed completely oblivious to the way she was dripping her own wetness down her thighs.

“Nice and relaxed, doctor,” Captain Vasser murmured in that soothing voice of hers, as if nothing had happened. Dr. Hiraga couldn’t tell if she even knew Wasp was there. “Keep looking at me. At my latex. Look at the way the light shimmers. Breathe nice and deep.”

Dr. Hiraga couldn’t help but listen, and within moments she was once again completely mesmerized. There was nothing she could do but let her eyes lose focus from staring at the gorgeous rubber, as her conscious mind and free will finally slipped into the darkness.

—

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#story #CommandingWeakness

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purrbangtann · 2 years

Text

All mine.

Fallen angel!Yandere!Jungkook x Angel oc

Warnings: mentions of blood, Dark yandere themes, non-con touching (not sexual), crying, Jungkook is a total psycho, mention of cut off body part (angel wings), this is hella short and written at 1AM by a mentally unstable writer y’all.

Not edited

Disclaimer; this is purely fiction, I do not believe that any of the Bts members engage in such activities, and Please don’t romanticize this type of behavior, it is toxic💁‍♀️.

Context: Fallen angel Jungkook falls in love with Aurora, a bpoc with ethereal looks that radiate all over.

He didn’t think he was obsessed with her, he just had this overwhelming feeling that he had to protect her from the ugly world they were in.

I mean..maybe his feelings just processed in a different way. Yeah that must be it..I mean he layed awake thinking about Aurora and her beautiful hair, he keeps reimagining different hairstyles for her.

She’d sometimes have braids, twists, faux locs and so on. (He even learned all the terms just to impress her). But the one he loved most..oh it just had to be when she dyed her hair a sweet cinnamon color. The warm autumn color really captured her essence and Jungkook’s breath.

He simply loved seeing her from afar, at the park, at the school, in her garden or at nighttime when she’d forget to close her curtains…unconsciously granting Jungkook more access to her than he should have.

Sometimes Aurora would walk with her wings out, it was the only thing she wasn’t insecure about.

Jungkook loved and hated them at the same time, He always had a bitter feeling stirring up his gut when he saw them. He’d be reminded of his rank in comparison to Aurora’s, how could a mere fallen angel, disgrace of society, ever be able to attain such a beauty? She was untouchable after all. They were too different from each other.

For a moment our fallen angel recognized his weird behavior, but did he go against it? No. Not since he saw that asshole Eunwoo hold her hand.

She betrayed him, so he warmly took his unhealthy obsession and let it devour him.

I just want her to be mine.

Safe.

Even if it meant he had to go to extreme lengths to do so.

He’d threaten her potential partners and even kidnapped some.

Mind you, Aurora doesn’t even know him💀

————

Lets gerrit😝

“Aurora, my beautiful Aurora.” He said as he caressed the trembling girl’s cinnamon dyed hair.

His soft voice sent chills to her fractured spine.

His shiny doe eyes looked into Aurora’s terrified ones, she flinched as he let out a small sigh, “You see what happens when you don’t listen?”

She fell to her knees and screeched, the excruciating pain that piqued her upper back over and over continuously, seemed to suck out all her energy and force it back into her body.

Aurora whimpered quietly as her eyes couldn’t push out any more tears.

The high pitched noise that came out of her mouth made the room shake, not physically but her angelic aura was all over the place, suffocating the atmosphere and cracking the old glass cabinet in the corner of her room.

Jungkook sighed as he saw his foolish darling be an ingrate to his protectiveness, he glanced at the large gold plated dagger that layed beside her. “It’ll be okay.” He consoled.

She coughed, and started crawling towards the beautiful pair of pearl wings that once were attached to her back.

“My…” she whispered.

She softly mewled and let go.

She had let go of the life she once had,

The one that was undeservingly stripped away from her.

She gripped the bloodstained lilac carpet that contrasted her colored skin.

“No…no no…not me, please.” She whispered.

The blood pouring started to slow down, and so did her breathing.

The man smirked as her pupils started to grow bigger and bigger, signaling that they were finally becoming alike.

He crouched down to her level and cupped one of her cheeks with his bloodstained hands,

“I’m sorry for this sweetheart, but it’s the only way I could ever fix you….

By breaking you.”

148 notes · View notes

florenceisfalling · 1 year

Text

waiting for the sky to fall

the yeehaw egos au is basically a self-indulgent little scramble of ideas based off of the thought: what if the egos were modern rural texans? seeing as that is where im from :) this first little bit exists without context, there shall be more but im not sure if i'll add chapters or write separate works. but this one is 4500 or so words. the pacing is kinda weird, since i started writing it back in june and got lost somewhere between then and now.

warnings for brief mentions of drug use and alcohol, and somewhat more direct talk abt homophobia - including mentions of a shitty father who is neglectful and intolerant at best.

marvin meets chase's daughter on a sunny day.

➳➵➸➼➽

The sun is just at the point in the sky where its light encroaches on the porch’s shadow, and Marvin has to pull his toes back a little closer to the wooden rocking chair in order to avoid the heat. He hums and turns back to squint through the window screen, catching 4:33 PM on the clock in the kitchen. Eventually, the sun will dip far enough below the shingled awning for the light to hit his eyes directly, lighting up the flakes of gold that rest in his irises, and he’ll have to go inside; for now, his red sunglasses are enough to block it out. He uses one finger to prop them up a little higher til they sit on the scar across the bridge of his nose, then goes back to letting his red-painted nails dry, holding them out on the armrests of the chair and rocking softly back and forth to the sound of cicadas, barking dogs, and the lawn sprinklers.

Soon, another sound joins the chorus, though it’s one less familiar to him. Something bouncing on the concrete, a giggle as the sprinklers turn left across the yard. He opens one eye to see a little girl, quite the ragamuffin in a denim skirt and faded old pink-camo shirt, both stained with grass and dirt and other things unknown. She’s dropped a red kickball on the sidewalk. She lets it roll into the grass so she can spin in dizzy circles as the sprinkler sprays over her, drenching a mess of choppy caramel hair as she finally cools off in the Texas heat.

“Does your mama know you’re wandering by yourself?” Marvin questions from the porch, putting one sandaled foot down to stop his chair from rocking anymore.

The girl hides her startled eyes with a bright smile, a gap-toothed grin of feigned innocence. “Mama’s out of town.”

“And your dad?”

At that, the girl just starts spinning in circles once again, and chases down the sprinkler as it tries to sway rightward. Marvin sighs, takes a sip from an ice-cold glass of lemonade, then speaks again. “Well, do you have a name?”

She spins, and spins, and nearly topples over to the ground when she turns back to face him, eyes not quite focused after making herself into a clumsy little centrifuge. “Darcy Brody. What’s your name?”

“Marvin. Are you a Brody like Charles Brody?”

Charles is not a kind man, nor a fun man, entirely unlike Darcy. Most of his interaction with Marvin consists of loathing glares and on more than one occasion a drunken exchange of joking insults - or, perhaps more accurately, insulting jokes. Other than that, the two try tirelessly to avoid each other, a hard feat for a duo three blocks away from each other in a tiny, isolating town. The task would be much more difficult if Darcy had any relation to him.

And unfortunately, Darcy nods. “Grandpa Charles was supposed to watch me, but he’s taking a nap. The house was boring by myself…”

“Well, you ought to go back inside. You’re too young to run around so close to the road,” Marvin chides, ready to close his eyes and go back to relaxing in his rocking chair.

Darcy’s gaze falls to her feet, kicking a bit at the wet grass with her clogs. “I can’t open the door.”

He hardly stifles a groan, “You locked yourself out?”

She nods. “But Dad said I go home at five.”

“Will he pick you up?”

One more nod, and Marvin mirrors the movement. “D’you know your daddy’s phone number, then?”

“I know there’s a number five in it… and that’s it.”

He hums in response, sitting up out of his rocking chair and tapping his nails to make sure they’re dried. “Alright, I’m not gonna be the one to wake your grandpa up. He hates me already… Tell you what, you wait right there, honey, don’t get any closer to the road. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, then plops down on the grass, as a promise not to stray too close to the cars. Most of her hair falls into her face over her now-closed eyes, the water sprays over her again, and she seems perfectly content to cool off right there. The pink in her shirt is starting to turn green with grass stains, but she doesn’t mind one bit.

Marvin smiles and leaves the chair to rock all alone, then slams the back of his heel against the door with his elbow holding down the handle. The warped frame sticks, but finally gives way with a quiet crack. The front room is all dramatic business, decorated with tapestries and sun-faded sheer print curtains, crystals and stained glass hanging in every window. Hints of the ugly plastic bug screens still show through, but only a little. A stacked deck of tarot cards, two empty teacups, a covered crystal ball, and an unlit candelabrum lay still on the center table, waiting for an anxious adulterer, superstitious traveler, or daring teenager to ask their advice. Marvin leaves his dusty shoes by the door. Lazily he shuffles through the beads and curtains guarding the hallway, revealing the more honest half of the building - all his personal rooms, including the hall closet he currently approaches.

Behind the broom and dustpan, and a bundle of woven grocery bags shoved ungracefully inside each other, sits a hefty cardboard box neatly labeled “YARD SHIT” in purple permanent marker. Marvin shoves everything else out of the way and rips open the most busted flap at the top of the box, happy to see his bag of sidewalk chalk is exactly where he left it: tossed right on top of a broken pink plastic flamingo and a particularly grumpy looking garden gnome.

He grabs the bag and pumps it into the air like an athlete raising a new trophy gripped with white knuckles, then stands fully back up and swings the closet door shut. He puts his shoes back on once he reaches the front doorway. After a moment to appreciate the air conditioner, far preferable to the heat outside, he finally makes it back out to the blistering sunset. Relieved to see Darcy still splayed under the sprinkler, he grabs his glass of lemonade from beside the rocking chair and leaves the creaky porch for the cement driveway.

Darcy leans up when she sees a tall shadow cast across her grassy resting spot, turning to curiously raise her eyebrows at Marvin.

“Here you go, Miss Brody! Brought you something to keep you busy.”

He drops the bag of chalk from the crook of his elbow, letting the contents roll out all over the concrete. As soon as the sight registers in Darcy’s eyes, she darts over to the shady side of the driveway, scooping up an orange piece of chalk and testing out the color. Marvin slowly sits criss-cross next to her, careful not to spill his drink, then picks up a green chalk. “I take it your grandpa doesn’t have much of this sort of thing?”

Darcy shakes her head, starting to sketch out the shape of a goldfish. “Nope. And the only board games he owns are about math and stuff.”

“Oh, my, not math and stuff!” Marvin exaggeratedly gasps, starting his own drawing with a looping figure eight. He briefly glances up from his handiwork to stare over at Charles’ house, making sure Darcy can be seen from the eldest Brody’s porch as well as the road. “That doesn’t sound very fun at all! But you can have this chalk when you go home, so you won’t get bored if you stay at his house again.”

“Really?” Darcy asks, scribbling some fins on her fishy drawing.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure your dad takes ‘em when he picks you up. I never really use these anyway.”

Despite his words, he starts to doodle more details on his picture. Another parallel line curving with the first, ending in a set of fangs, a shiny eye drawn in black. Darcy takes the black piece from beside Marvin, and uses it to draw a round bowl around her goldfish. Once satisfied, she starts to fill it with bright blue water and tiny white bubbles. “Are you drawing a snake?”

Marvin hums out a quiet, distracted “mhm.” The snake bites at its own tail, so he picks up a thin sliver of a broken red chalk to start drawing a forked tongue.

“What’s its name?”

“Ouroboros, from an Egyptian story.” It’s a simple explanation, but small children most often don’t need to understand ancient metaphors for endless cycles of creation and destruction.

Darcy’s face lights up with recognition just enough, though. “Teacher said Egypt has lots of sand, and big pyramids, too. Have you ever been there?”

The man smiles. “No, it’s a little too far away… how about your goldfish, does it have a name?”

“Oh, it’s just called Goldfish,” she solemnly states, as the topic is quite serious to her. She adds some waves to the top of the blue water. “Fish don’t need names, because they don’t talk very much.”

Marvin nods quite sagely, agreeing with her thoughts. He can’t argue with that logic.

➳➵➸➼➽

It took about twenty more minutes for Darcy’s dad to arrive, pulling in front of Charles’ house in a dented-up car with three rows of seats and far too many bumper stickers. Marvin quickly waved him over and explained the situation, while Darcy kept on coloring her fish. By 5:00 PM, she had completed many more aquatic creatures, with creative names like “Shark,” “Crab,” and “Dolphin,” and had just begun to draw a new kind of animal she invented. She titled it “Sillyfish.”

With no desire to interrupt her masterpiece, her father and Marvin struck up a conversation instead of parting ways. The newcomer to town awkwardly introduced himself as Chase, a name his mother picked as a compromise so that his father wouldn’t insist on calling him Charles Junior. Chase looks like he was from an entirely different world than the boring Charles, decked out in a colorful tie-dye shirt and yellow sneakers, a row of about 9 tangled-up friendship bracelets stacked on his wrist, a patchy baseball hat, and a smiley face pin hanging lopsided from his pocket. The only thing he has in common with his father is a pair of matching eyebags, dark and heavy under his long blonde lashes.

“Thank you for taking care of Darcy,” he awkwardly says, glaring in the direction of the home she was supposed to be in. “I swear I’m gonna chew my dad out for at least an hour - I hope he doesn’t drive you too crazy, as your neighbor.”

Marvin waves him off, “He’s quite alright, what’s got you worried about him?”

“Oh, come on,” Chase grins. “He’s a total hardass on everybody.”

That only earns a stiff laugh, and Chase tries to coax more out of Marvin. “He used to half-jokingly say he should’ve beat me senseless because I wore… what was it… ‘too much lavender.’ Sorry for doubting his politeness towards you.”

He makes a little waving gesture with his hands, drawing attention to Marvin’s now-sparkly fingertips.

Ah. A bit of a frown pulls at Marvin’s face, but he shrugs. “Oh, it’s not as if I’m unaccustomed to it. On the bright side, most the Puritans in town are too worried about my evil witchcraft to be primarily concerned about the…glamor.”

Chase’s gaze leaves Marvin’s sharp features to drift over the house instead - getting a proper look at the neon sign shaped like an eye in the window, the Christmas lights hung around the patio, the sprawling word PSYCHIC in bold, tacked to the roof and painted with stars. Darcy pulls his sight away by tugging on the ankle hem of his jeans, trying to show off her next drawing, but a moment and a compliment later he’s already back to staring at the charming decor. “All that magic and mojo, that’s s’pposedly real?”

Marvin gives him a mischievous grin back. “Sure thing.”

“Oh, bull.” Chase says. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“Dad! Language!” Darcy scolds, slamming down her chalk with a scowl.

Marvin fake pouts, crossing his arms in a mockery of offense. “I would never lie to such a good man as yourself, Mr. Brody.”

That itself is a terrible lie, but it isn’t like Chase would believe him even if he was telling the truth. He scoffs, shakes his head, a playful smile still lighting up his face. Darcy is now staring between the both of them, curious as ever.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Marvin offers, one eyebrow raised. “I’ll even give you a discount.”

Chase finally breaks into full laughter, sighing in relent and shifting to pull his wallet from his back pocket. “How much I owe you, then?”

“Five bucks sound good?”

Stubby fingers rifle through the worn bills, before producing a ten. “Extra’s for the babysitting fee,” he teases, ruffling Darcy’s hair.

➳➵➸➼➽

Inside the house is much cooler in temperature, a welcome change to the sweat rolling like a river down Chase’s back. Darcy sits enraptured with the books on the shelf, flipping through fairytale illustrations and charts of the stars, while Chase has a couple of thoughts tumbling through his brain regarding Marvin’s choice of interior design.

“Ain’t that a fire hazard?”

Marvin furrows his brows. “Which part?”

Gaze trailing from the layers upon layers of fabric draped about, the candles scattered around every surface, the crystals hanging near the sunlit window… Chase shrugs. “All of it?”

The magician pulls out a chair for Chase, with an awful scraping noise against the thin and creaking wood floorboards. He drums his nails against the back of it and waits for his guest to sit, though Chase does so with a bit of hesitation. “Well, I’m sure the place won’t burn down in the next couple minutes. You should be perfectly safe.”

However unsure he may be, Chase still laughs, and tries to relax in the chair, arms wrapping around himself despite how warm he was before he came inside.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Marvin teases. He’s now across the table from Chase, and the latter of the two is becoming increasingly aware of just how much he has to crane his neck upward to meet Marv’s eyes.

“I- I’ve just never done this sorta thing before. Well, aside from a Ouija board in seventh grade.”

Marvin pouts, only a little. “It’s a fortune, Chase, not an interrogation. All you have to do is sit there and relax.”

“Alright, alright,” he capitulates, releasing the tension in his shoulders and shaking out his arms a moment. Once he’s settled, he leans forward, intertwining his fingers to rest his scruffy chin on his knuckles, and rest his elbows on the table.

With a gentle sigh, the magician lets a smile drift back onto his own face. “Good. Now…” he turns his attention to Darcy for just another moment, “My dear, could you promise to stay quiet down there for a little while?”

She nods solemnly, content now to flip through an old Cicely Mary Barker book of flower fairies, and mind a bit of her own magic.

“Thank you kindly.”

And with that, Marvin leans his head back on the chair. His sunglasses are now pulled up over his forehead, keeping his reddish hair from falling into his face. For a moment, he lets his eyelids stay shut. The breath he exhales seems to leave the room shuddering along with it, settling into its comfortable place. With it, he stretches his legs and relaxes. As if to open the gates to his heart, or unfurling some unseen map, his arms spread wide on the tabletop.

When he opens his eyes, the candles flicker with life between the two men, though they weren’t before. Chase looks startled, as if he was going to ask how - but is soon caught on another sight, stumbling over his astonishment - “Y- your eyes…”

Usually, guests come at night, when the shadows play more tricks. Sometimes, though, they see what Chase sees now: Marvin’s pupils blown inhumanly wide, like a cat trying to take in as much light as possible in a dim room.

Marvin presses a single slender finger to his own lips, shhh. Then, he trails his hand slowly across some invisible thread to the velvet cover on the crystal ball, pulling it away with a flick of his wrist. “Just parlor tricks, Mr. Brody. Try to focus.”

The look on Chase’s face tells Marvin that it will be a much harder task for him than anticipated, but Marv doesn’t mind. He finds the awestruck expression to be rather endearing. He almost giggles, though he feels a bit guilty, when he reaches across to take Chase’s right hand by the wrist and the poor guest practically flinches.

Still, Marvin guides him along, and Chase soon rests his calloused palm smoothly against the clear surface. Marvin places his own hands on the other side. When the magician takes a deep breath, sitting up straighter to stare into the globe, his guest naturally follows suit. Half a minute passes in near silence. The only sound remaining in the room is the papers moving while Darcy continues her quiet reading.

Marvin interrupts the tranquil, drags his hands away.

“Let me see his strings of fate.”

And with that, the magic obeys.

In the distorted light, a mirage comes to life. Two figures dancing across from what looks like kitchen cabinets, hand in hand dipping back and forth like a boat rocking on the sea. A child, maybe Darcy, scrambling after a cottontail rabbit. Sparklers leaving glimmering trails to red dirt, and the tiny snap of tweezers pinching closed. There’s the grit of soil, and the haze of grill smoke, and the crispness of cobbler baking in the oven.

“It’s lovely,” Marvin sighs, offering Chase just a hint of what he sees through his words. “Though you’re clumsy, Chase, you need to practice your two-step.”

Before the subject can further draw his attention away, Marvin searches deeper. This time, he speaks aloud.

“Charles is awake now. You’ve got a six pack of Shiner in the back of your car right now, and you’ll almost forget it when you go into the house. Darcy, very excited, will tell you she saw something in the woods-” he tries to read the shape of her mouth, though the image is hazy - “something I believe she’s calling a fairy. I don’t know when. And the next time you argue, your wife won’t yell back.”

He doesn’t question the last thing, only pressing forward into the thick of the magic. He swears the room grows brighter with every breath.

“You’ll find new friends here - your path is very intertwined with this place. Meeting someone at the motel, finding someone at the church… someone very…very shaky…? Wait a moment, that…”

The room doesn’t grow brighter this time. Marvin forgets how to breathe.

Chase nearly pulls away, but stops himself. “Is everything okay? You look lost.”

Something is not right about the man in the church pews. The images start flickering faster in the crystal, and Marvin’s hands begin to twitch.

There’s blood spilling over a stair, a shadow looming over it before a steel-toed boot comes crashing down into the red. Bony fingers with dirt-tipped nails pluck at fiddle strings. A silver pistol barrel first rests pressed against Chase’s temple, but traces down his jaw instead. Chains rattle and then tug tight in a steel hook. Tiny, dirty mud boots, decorated with pastel hearts, trample over the garden flowers, and leave behind prints that trail into the dark woods. Black ink seems to drip from the top of the scrying tool. It spills over its curved surface and pools inside.

“Marvin?”

The visions vanish, and are replaced by the image of a single, glowing green eye in the surface of the crystal ball, watching back at Marvin, whose heart is slamming against his ribcage in ecstatic terror.

“Marvin!”

Finally, he breaks away from his stupor, and stares Chase down. He remembers at last to inhale, exhale, stretch his fingers taut from his palms and force them to stop trembling. Chase looks equally disturbed, hand no longer anywhere near the crystal ball - which was clear quartz just a moment ago, but now looks more like something made from obsidian.

“What the fuck kinda parlor trick was that, Marvin?”

The candelabrum flames die of their own accord. Darcy turns to her father in a scandalized state, slamming down the worn copy of Flower Fairies of the Summer to put her tiny hands over her ears. Once more, she berates him - “Watch your language!”

Neither man even looks at her, but Marvin collects himself enough to respond, face devoid of any perceived emotion. “Darcy, your grandpa’s up. Go knock on his door, please, get your stuff to go home with your dad.”

“But I wasn’t done reading-”

“Please, Darcy,” Marvin tries again. There's just a twinge of force in his voice.

She doesn’t move, not until her father nods in agreement. Once she has set the book back on the cluttered shelf, she dusts off her skirt and heads out, eager to pick up her new pile of chalk from outside. Her skipping steps have only faded off the porch for a moment before Chase is already back to his interrogation. At least he’s quieter, now, leaning over to half-whisper it in disbelief, “Are you high off your ass?”

Marvin shakes his head. “You need to leave.”

Chase leans away, pale eyelashes drawing closer as his brow furrows. “No. No, what are you on? Your eyes look like -”

“No, not ‘leave my house’. Leave town. And fast.”

Marvin is now up out of his chair, searching around the room for something he was hoping he wouldn’t have to use again. He remembers in his pacing where he tucked it months ago, and leans down to a low wooden cabinet on the opposite side of the room; when opened on its squeaking hinges, dust and cobwebs frame the entrance. He reaches inside and pulls out a thick black tarp, wrapped around something heavy. With none of his usual grace, he turns and drops it into the chair he was sitting in before.

“Leave t- why?”

Marvin raps his knuckles against the edge of the crystal ball, now too dark to be transparent. “Whatever brought you back to this place is something very nasty. I can see that now.” Then, he begins to unwrap the plastic tarp, revealing the weight inside - a hardwood-handled sledgehammer with a rusted ten-pound head.

Chase finally stands, shoving the chair back into its place beneath the table. It clatters against the uneven floor, warped wood threatening to splinter. “Yes, sure! Fine! We moved here because my brother-in-law died - dark, I know! Still, that doesn’t explain why I need to leave - or why you’re acting so batshit!”

“Your brother-in-law was a García, wasn’t he?” Marvin asks in a casual monotone, though it’s more of a certain statement than a real question. He sets the hammer on the table, and yanks the tarp open, shaking out the dust and splaying it wrinkled across the floor.

That stops Chase in his tracks, and he drops the defensive tone for just a moment. “Yeah, h- why?”

“Because-” interrupting himself with a groan, Marvin hefts the crystal ball off of its stand and leaves it in the center of the tarp - “It wasn’t an accident. I know who killed him, and I saw him again in your own future.”

Back to the accusatory tone, Chase’s mouth falls open in shock. “Bullshit! I didn’t see any of that!”

“Chase.” With a good bit of effort, Marvin swings the sledgehammer over his own shoulder, fierce and now-slitted eyes piercing into Chase’s heart. It’d be nice to imagine that the magician’s gaze was enough to intimidate him into taking a few steps back, but the large metal tool probably did most of the work there. “Nobody sees their own future. Now stand back.”

And once Chase listens, Marvin flips his sunglasses back over his eyes, like a last resort for protection. Then, he lifts the hammer and swings it down on the crystal ball hard.

It doesn’t shatter in a messy spray across the room, instead splitting in fractals with an awful crunch and dropping to the ground in a couple of pieces. Whatever has happened to it, it isn’t quartz anymore. There isn’t any light or clarity left in it, just shadow and jagged edges.

Once the job is done, Marvin drops the sledgehammer to the ground by the remnants of destruction, though it seems to shake the walls. He sighs, and turns to Chase, looking pale and a moment away from crumbling himself. “If you won’t leave town, at least take some of my advice. Don’t leave your kids with someone as absentminded as your father. Keep your eyes open, and talk to Henrik at the vet’s office when you need help.”

“The vet?” Chase laughs for just a single breath, discomfort and shock still clear. Despite the fact that the hammer is no longer being wielded, his body still trembles in alarm.

Marvin’s face doesn’t change, set in stone with a practiced determination. “Yes, the vet. He’s good at stitches.”

They stare at each other for another few moments. Chase looks like he’s seen a ghost, though Marvin’s the only one in the room who’s really seen several.

“I still don’t believe you,” Chase mumbles, his voice missing any of the frustration and volume it had before. He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself than speaking the truth.

Marvin shrugs, slumping against the table and turning to face the wreckage of the crystal ball. It’s not the only one he’s had to break so far in these past few years.

“Fine. But no refunds.”

Once the silence has continued long enough for Chase to feel safe leaving, he stumbles past the psychic and back out the door.

➳➵➸➼➽

The ride back to the late Javier García’s old ranch is quiet, and uncomfortable, the trees seeming to loom in their headlight silhouettes as if reaching out for the Brody family car. Darcy starts the drive restless, shaking around her bag of chalk, but is asleep with her face pressed against the window by the time they pull past the fence and down the bumpy road.

Chase replays the evening over a million times in his head, trying to imagine how he’ll tell Stacy. If he’ll tell Stacy. He doesn’t understand what happened enough to repeat it for her, so he decides to tell her an abridged version. One that lends itself to more believable ideas - just some clever little actor trying to scare Chase into falling for magic.

He’s so busy thinking over it, in fact, that as he walks a drowsy Darcy across the stone path to the front porch, he almost forgets that he left the Shiner six-pack sitting in the back of his car. Waiting, just as promised by that clever little actor.

Just a coincidence, surely.

#jse egos #yeehaw egos #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #texan au #my ego posts #my writing #my fics

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keepsmagnetoaway · 17 days

Text

Amazing Adventures 16 (January 1973)

Steve Englehart/Bob Brown & Marie Severin

This is (sort of: see below) the last of the six-issue run that Beast got in Amazing Adventures, an anthology title that featured short arcs for different characters. Does it, therefore, tidy up this generally very strong series and leave us with a new status quo for Hank McCoy? Absolutely not.

As you can tell from that fantastic title page, one part of this story is a Beast/Juggernaut showdown, which is kind of whatever, I don't really like Juggernaut and it's just a lot of smashing through walls and so forth, although the art is nice.

It's the context for this fight, though, that makes this issue completely bananas. First off, great news: the mysterious woman who'd been following Beast, and finally tracked him down on the last page of the previous issue, was indeed our beloved Vera. Hell yes!

For reasons that will not at all be explained in this issue (but will eventually be explained in a different issue of a different book) Vera and Hank (who is concealing his recent transformation from Vera) are driving north to Canada to deal with some kind of crisis, and in doing so are passing through the little - and very real - town of Rutland, Vermont, on Halloween night. This is where things get weird.

Hey, isn't that...Batman? And Superman? In a Marvel comic?

And who's this woman dressed as Supergirl talking to Hank, and why are she and the guy behind her visibly drawn very differently from the regular characters?

And why the hell is this party full of people dressed as superheroes, talking about comics? Folks...it's a meta issue!

Not only that, but this is actually the first in a secret, unofficial inter-company crossover series. There's a lot more detail on it at this exhaustive blog post but, long story short, the Rutland Halloween parade was a real event run by a huge comics fan, Tom Fagan - that's him welcoming Hank to the party. Fagan was such a big fan, and the parade so successful, that real comics writers began visiting it and becoming friends of Fagan's, and eventually the town, the parade and Fagan himself started showing up in comics.

All the secondary characters in this issue are real comics writers: the guy with long blonde hair and glasses is Steve Englehart, the writer of this very issue. The others include Len Wein, who at the time was a DC writer and who cooked up this whole thing with Englehart and some others, including his wife Glynis Wein, who also worked in comics (she's the woman dressed as Supergirl): Wein then set his next issue of the DC title Justice League of America at the very same parade, dealing with all the havoc Juggernaut had caused without showing Juggernaut, and then the ball was bounced back to Marvel for an issue of Thor that tied the story up. All of this was conceived by the writers with no overhead direction, and presumably made a lot of copyright lawyers very sweaty when they found out about it.

Anyway, this all makes for a totally bizarre reading experience and not a very good issue - before you go looking it up, it's clear that there are loads of jokes here that you're not getting, and the entire issue is basically an in-joke, but it's sort of a cute piece of history. Meanwhile, poor forgotten Hank and Vera have to continue their own story, but they were done with their run on Amazing Adventures (the next issue is a filler which does feature Beast, but only in the form of reprints from his original X-Men adventures). What we're reading next, therefore, is a couple of other issues that intersect with these stories: an issue of Marvel Team-Up and one of the Incredible Hulk where all this supposedly comes together.

#x men comics #an xmen a day #xmen #beast #hank mccoy #amazing adventures

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rotfics · 11 months

Text

bedtime

context: neither kin or royce can sleep anymore unless dredge is there with them. i’ll put why in tags. also see asterisks

“Dredge? Dredge, th’ fuck are you?” Royce kept poking around his normal spots that were not with them for a moment. Her shoulders slouched and she rubbed her eyes, glasses raising up, in annoyance. It’s been around 2-3 years with this routine. To be fair, his brain issues kinda get in the way, but normally someone would have rounded him up to Royce and Kin. 10 pm.

“DREDGE-”

“I’M HERE what huh?” Dredge shook out of whatever the hell trance he was in. “Wh’shappen the hell you yellin for??”

Royce crossed her arms a bit and leaned against the wall with a look.

“...Oh it’s time for bed. Yeah, right, got it, up, getting up, g’n up,” Dredge hoisted himself up a bit and shook off whatever stiffness he just had going on by... sitting there in the dark by himself.

Royce stood up straight and looked at him funny. He did weird stuff all the time, yeah, but it doesn’t ever make it any less confusing to come across.

“Why the hell were you sitting alone in the dark?”

“...I didn’t know I was doing that until you told me.”

With a sigh she ran her fingers through Dredges hair. Everyone knew that Dredge sometimes dissociated into fairly bad places, mentally.

“You go somewhere bad, then?”

“No, not this time.” Dredge looked at his claws and did grabby motions (not at anyone). “Just sort of...nowhere.”

“Ohthankfuck- Mm, good,” Royce coughed out a bit to try and cover up her kneejerk reaction. Dredge just looked up at her with the same affectionate look mixed with.. something else, he always does. Kinda saying ‘Yeah, I know’ about him not going into a dark place, as well.

The two made it to their shared bedroom with Kin, who was bouncing all over the bed until she saw they were there. “HEY GUYAYSHDFG-” She fell off the bed with a thud.

“M’OKAY!” Kin scrambled up onto the bed and nearly vibrated the whole time Dredge changed, and took his mask off, all but tackling him onto the mattress and kissing him basically all over his face. Dredge just accepted this... it happens constantly.

“Ey, hey, me?” Royce laughed as Kin proceeded to nearly tackle her girlfriend too, giving her the same treatment. Kins tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Gay.” Dredge cracked his back a bit and flomped down. “Royce, you need a venom hit*?)”

“Yes, please. My arms hurt the most today.”

Dredge handed it over, and Royce immediately laid down and sighed out a thanks. Kin just kinda watched with her cheek on the bed

“...C’ we go to bed now, plea..” Royce slurred, already basically passed out from the effects of Dredges venom. She fumbled for one of his arms to wrap around her.* “Mhmnnh..” She was out like a light.

Dredge rolled his eyes a little and took her glasses off, putting them on the nightstand. “Feel like I save her glasses from being broken by being slept on... constantly.”

“...Uh, am I going cool or warm* tonight.” Dredge asked Kin, since she was the only other one of ‘em awake.

“OOH uh warm, please!” With a little laugh she nuzzled her face up on his cheek. “You smell weird.”

“Probably because I’m sweaty..kinda.”

“Not a bad weird, whatever, dude. I love you, Dredge.” Kin mushed her face against the side of his.

“Love you too. ...And also Royce.” (Who already started snoring.)

Kin got as close as she could and dozed off; tugging his other arm until he put that one on her too.

They all always sleep like that.

#They cant sleep w/o him anymore bc of: Body Temp - Comforting weight - Generally they hate being apart from each other #*Dredge has venom/blood that is a potent painkiller for undead and/or monster indivduals. Royce has chronic pain.#*Dredge can regulate his body temp at will #*Dredges arms are heavyish like weighted blankets and it helps Royce a lot #I love these three #Trio tag #Royce Kinsley #Kin Heidrich #Canon!Dredge #oc shit #domestic kinda shit #speak boy!

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ermine-writer · 2 years

Text

Triplets!

@pippanther you asked for triplets so let's go. Triplets meeting Agustín as Julieta's 'not-quite' boyfriend for the first time!!

This was supposed to be short but I got into it, so uh, hope you enjoy.

Pepa loved her sister. And her brother and her Mamá, obviously. But she definitely loved her sister, not more than the other two, obviously. But Julieta never handled Pepa, she asked how she was doing and always tried to make her feel better. Mamá just said "you have a cloud" or "Pepa the wind!" and never really asked how she was, unless she was all out crying or hurt but Pepa had big feelings so normally she just needed someone to listen. That someone normally being Julieta. Even Bruno could get a little freaked out, the wind would blow his rats around and his sand would get everywhere.

But Julieta was never like that. Julieta would offer her an arepa and then Pepa would sit on the kitchen counter kneading beating dough into submission and Julieta would listen to whatever she said. Nodding and humming when she was supposed to, calling other people the crazy one and agreeing that Félix was definitely hitting on her and not just "being friendly". Eventually the storm would calm and Julieta would have dinner ready and Mamá would be ecstatic to eat in a dry dining room and Bruno with his rats hidden under his ruana would slip into his chair.

That's how things worked. Pepa knew it. She liked it. She liked familiar things. She liked knowing what to expect. She even liked Bruno's gift because it let her prepare for things to come. And that's why she was in Bruno's room. Because Julieta was acting weird all morning and when Pepa visited her stall in town, she'd been rushed away with a call of "Talk later!" so Julieta could fish a man out of the fountain and it was all very strange. Pepa didn't really like strange.

Bruno's vision showed them all having dinner, but there was an extra seat at the table? Okay, they have visitors all the time, and there wasn't anyone sitting in the chair or even standing by the chair?? They all looked the same age as they do now so it had to be soon. But the thing with Bruno's visions is that they don't come with a date or any context. He had that look he always had when he wished he had more to tell someone, or something different to say so Pepa thanked him and they went downstairs where Mamá was making dinner because Julieta was still in town.

She put them to work immediately, fixing dinner and setting the table. Casita's door slammed open and Julieta, 'calm-and-collected-healer-of-the-town' Julieta was skidding across the floor so hard she bounced off one of the pillars. She popped up, righting herself as hair slipped from her braided bun all around her face, her dress was wet and dirty along the bottom, she was missing a shoe. Chest heaving and trying to smooth the stray hairs around her face, she straightened her dress.

"Mamá," her voice cracked, her siblings looked at each other in confusion. Julieta cleared her throat. "Can, um, can a guest come to dinner? Tonight? As in, in the next few minutes, tonight tonight?" Mamá looked at the healer as she stirred a pot. A slow glance up and down then back to the pot.

"Get cleaned up, mija," Julieta deflated, starting for the stairs and while her back was turned Mamá smiled at the other two. "Y mijo, set an extra place at the table," she said. Julieta full on squealed, pumping her fists in the air and nothing short of flying up the stairs and into her room. Even Mamá chuckled and went back to cooking.

Just as the food was ready, Julieta was screaming from the balcony for Pepa to come upstairs. She finished pouring water into the glasses on the table, and went up, slightly concerned to see her even keeled sister so erratic. Julieta had changed into what Pepa knew to be her favorite dress, it was navy blue and was a little big so it hung off one shoulder and dragged a little but hugged her waist really nicely and had pretty purple waves embroidered on it. It had been a birthday gift from Pepa and Bruno. But the dress was beside the point because her sister dragged her into the room with all the strength of a hurricane.

"Pepa, my hair." Julieta sobbed. Pepa put her hands to her mouth in concern, Julieta had a comb in one hand, and very poofy hair practically floating around her head.

"Juli," she couldn't even think of the right question as she pried the comb from her sister's hand and forced her to sit in front of the mirror. She'd combed out all her curls and what remained was a little too frizzy for salvation or a bun. Pepa hesitantly started to part it, maybe she could put it into two asymmetrical braids and put a bow on the end? Julieta had tears in her eyes as she watched her sister begin to braid the right side.

"So who's this special dinner guest?" Bruno appeared in the doorway, closing it behind him and locking eyes with Pepa when he saw how fluffy Julieta's hair looked. She bugged her eyes back and went back to carefully braiding one side. Julieta's face immediately flushed and she went to tug at one of the curls near her face before Pepa shooed her hand away.

"Be helpful," Pepa hissed, handing the end of the braid to Bruno to hold as she started on the lower left third of Julieta's hair.

"N-no one im-important. Just-just a friend from town. He- his, uh, Mamá is making his favorite food for dinner so I invited him." She was avoiding their eyes in the mirror but her siblings locked eyes over her head.

"So there's a 'him' now?" Bruno drawled. If possible, Julieta's face flushed even more, she opened her mouth but no sound came out. Pepa passed Bruno the finished braid and went over to Julieta's dresser for a ribbon to match her dress.

"You're one to talk about 'him now'?" Julieta snarked, lightly hitting her brother as Pepa came back to tie the bow. Julieta immediately jumped up, dusting off her dress and scrutinizing the braids before hugging Pepa and starting for the door. She stopped with her hand on it.

"Okay okay, because I know you two. Yes, there's a him. Yes, he's coming to dinner," she said narrowing her eyes at the other two and setting her hands on her hips. "But no, you can't do anything! Or-or I won't feed your for a week! No! A whole month! A-A-" her siblings just hugged her, smirking behind her back. "I'm not kidding!"

"Alright, alright. We get it." Pepa said.

"No shenanigans." Bruno agreed.

Julieta had her eyes narrowed but nonetheless nodded and led the way downstairs. Mamá was already sitting at the head of the table and there was a knock on the door. Julieta glared, shoving her siblings towards the dining room so she could open the door. Her siblings sat, intentionally on opposite sides of the table, as Julieta walked back in with Agustín, beaming at him, and glaring at her siblings. She let Agustín sit next to Bruno as she sat next to Pepa. "You're not clever," Julieta hissed but Pepa was smiling her nicest smile and Mamá was already making polite conversation.

Dinner was peaceful. Pretty soon Pepa forgot this was supposed to be strange and that she wasn't supposed to like it. Agustín was kinda funny and he made Julieta and Mamá laugh which was no easy feat so Pepa liked him a little more. She'd known him, of course. He was always at Julieta's stall because he was always broken in one way or another, usually bee stings, but it seemed like he'd been around every day since forever so having him for dinner wasn't new. But the way Julieta was acting was definitely new. And if his nervous chuckles and refusal to look at Julieta when she was looking at him was anything to go by then, something had changed.

"Pepa, the fog. You're foggy," Mamá said and Pepa chuckled nervously, waving an empty plate around to clear the fog. Bruno kicked her under the table, they locked eyes. His eyes shifted to Agustín, then back to her then over her head then to Julieta then her then finally Mamá. Ohhhh! A perfect plan. She nodded once. "Excuse me a moment," Mamá said, looking at Bruno and Pepa with a raised brow and oh, she was definitely in on it. A rat scurried under the table, across Pepa's foot and she yelped, a bolt of lightning striking Agustín's hand. He yelped and Julieta was immediately on her feet. Something about "her room" and "be right back" and then she was gone, out of the dining room in a blink.

The remaining Madrigal's grinned.

"So?" "You and Julieta?" "Best healer in town." "Clumsiest kid in town." "Sounds perfect?" "A little too perfect."

They leaned into his face and Agustín's eyes bugged as he raised his hands in surrender.

"It's not like that. She's just funny and really sweet and-"

"Would you run into a burning building for her?"

"Sí."

"Fight a jaguar?"

"I could try?"

"Flee your hometown with your entire life on your back and ultimately sacrifice yourself for her and your baby to live with no hesitation?"

"Sí."

"Be a Madrigal and take care of this community?"

"Absolutely."

"Never make her cry because if you do you'll have to answer to me and my brother y nuestro Mamá?

"And Mamá can make you disappear so-"

"Sí." He put his hands down, looking the siblings in the eye. "Mira, I've known Julieta for pretty much my entire life. She's an amazing healer yes. That's undeniable, her gift is amazing. But she's amazing. When she's talking to the kids in town or dealing with an angry client or anything she does it with this smile on her face. And she's so careful and gentle and kind and loving. Mira, she may not love me and who knows exactly what our future is? Aside, from Bruno, of course. But, the point it, I promise, I want to keep that smile on her face for as long as I can. If that's till the end of dinner or the end of our lives, I'll take it."

Pepa huffed into her seat, Bruno slowly nodded and sat, patting Agustín on his shoulder. "Ay, so mushy. ¡Tan dulce!" Pepa pretended to gag but she was smiling.

"Alright, if Pepa approves there's not much I can do," Bruno said. Then he tightened his grip on Agustín's shoulder and his eyes glowed. "But I can see the future and if I ever see my sister crying over you, I'll let Pepa go full Old Testament God on you, okay?" Agustín nodded, eyes wide just in time for Bruno's eyes to stop glowing and the missing Madrigals to return. Julieta handed him an empanada.

"I know they're your favorite," she whispered as she adjusted her chair and tucked an imaginary hair behind her ear. Mamá smiled as the burn healed itself.

"So, what did we miss?"

#encanto #madrigal family #madrigal triplets #pepa madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #agustin madrigal #abuela madrigal #encanto fanfic #Ermi writes

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

dilf (and love) | knj | m

pairing: kim namjoon x oc

genre: fluff, domestic fluff, smut, established relationship, marriage and kids lol

warnings: light dom/sub themes, pregnancy kink, penetrative sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), DILF JOON

words: 6, 702

summary: it's been too long since you and namjoon had time to yourselves

“God take that thing away from me!” You whine as you smother your face with your hands.

Jin pins you with a dry look as he catches a glimpse of ‘that thing’ who is looking up at you with big eyes and a toothless grin.

“That thing is your child …” Jin says blandly.

“That thing is ruining my sex life.” You narrow your eyes at Chanmi as she babbles some incoherent words with her ten-month-old vocabulary. You’d think as the daughter and apple of Kim Namjoon’s eye that she’d be able to read, write and speak sixteen languages at the age of one.

You still allow Chanmi to wrap her chubby fingers around your thinner ones and you can’t help but coo at your daughter. While she may have been the one thing that disrupted any intimate moment between you and Namjoon, you would fight anyone that would ever dare to mess with her. Your own husband included.

“Please, spare the details,” Jin mutters under his breath as he watches Chanmi fondly as she attempts to tug at your sleeve in hopes of getting your attention. You squeeze her cheeks before lifting her up in your arms and hold her close to your chest. You whine because she smells so … fresh. Just like a little bread baby that was all yours.

God, you loved her.

“My old sex life brought me this angel.” You grin up at your daughter who just smiles at you, unknowing of the context of your words.

“Can you stop using such vulgar words in front of your child?” Jin scolds you but doesn’t do anything much to take Chanmi out of your grasp.

You roll your eyes.

“She’s like 300 days old. She doesn’t even know how to shit at a decent hour let alone understand what sex is. Penis in vagina. Destroying pussy. A hole in one. Railing—”

Jin slaps his hand over your mouth to get you to stop talking as he glares at you.

“Why did my brother marry a heathen like you.” Jin seethes.

You shrug nonchalantly as you turn your head to see your dumbhead yet smart-ass husband that was attempting to glue back the shards of glass from the wine glass he broke earlier in hopes of you not realising.

“He needed to put his 148 IQ to good use and I’m the best investment his finance major ever got him.”

“The only good thing that came out of your marriage is this cutie.” Jin coos at his niece and you have half the mind to withdraw his Chanmi visiting card because whenever he was over all he did was berate you and your … unique ways of parenting.

But Jin would still say he cared for you as far as a brother-in-law would but with the added benefit of the fact that he was your best friend before he became your brother-in-law. You were an interesting character, to say the least, and the only reason you managed to befriend Jin was due to the fact that you didn’t know what boundaries meant and had invaded his personal space on the first day of lectures when you leaned over him to throw something at a know-it-all. Jin had been annoyed, but then an unlikely friendship bloomed out of the mutual distaste for ‘Howard from Accounting’.

He introduced you to Namjoon just because he thought that it was hilarious that you and his brother were polar opposites. Jin didn’t even expect the two of you to get along with each other let alone fall in love, but life had a funny way of saying ‘fuck you and your expectations’ to Jin when he least expected it.

The only thing that he regrets is the fact that now he had to listen to both you and his brother whine about your sex life, or lack thereof after the two of you became parents. Being a mother was hard because there was no manual to tell you what was right or wrong when it came to your baby but the experience itself. When you first fed Chanmi softened shrimp in her meals and caused an allergic reaction; you cried for hours straight because you felt like you should’ve just known.

Namjoon was a good partner and an even better father because he was understanding. The first few months postpartum he respected the fact that you weren’t ready to show your body to him because of the way it changed after giving birth to Chanmi, and he never told you that you were in your head for feeling that way. He validated all your feelings through all the rough edges that you gave him when you were going through your own things.

You finally felt comfortable to get naked around Namjoon at the five-month mark where your sex drive returned to that of when you were in your early twenties and just begun knowing how to truly enjoy sexual intimacies with a partner, but a five-month-old baby didn’t allow for much intimacy with your hot ass husband either.

It sucked because Namjoon had always been broad and very dad-like, and after he officially became a father to Chanmi you just felt like salivating over him every waking second you got because … God … Namjoon was a gift from the God’s themselves. Whenever you saw the way he handled Chanmi with absolute gentleness and care you felt like dropping to your knees and sucking the soul out of him. It didn’t help that he wore his glasses every night when he tucked her into bed and read her Shakespeare because it would ‘help with development’. You loved your husband but he was a little excessive.

“Oh God stop drooling over my brother!” Jin grimaces when he sees the bedroom eyes you were shooting Namjoon from where the two of you were with Chanmi.

You sigh dreamily and lean against your palm as you check out Namjoon’s ass.

“I can’t help that your brother and my husband has an ass like that.” You click your tongue.

Chanmi giggles again and it’s like a bell chiming at your favourite cafe when you cuddle her closer, feeling comfort in her scent. She smelt just like home and bubbles.

“How about I give you a sibling, huh?” You whisper to Chanmi who just opens her mouth to babble. Jin on the other hand facepalms himself and sighs.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m horny.” You shrug.

“Correction: you’re insufferable on a daily basis but absolutely horrifying to deal with when you’re horny.” He sneers.

“I just need to bed him and I’ll be fine.” You drawl, as your husband who spent the better half of your conversation fixing the wine glass grins to himself with his dimples when he finally placed the last piece of glass back into place. He was so meticulous and cute for the wrong reasons.

“Jesus, stop …” Jin groans.

“Jesus would definitely tell me to go get that dick because I deserve it.” You pat yourself on the back and wince slightly when you smell the telltale signs of Chanmi’s poop permeating the air.

“Say … would Yoongi mind having Chanmi over your place for the weekend?” Jin recognizes the devious expression you have on your face and knows that there’s no way out of it.

“I don’t have a choice do I?” Jin sighs.

You shake your head.

“Nope. Cause’ I texted Yoongi yesterday and said he totally wants to see his niece. The baby bag is all ready to go and it’s in the nursery.” You cock your thumb to the room down the hallway and Jin thinks to himself of all the reasons why he shouldn’t have introduced you to his brother at all seven years back.

“It’s weird without her …” Namjoon frowns as the two of you stand in the nursery as if you were mourning the loss of your child. It felt a lot like it, though.

The two of you never spent more than a few hours away from Chanmi ever since she was born and it felt weird to not smell her vomit from the kitchen or hear her giggles as you cooked dinner. You missed Namjoon and the spark you had in the first years of your relationship but you also felt a little empty without Chanmi’s presence with you.

“I miss her.” You whine into Namjoon’s chest and he clutches you tightly as if to say that he mirrored your sentiment.

“Should we call them?” You look up at him with wide eyes and he smoothes the frown lines on your forehead and chuckles, offering a gentle kiss to your temples.

“We called fifteen minutes ago, remember?” He chides you gently.

You huff, “I just … it’s so quiet. Where are my baby babbles?” You pout.

Namjoon sighs and rubs his thumb comfortingly on your arm when you look around at the purple nursery with reminders of your daughter that wasn’t currently with you.

“Let’s enjoy what we have, okay love?” Namjoon offers, “I miss Chanmi too but I miss this too.”

You smile at him the way he first fell in love with you years ago and leans down to place a peck onto your lips.

“I miss having you all to myself.” He whispers against your lips and you shiver at the way his broadness is clouding all your senses.

“You always have me Joon.” You tell him in a tone as soft as his.

His chest rumbles when he laughs and you feel so warm in the comfort of your husband's arms and you felt it too. Besides the physical aspect of having sex with him, you missed holding him like this without a care in the world. Most of your cuddle sessions were left to the nights you slept next to each other in bed because the two of you were either exhausted with work or trying to care for Chanmi. It’s been a long time since you could just feel Namjoon’s presence with you.

“Besides … we can finally, you know …” He mumbles shyly into your hair and the devil horns that you hide most of the time reappear.

“What, Joon?” You smirk up at him, hands trailing slowly down his chest.

Your husband was so big that every room he walked into he basically commanded the attention of every single person that would come across him. That’s what happens when you’re six foot and broad like him. But you loved the fact that you were the only one that got to see the much softer side to him that he didn’t just show anyone. The fact that he was the CEO of his own company made his persona ever more intimidating than he actually was but you knew he was a huge softie on the inside.

The two of you were very different in many senses. From your personalities to the way you approached conflict. Namjoon was very diplomatic but you were anything but. He was truly the most empathetic and understanding person you’ve met in your entire life and you’ve seen a total of ten therapists in your teenage years. Namjoon was the balance that levelled your temper and uninhibited tendencies to always be the loudest person in every room. With every time you snarked at someone who pushed your buttons came Namjoon that placed a gentle hand on your back with a soft whisper of comfort.

In fact, most people thought the two of you would have never lasted. You heard those mean girls in college that made petty bets on the fact that you’d probably end up leaving him because you were too much of a bitch to deal with someone as kind as Namjoon. You remembered most of your fights being about your insecurities and how you always thought that Namjoon deserved better and with him telling you that you were the one for him.

Looking back, you laugh because the two of you were theoretically horrible for each other but exactly what the other needed. Namjoon needed someone free-spirited enough to manage his meticulous tendencies and you needed someone willing to see you for more than your erratic behaviour.

“What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about?” Namjoon hums when he realises you’re not paying attention to him anymore. He clasps your hands together to bring back your attention to him as you look up at him with eyes so full of love.

“Just reminiscing on the old days.” You tell him and he snorts.

“You say that as if we’re ancient.”

“You’re not fooling anyone. I heard your joints cracking when you bent down to pick up the strands of hair on the floor.” You tease.

“And who’s fault is it that I’m constantly bending over to pick up strands of hair because she sheds like a cat?” He retorts playfully.

“We’re both old.” You pout, playing with his fingers and admiring the glimmer of his wedding ring. You can’t believe you bagged a man like Namjoon.

“I still got it, though.” He adds thoughtfully and you raise an eye at his comment.

“Got what?”

“My game.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you burst out laughing because it was so on-brand for Namjoon to make a comment like that but blush when you got a little more touchy-feely with him when he least expected it.

“How about you show me then?” You whisper as you turn around to press yourself against his chest, ensuring that your cleavage was on full show to his line of vision when he looks down at you.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your tits after the pregnancy?” He tells you breathily and you snort.

“So you didn’t like my tits before I gave birth to your child?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches his hands below your thighs to lift you up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. The way he could effortlessly carry you and lift you up always made your heart and nether regions flutter because he was so big that he basically towered over you. Especially when he became a dad it was like his hot factor exploded exponentially. He basically became the epitome of a dilf.

“You and your mouth,” He tsks as he carries you out of the nursery and into your bedroom, “I just may need to shut you up.”

You whine into his chest before he tosses you down onto your mattress as he towers over you, looking over your body like you were the finest piece of art he’s ever seen. Namjoon always had ways to make you feel like a million bucks even though you were in an old camisole and your old college varsity sweatpants.

“Why don’t you do it then?” You tease back.

You were different from the women that Namjoon has been with prior to your seven-year-long relationship as most of them were pliant and quiet, and took whatever he gave to them. Don’t get him wrong, he loved playing the dominant character in bed but he also needed a brat to push his buttons and it was exactly what you were. Even if the two of you were so fundamentally different in personalities, the two of you were definitely sexually compatible.

“Flip over.” He demands and you whine before reluctantly turning over.

“I want to see you.” You whine petulantly.

You feel him rather than have him verbally respond to you because he delivers a tight slap to your ass as you gasp at the impact. He rubs his hands soothingly over your butt cheeks and squeezes them as he leans over your body, crowding your back with his body heat.

“Don’t be a brat ___.” He sneers into your ear and the moan is stuck on your throat when you feel him drag his hands all over your body until it reaches under your body to reach for your tits.

“Fuck. I love your tits.” He groans.

Namjoon’s hands immediately trail down your body until they reach the hem of your shorts and you wiggle your ass back at him teasingly. You hear him growl and you always knew that Namjoon was an ass man and your ass made him weak.

“Need I remind you that you’re in no position to tease, sweetheart?” He whispers into your ear and you feel the goosebumps erupt on the surface of your skin.

“Fuck. Please—Joon, touch me.” You gasp as you feel him pull down your shorts to be greeted with a cheeky pair of panties that left little to imagine of what hides underneath. Your husband had the talent of getting you obscenely wet without doing much and it’s proven again when you feel the uncomfortable ache between your legs as he flips your body over once again to get a good glimpse of your heaving body, as well as the stain on your panties.

His knuckles trace the inner side of your thigh carefully as he avoids the place you need him the most while you feel more wetness pool at your entrance. You’ve been deprived of his touch for way too long and that caused your sensitive reactions to anything that he did. You missed his fingers so much and having him so close yet so far away from your pussy was destroying your restraint.

“Namjoon p-please!” You cry when he finally cups your mound with his large palm.

He digs the heel of his palm straight into your clit as you arch your back and let out a low moan.

“So wet baby and I’ve barely done anything.” He taunts you with the low baritone of his voice.

“You make me so wet Joonie.” You pant when you feel him grind his palm into your clit some more, providing the satisfying friction that you’ve been craving.

The feeling doesn’t last long because he’s hastily removing your panties from your legs and tosses them somewhere over his shoulder. His face is directly in front of your pussy and you can’t help but feel flustered at the proximity of his breath to your hole. You’ve done this a million times before but the familiarity is slightly lost due to the time between the last and the present.

“Where’s the brat that couldn’t shut her mouth before, hm?” He mumbles and you feel every breath against your pussy. You squirm and feel his large hands wrap around your thighs, locking you into position so you wouldn’t be able to move.

“It’s just been so—ah—long,” You tell him breathily.

“Too long. Missed this pussy.” He says as a parting gift before he dives straight into your clit and begins to lap rounds over the hardened bud. You let out a high pitched moan at the pleasure he was providing you with just his tongue alone, and the way that he knew just where to focus on your clit with tense figure-eights.

“Ah—ah, fuck—Joon!” You groan as your hands wrap around his hair to tug at it. You feel him moan against your pussy, which sends vibrations up to your core and causes more wetness to pool at your centre.

Namjoon is relentless when he digs his hands harder into the meat of your thighs to prevent you from moving too much as he continues to suction on your clit, focusing his attention on it as much as he could. After years of being together, he just knew what you loved and this was it.

You liked it messy. Wet and fast, and Namjoon always gave it to you good. He pulls away momentarily so he could look up at you with a hooded gaze and you let out a high pitched whine when you see the glistening of his chin all the way up to his nose with the signs of your wetness staining him. His fingers run up your thighs teasingly and you shift under his ministrations only for him to smack your right thigh harshly.

“If you move you don’t get to cum.” He threatens you and you immediately still your body with the impossible threat.

You feel his fingers run up and down on your slit as he gathers all your wetness into one place, hovering slightly over your clit. You have to keep your whine to a minimum because Namjoon got real mean when he wanted to. But he was a good lover—so good.

Your hole is throbbing with a need to be filled, and your husband picks up on that immediately as he prods your entrance with the tip of his index finger. You attempt to grind down on him as you make eye contact with the dark eyes that threaten to take away your orgasm.

“I said. Don’t. Move.” He reminds you.

You whimper in silence as he teases your hole a little more before he decides to return home into the warmth of your walls. The moment that barrier was broken, you feel him go straight for the hook as he reaches his index finger all the way up until his knuckles. You hear Namjoon hiss under his breath as he begins prodding your walls until he finds—

“Fuck—there, Joon—ah!” You gasp, head tilting backwards when your husband finds your g-spot.

Namjoon smirks to himself and slides another finger in to hook them upwards into your g-spot, unmoving as he stills himself against the area; causing pure, unaltered pleasured to run through your veins. You’re vibrating and twitching all at once because you can’t control the involuntary response that comes with your husband's demon fingers that are causing every possible pleasurable feeling to run through your system.

You can’t keep the moan to yourself either as Namjoon looks at you with awe, but you miss it because your eyes are too busy being rolled to the back of your head at the way Namjoon skilfully thrusts into your pussy.

“H-Harder, p-please Joon—wanna cum so bad.” You moan and run your fingers through his hair to bring his mouth closer to your mound.

He lowly chuckles and shakes his head at your sex drive. And the next thing he does next nearly makes you cum on the spot.

The way he gathers his spit at the back of his throat was borderline pornographic as you see the way his throat revs up. He drops the glob of spit directly onto your clit and uses the hand that wasn’t in your pussy to spread the lubricant all over your slit. He purposefully grazes your clit but doesn’t apply enough pressure to make your head spin, but just enough for you to whine in want.

“Your pussy is so pretty love.” He coos, leaning into your mound to deliver kitten-licks to your clit, and the warmth of his tongue with the added addition of his fingers feels all too much.

“J-Joon!” You gasp when you feel him thrust his fingers rapidly in and out of your pussy that your body hitched up the surface of the bed. Every thrust was accompanied by the direct assault of his tongue on your clit as he presses down on the hardened bud with the purpose to drive you closer to your orgasm.

You were painfully close, and the precision of his fingers at your g-spot allows you to revel in the way the coil in your body is ready to snap, so close to release. Namjoon leans down so that his head is where you love him the most, between your thighs as he scores the final goal and presses his tongue against your clit.

“Oh my god Joon—fuck—s-so good—I’m gonna cum!” Your back arches off the bed uselessly because of the way that Namjoon uses his other hand to pin you down, arms wrapped tightly around your stomach.

“Come for me pretty girl.” He coos against your clit and the vibrations is what sends you over the edge.

He fucks his fingers into you as you orgasm, kitten licking your clit with just enough pressure for you to whine as you buck your hips up into his mouth involuntarily.

“Fuck. Baby—hurts.” You whine, pushing his head away from your pussy when the overstimulation gets to you.

Namjoon places one last teasing peck on your clit, which causes you to twitch and pinch his neck as he chuckles, dragging his hand up your body to bring you closer to him.

“Still got it, hm?” He whispers against the column of your neck as you roll your eyes.

“Just kiss me you fool.” You pull him in for a kiss, and your tongue immediately finds its place home in Namjoon’s mouth.

It’s probably because it’s been so long since the two of you could feel each other like this, without any rush to get it over with but with the freedom to enjoy each other’s bodies as much as you’d like. Namjoon’s hands were the truth of that as he trails his arms down the sides of your waist and tugs you closer to him by your hips until he reaches for the hem of your camisole to tug it off your body.

He grabs the mounds of flesh in his hands and squeezes them hard enough to cause another gush of wetness to drip down the side of your thighs and onto his sweatpants. Besides the fact that he delivered a mind-blowing orgasm to you, the stained wetness of his sweatpants from his pre-cum and your slick is enough for you to push him down onto the bed.

“I’m gonna suck your cock.” You kiss him on the lips one last time before you’re leaning down to palm him over his sweatpants.

He hisses above you and grabs the back of your neck lovingly that it has you snorting.

“You know if you’re laughing at my dick my feelings are going to be very hurt,” Namjoon says from above you.

“It’s just …” You shake your head and giggle as you clench your fist around the outline of Namjoon’s cock as he lets out a low breath of approval at your action.

“You used to shove my head onto your cock the moment I reached your pants and now you’re so soft.” You tease.

You hear his breath hitch and the grip on your neck tighten at your taunting words. The excitement already pooling in your stomach at the roughness that would ensue from your husband.

“Me? Soft? Is that what you want baby?” His tone is warning and you know he’s serious.

You shake your head as you look up at him with innocent eyes, a stark contrast to the hand that continues to fondle his balls over his sweatpants.

“Don’t be a bitch and take my cock out.” He sneers, and you smile to yourself cheekily—knowing you hit a sore spot.

You happily oblige as you pull Namjoon’s sweats down to be greeted with your husbands cock. The visual itself has your pussy throbbing, and every time you’re faced with it, you always burn with the prospect of his thick cock pounding into your pussy.

“Now suck it like a good girl.” He guides your head towards his dick but you’re proactive enough to fully start licking at his tip, tongue teasing his slit as you hear him let out a low groan.

Your eyes are locked on his figure, as his head is thrown back. You want to grind on the sheets but you know that would delay him fucking you so you decide against it. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t appreciate the visual that your husband was giving you from where you were.

Namjoon had always been handsome. But there’s something about seeing him throw his head back in pleasure because of you that has your stomach churning with pride. You’d shamelessly admit that you were more on the possessive side, purely because you knew there were many men and women out there who desired Namjoon in more ways than one; and you didn’t like sharing one bit.

You spit onto his dick as your hands worked the rest of the length that you didn’t engulf in your mouth as you hollowed your cheeks to create a suction. Your tongue begins to tease the underside of his shaft, the way he likes the most and you know he’s enjoying your focus there because the hand that grips your neck is now tightly clutching your hair in a fist.

“Fuck. That’s it, baby.” He groans.

Motivated by the praise, you sink deeper, hands resting on his thick thighs as you push yourself until your nose reaches his pelvis. You’ve taken his cock like a champion on many occasions, and you can only thank him for that like the numerous times he had to guide you down on his cock were probably the only reason why your tiny throat could welcome his thick girth.

The sounds of you chocking on his dick was a lot for Namjoon, mainly because he couldn’t get enough of his wife but also because he’s been waiting out to bust a nut down your throat—actually your pussy—so long that he can’t handle the onslaught of pleasure your mouth brings him.

“Baby—baby,” He tugs you off his cock and the redness around your cheeks with the tears that pool at your waterline is enough to make his heart soar. Even though you were nasty in bed, he loved every single part of your forwardness.

“Your mouth is amazing but I need to cum in your pussy.” He tells you.

You whine at his declaration and allow him to manhandle you until you were face down ass up, ass pressed tightly against his pelvis as you grind your wet cunt over the hardness of his dick.

“Fuck—you’re so wet, baby. You like sucking my cock?” He growls, arms reaching around your stomach to pull your body flush against his chest.

When you reach your hand to wrap around his head to balance yourself, you see a view of your bodies together in your mirror. Courtesy of when you first moved in and due to you and Namjoon’s egocentric tendencies of wanting to see you guys fucking each other.

“S-So much Joon.” You garble.

His hand reach down to cup your mound and digs his palm into your clit as you grind down against his hand. You feel him loosely trace over your clit to gather your wetness into his hand to lather it over his dick.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He whispers in your ear when he lines his cock against your entrance.

You whine, excitement erupting inside of you—until he finally slides it.

It definitely takes you by surprise because your husband was big. And the fact that you haven’t had his dick in you for months made it much more of a pleasant surprise when he bottoms out completely in one swift thrust of his hips, which causes your body to fall forward as your hands grip the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck. This tight pussy’s mine, right?” He growls.

You nod your head into the sheets as he begins with a few experimental thrusts as you adjust to the slight, yet pleasurable, sting in your lower half.

Until you squeeze his hand on your hip to give him the go, Namjoon settles for slow thrusts into your pussy, but it’s enough to prod at your pleasurable spot because not only is Namjoon smart, kind, funny, handsome and ridiculously a great father—he is phenomenal at sex. Probably why he knocked you up on the night of your honeymoon with your bundle of joy.

Namjoon begins snapping his hips into yours relentlessly like a man starved, and starved he was. He’s missed the wet heat of your pussy; and God did he love your daughter—but he missed this—your pussy.

“F-Fuuuuu—” You’re heaving.

Namjoon continues to thrust into your pussy, angling his hips upwards so that he’d reach places deeper than ever as your eyes roll to the back of your heart in pleasure.

“Fuck—this—tight—pussy—” His words follow the sharpness of his thrusts and you don’t even know where to grab because all your sensations are heightened, especially when Namjoon reaches a hand down to your clit to begin rubbing it vigorously.

“Nam—Joon!”

You’re so wet that the squelch of his thrusts is echoed in your bedroom, and the only thing you hear besides that is your loud moans and the heavy breathing coming from Namjoon.

It’s only when he plants his knees firmly into the mattress and brings your hips to meet his thrusts is when you feel your pussy clench uncontrollably around his cock as you wail out his name.

“Fuck, baby—you’re clenching—so—hard.” He groans, pushing his hips deeper into your pussy.

“Love your cock,” You moan, “Fuck—Joon, please—fuck your cum into me.”

“Yeah?” He grits his teeth and flips your over effortlessly, dragging your leg over his shoulder as he begins pounding into you even harder as he admires the way your face contorts in pleasure.

“Yeah.” You nod your head like a sex-crazed maniac because your husband was just too good with his hips.

“Gonna give you another baby.” He whispers when he leans down into your face as your eyes widen at his declaration. Your pussy reacts too, gushing out even more wetness as it becomes tighter around Namjoon’s cock.

“Fuck. You like that idea? A sibling for Chan’?” He grinds his pelvis into your clit as his words spur your second orgasm for the night on.

“No shit?” You gasp when he revs up his spit in the back of his throat, looking at your mouth invitingly.

“Yeah,” He says breathlessly, and you open your mouth to welcome his tongue when he drops the glob of spit down your throat.

You whine, feeling your orgasm coming so closely.

“Fuck Joon—I’m gonna cum.” You gasp.

You feel Namjoon’s hips stutter and you know he’s coming soon too.

“Me too baby.” He tells you while giving you the set of most adoring eyes ever. Even as he’s fucking you into the next dimension, Namjoon makes you feel so utterly loved and whole that you can’t imagine spending the rest of your life with anyone else.

He snaps his hips the hardest he’s ever done throughout the entire night, and you feel your pussy throb so much; signalling to you and Namjoon that your release was right there.

“Baby—I’m gonna—I’m gonna c-cum,” You grab onto his shoulder to pull him closer to you.

He welcomes it and leaves open mouth kisses onto your mouth as he fucks into you like a mad man.

“Cum.”

That’s all it takes for you to reach an explosive orgasm, one that quite literally causes you to blank out for a second because while Namjoon’s hot cum spurts into your pussy short after you came, he feels your body go limp in his embrace; causing his eyes to widen.

Only until you’re blinking up at him dazedly is when he holds you to his chest, as you feel his chest rumble when he chuckles.

“Baby … I thought you died.” He cards a hand through your hair and you smile at him, stupidly in love.

“If I die because of your dick I’d be happy.” You grin at him cutely. And he scoffs at the way you look so cute after you’ve been fucked to hell and back.

“My horny little monster,” He flicks your forehead as you bring him close to your chest, his dick still settled inside of you. But there was a sort of intimacy that you couldn’t quite put words to, but welcomed the gesture nevertheless.

“Were you serious?” You ask after a while of sharing a few intimate pecks to each others’ lips.

He finally pulls out to roll on his side as he reaches over to pull your close to his chest. He raises an eyebrow at your expression when you feel his cum leak out of you.

“God you really didn’t jack off recently, did you?” You ask.

He pecks you on the nose as he quickly tugs clean boxers over his legs and disappears into your on-suite. You sigh to yourself dreamily, thinking of how lucky you were to be with someone as loving and compassionate as Namjoon was.

You weren’t necessarily unlucky when it came to your relationships prior to him, but there would always be dealbreakers that caused splits to be more bitter than neutral. Namjoon was the only man in your life that you could speak to without fearing any judgement from because he wasn’t like that. He knew how to make you feel wanted and also how to want yourself, all while being your best friend and partner.

When he returns, he returns with a damp cloth and immediately begins cleaning up the mess between your thighs, even as he cheekily mentions how there was more from where that came from as you slap him on the shoulder.

Once he ensures he’s satisfied, he tosses the cloth into the laundry basket and grabs a big t-shirt of his to slip it over your body. You hum in satisfaction as his scent overwhelms you, even more so when he tugs you close to his body and he looks at you with all the love in the world.

“You asked if I was serious earlier?” He repeats your question and you nod your head looking up at him.

“Yeah.” You let out a breathy smile when he leans down to pull your face towards his own as you admire all the freckles and pores on his skin, fingers tracing loosely over the wrinkles that come with age.

“I know it’s sudden but … I’ve been thinking about our family and—I want our family to become bigger.” He tells you like it’s a secret. You know he’s been mulling over it for quite a while because he looks a little unsure of himself, but all you can do is smile widely at him.

“Really?” You ask, playing with the hair on the back of his neck when you feel his fingers trace over the skin on your back.

“Of course. I love you, and I love Chanmi. I’ve always wanted kids and you brought the best gift in my life to me and … I can’t explain how happy I am when I’m with the two of you.” He smiles at you gently.

You don’t know if it’s because he just fucked you so good, or was it because you were lovesick, but your eyes water because Namjoon was Namjoon.

“But—if you’re not ready then I understand and we can—”

“Yes.” You interrupt him.

His eyes widen as you see the excitement begin to pour into his irises.

“Wait—really?” He asks innocently.

You nod your head and kiss him on the lips softly, no rush as he returns the gesture, holding you close onto his chest where you feel the best in his arms.

“Yes really. I want what you want. And I think it’s about time Chanmi gets a sibling, no?” You tease.

He groans like you’re unreal as he buries his head into the crook of your neck as you caress him gently. Namjoon was really just like an oversized baby and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“When?” He asks.

You tease your fingertips down to his chest and offer him a knowing look.

“Now?” You feign indifference but you can see the wide grin he sports on his face.

“Fuck. Don’t say that. I think my dick is going to fall off at how hard I fucked you just now,” He whined.

“You’re getting old,” You massage his shoulders as he sighs.

“I am …” He acknowledges, “But we’ll grow old together, right?”

The prospect of a future of unknowns with Namjoon only makes your heart bloom. You nod your head, not another word need to be uttered as he holds you in his arms, excited for what’s to come.

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liesoverthec · 3 years

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OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

#911 fox #911 canon character details #athena grant #bobby nash #chimney han #hen wilson #maddie buckley #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bathena #madney #henren #buddie #userac #hey yall if anyone else wants to be added to these tags let me know #im happy to do so #I feel like I have v little for Bobby here sorry :/#I’ll work on getting lots for him next time

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jjkpls · 3 years

Text

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x @kai-kai-bookshelf @somewhereinthestarss @hsinmyheart @moonchild1 @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie @fangirls94 @jinsalpaca @ggukkieland

#btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #my writing

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