#also also I fucking hate my teeth and jaw line and they’re so ground down that my jaw is fucked up and so recessed and short

[bucknastysbabe]

Criston being Alicent and Viserys daughters sworn sheild and because hes unhealthily obsessed and she has whole family issues shes into it and they make plans to run away to essos before the war breaks out

The Gray Area - Ser Criston x Reader

Yes! YESSSSSS! ORANGES also I’m taking some serious civil liberties apologizes very much, also mayhaps reusing a character oops but they’re obsessive and crazy and I felt like it fit the dynamic

Prequel: Just like you

Rating: Explicit

Tags: So many emotionsssss, rough sex, aggressive verbal arguments, guilt and shame that comes with being a Targ, Criston questions his life, pnv!sex, oral, THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER IN ESSOS THE END OKAY SOMETIME YOU GOTTA CUT OFF THE TOXICITY, she finally comes to terms w emotions

Inside the eerie melted castle, Criston slammed his hand down on the table in your shared quarters where you’d draw up plans. The brunette hissed, “We need to march south! The blacks have probably befouled the waters and Aemond is flying around charring the place! With that hoary bitch of his!”

You picked your teeth, staring at him blankly, armor off for the evening. Your dragon was feasting on bodies outside in the pits. “Then why don’t we just march south anyways? I’m of age with Aemond, we don’t have a fucking king per-say anyways.”

Criston leveled you with those dark eyes, “Aemond and Daeron are still in line.” You spat at him, “One-eye whose burning half the realm and Daeron, while valiant, a child. What the fuck are we even fighting for? Our heads on spikes?”

He exhaled through his nose, jaw twitching and clicking. Criston’s hair had grown out, even had some grays in it now, crinkling around his handsome eyes. You rolled onto your side, exposing your pale and scarred body. The knight’s eyes lingered upon your perky teats, hands digging into the table.

You hummed, “If we go south tomorrow, without the aid of Vhagar and just me on Skysinger, what’s our chances? They have the rivermen, that Crazed Blackwood. Winter’s Wolves. We’d meet them at a ridge,” she glared, “You always told me to find the high ground. Which would only be me.”

Criston stripped off his plated armor in jerky motions, face wrought with something. You turned onto your back, staring at the black ceiling. “I find that this ‘dance’ they have so deemed is destroying the realm. Over whether a vengeful cunt or wet rat should hold the throne. What’s the godsdamn point?”

He barked, “Honor! This is your family! We fight for who we are sworn to! What has gotten into you?”

“Oh fuck you and your honor Ser! Your cape should be black by now, you can’t pick and choose what constitutes honorable behavior! Fighting to your demise, so honorable, fucking Targaryen cunt you’re not allowed to sully is allowed though! You don’t even know what you want! Putting a drunk on the throne and if not him then my lovely brother who has knocked up a Strong bastard, which started half of this bullshit in the first place!”

Criston’s body slammed atop of you, pinning your skinny wrists to the rickety bed. He glared you down, spittle hitting your face as he seethed, “Do you ever shut your fucking mouth? Hateful, selfish wench.”

You heaved underneath him, thoroughly pinned, half expecting to get a bloody nose. But Criston just stared, nostrils flaring. In the softest tone your raspy voice could muster you asked, “Do you remember after Helaena died?”

He paused, deep pools of brown flickering away.

“Deep in your cups,” you nosed along his stubbled jaw, “You told me one time you thought of running away. Go to Essos and make a living. Away from my family’s shite. But she said no, made you the fool for it.”

Criston relaxed some, slotting himself between your skinny thighs, face melting into your neck. “I don’t want to die tomorrow. Not like this,” you said, voice horridly cracking. “They’ll rain arrows down on my child, I won’t have Vhagar as backup.” Criston’s jaw gritted against your thin skin, hands loosening your wrists to glide down your flat waist.

“I- would die by your side. With honor, for once,” Cole murmured. Wetness gathered at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You rubbed a hand down his wide back, feeling numb. Gods you hated crying. Hated it with your whole being. This war was driving you slowly insane.

You reiterated like a idiotic mummer, “Criston. Please don’t make us march tomorrow. We could hold down Harrenhal and wait out a siege. Or we leave tonight. On my dragon, go to Essos, start a mercenary company. How many of them have a dragon hm? There’s no honor in this war. It’s kinslaying.”

Tears leaked down your cheeks, chest involuntarily heaving. The Dornish knight leaned up, eyes red as he studied you. You pushed back his thick hair, unable to conjure any more words. What you wanted was out in the open now. He murmured, “Stop your tears, I raised my Princess better than that.”

He wiped them away with a calloused thumb, eyes soft. You wrapped your legs around him, arching into his tight body, rubbing against his swelling member. You growled, “If you’re leading me to my death then might as well have a good last fuck.” Your lover flipped you over roughly, big hand pinning your nape down to the bed. He slapped your ass, grunting, “You Targaryen whores are all the same. Fucking selfish.”

He thumbed your wet cunt, pinching roughly at your swollen clit. You cried out, unable to move as he seized your long limbs again, one big hand holding them tight. Criston aligned with your sex, thrusting in with a wet slap. He groaned, you knew the face by heart now, lips lax, eyes rolling up. Gorgeous.

Meanwhile his girth split you open easily, nudging up against your cervix, stretching out your ridged insides. He never took his time to get you acclimated, fucking into you rough and quick, hips slapping together. You cried out, tits rubbing against the tough fabric of the bed. Your hair fell in your face, swinging everywhere.

Criston rumbled, “You run. I die a warriors death. If I saw you dead I wouldn’t go on, fucking crone’s teats.”

“Come with me, I cannot live without you, you die a warriors death with a pocketful of gold, a manse, orange fields, and living life on- fuck- oh Criston baby- on your own terms!”

His hips stuttered, a hand sliding to your sternum to pull you upright, biting and licking at your neck, cock still hammering away. Desperately you cried, “My sworn shield, my knight, lord hand, I love you.” The brunette’s hips stuttered at your admission, big hand taking you passionately into a kiss. Your lips slid against eachother, teeth clinking until his tongue claimed authority over your own.

You rocked back onto his cock, growling, “I love you I love you I love you, run away with me, fuck all of this, what have they done for us? It’s always been us Criston, the puppets! We make the rules!”

Criston bit down on your lip, drawing blood while his thick fingers plucked at a budded nipple. You oozed around him, lost in fantasy and that sickening feeling of love. Your knight moaned, “We leave tonight, land outside of Norvos or Lorath, stay away from the Triarch. We cannot return.” He half-whimpered after a ragged breath, “I love you, more than anything I’ve ever known. Enough to send me to the seven hells a happy man.”

His left hand slid from your tit to bruisingly gripping your throat, squeezing those vessels until you saw spots, bucking on his prick like a wild foal. You wheezed his name over and over, until he let go, you convulsing and sloppily wetting his cock with another desperate declaration of love.

He pulled out with a broken cry, splattering your ass and thighs with hot seed. Criston immediately pulled you into his strong arms again, dark eyes dead serious. He hissed, “We leave. We don’t come back. There’s no more honor except in gold.”

You nodded, eyes watering from everything happening so fast. “We leave tonight. Aemond’s their leader. No honor except in gold.”

Aemond Targaryen had just settled Vhagar outside of Harrenhal, coming to lay with his lady Alys. He’d been burning all day, the stench of it soaking his essence. Curling into her arms he missed his twin’s familiar dragon taking off into the night, a dirtied white cloak flying in the wind.

It wasn’t easy the first few months. The pair of you constantly wondering if you made the right decision. Mourning over your family. Westeros in ruins kept you both away. The grief was tucked away and put forward into starting your company. A Westerosi Knight and Targaryen dragonrider garnered much attention on the other continent.

You’d found it tedious and boring at first, Criston calming your moods with fucking you stupid or eating your cunt until you’d about ripped his hair out. Eventually you’d struck a deal with a Qohorik nobleman who needed his caravan’s to be protected. Simple work.

That turned into bigger and bigger projects, Westerosi exiles even coming to join your company. You’d eventually named it The Honorable Company, as a jab to your not so well-intentioned beginnings. Tyrosh, Volantis, even some Ghiscari had hired your swelling ranks. Skysinger had grown bigger and more vicious, hatching a clutch at her preferred nest still outside of Qohor, where your manse would be built.

No letters ever came from your family, just hearsay on a regency. It hurt too bad to dwell on it. But the dance should have never occurred and you and Criston alike made sure to honor them in a quiet sept downstairs. Your company had grown big enough that there were levels and ranks now.

Then you fell pregnant. You would name him Aemond, after that stiff lipped asshole you dearly loved, as did Criston. The grayish egg in his cradle hatched, Criston smiling in ecstasy. You felt one of those annoying tears fall down your face.

“Do you think I’ll be a good woman like Alicent? A mother regardless of how fucking insane we all were?”

Criston’s face drew grim and he wrapped his arms around your figure, murmuring into your jeweled ear, “I think so. Might need to loosen these shoulders a bit. You’ll be great.” You kissed those pretty lips and cried, full on cried. Finally broken down from the hatred, guilt, fury, and shame. Then like a phoenix you’d arise anew, softer and ready for the world. As a mother and wife. Also dragonrider with a penchant for murder. But hey, that’s what Targaryen’s did.

The little dragon curled around Aemond’s babbling frame, snoozing already. You smiled, Criston behind you.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #criston x reader #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole #my shnookums incel knight

[unohanadaydreams]

As the name suggests, I'm always thirsty for the Big Guy 😉 I wonder how Kenpachi would react if Ikkaku found a piece of your lingerie in the barracks, but no one knew about your relationship?

The idea of Kenpachi being viewed as sus for fucking a 4th member fuels me so ofc. This got out of hand but I fully blame the energy IkkaYumi brings to anything ever and not myself. Thank you for understanding.

Features: smut (18+) at the mid-point, IkkaYumi being real <3 for the majority of it, and sub!Kenpachi (☆ω☆), also idk maybe some minor angst but like made Seggsy.

Kenpachi Zaraki x f!reader (and IkkaYumi...mostly them tbh.)

Ikkaku slapped the door open with loudest ‘OI’ he could muster. The paper of the door ripped somewhere along the way as it slid open, the wooden frame wobbling as he stepped into the room.

Despite the noise, Yumichika’s hand stayed steadfast as he finished smudging eye shadow on his outer lid. Another ‘OI’ sounded, but no hand shook him or foot kicked at him while Yumichika held a brush to his eye.

Glacial, he finished blending the color until he was satisfied--rinsed the brush--set it to dry. Through the mirror in front of him, Yumichika looked to Ikkaku’s reflection only after admiring his own.

The lacy scrap of undies in Ikkaku’s hand lifted Yumichika’s brow.

“I thought you hated when I wore those,” he said with a sniff, turning to get a better look.

Ikkaku rubbed at his bald head, “yah think that because I do.”

Yumichika gestured for the undies and Ikkaku threw them. “And yet?”

“Yet, I found ‘em anyway!” Ikkaku fell into a wide squat, his hands fisting into the fabric of his uniform over his knees. “In the captain’s office.”

They stared at one another, both settling deeper into their feelings.

“Ikkaku, you must be joking,” Yumichika said, holding the undies against his arm. “This color makes me look positively jaundiced.”

“You think captain gives a shit about color theory?”

Yumichika threw the lacy bit of bullshit at Ikkaku’s face. Smiling when they landed on his dumb, shiny head. “He won’t even let me do his hair, Ikkaku. Your delusion is exhausting me.”

“Then--”

“Yes, Ikkaku. Then, they’re not mine. And they’re someone else’s.”

Ikkaku pulled the undies from his head, squinting at them. “Huh.”

Rising with a flourish, Yumichika let the sleeves of his robe billow behind him as he went for the cabinet to rummage for sake. Possibly a new boyfriend.

He came back after a few gulps, offering Ikkaku the bottle only after giving him a sound kick to the head that sent the man flopping to the side.

“Hey!” Ikkaku steadied himself with one hand and rubbed where he’d been kicked with the other...undies still in hand. “Ya can’t blame me. No one else around here would wear that shit.”

Yumichika gave a flat look. Took another gulp of sake. Sighed heavily as he sank to Ikkaku’s level.

“Which means they belong to someone who would,” Yumichika offered along with the sake. “Someone from a different division.”

“Must be serious,” Ikkaku said, sake dribbling down his chin. “Never found anything in his office...ever.”

Yumichika kissed at the trail of sake and took the bottle back once he’d settled into Ikkaku’s lap. “That means whoever it is will be back. And now we know what to look for.”

Ikkaku grunted, shoving his tongue in Yumichika’s mouth before the man in his lap could swallow his sake, not pulling away until he’d swiped as much alcohol with his tongue as he could.

“That shit ain’t good enough for you, anyway.”

“I know,” Yumichika said softly, tone at odds with him rising to stand, heading for the door.

“O--” A raised hand stalled Ikkaku from pointing to his tightened hamaka.

“Fix my door first, dumbass.”

@

Ikkaku lowered from his tip-toes, a man afflicted. “No way.”

“I told you,” Yumichika said in a hiss. “Not just from 4th division, but a pencil pusher.”

You looked like the kind who’d scramble to bring an 11th division soldier any impossible request they bullied you for. The quintessential mouse every self-respecting soldier was inclined to paw at.

“Don’t look so fucking smug, Yumi,” Ikkaku grumbled, peeling off the wall and pulling Yumichika back towards the training grounds by the back of the puffed-up peacock’s uniform, right at the lower back. Yumichika had just gotten his fifth pay-back punch in when they hit the gate that separated captain’s estate from training ground.

Theirs might have been the only captain so enamored with battle that he’d moved his quarters as close as the captain general would allow. If it weren’t for the bullshit ‘housing codes and regulations’, Ikkaku was sure the house would’ve been on top of the large rectangle of packed dirt that served as the largest training ground in the entire division. 

Once they’d hopped the low wall, more meant to keep Zaraki’s house away from the grounds than to keep his underlings on the grounds away from him, Yumichika fell on the nearest bench to fix his uniform.

“Well now what?” Ikkaku rubbed at his side, knowing he was going to need to stretch soon or the tight knot Yumichika had punched into his side or even a night drowned in sake wouldn’t numb it when he collapsed in his futon.

Yumichika didn’t look up from retying his stiff, decorative obi but his face softened, “Now that we’ve been successfully nosy? I was thinking that new, chic sushi bar near the 1st. The one where all the wait-staff look just as yummy.”

“No I, mean--yeah, we’re definitely going,” Ikkaku said, his previous thought tripping over the vision of pretty smiles from androgynous beauties. “But, what do we do about the captain?”

“Well, I’m not going to say anything, but I also have tact. And grace,” Yumichika shrugged, fluffing the bow of obi.

Ikkaku kicked dirt and tensed forward at the shoulders, like he planned to lunge and attack. “I ain’t no fucking snitch and you know it. Don’tcha?”

Sliding forward, Yumichika massaged at Ikkaku’s tense shoulders, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t saying you would. Just that you’re tactless. And might on accident--which makes you an idiot, not a snitch.”

“Damn right,” Ikkaku grunted, anything but Yumichika’s agreement sliding off his bald head like water. “Wouldn’t snitch for anything. But what if someone else finds out? Like a captain or something. We can’t kill one of them and--”

“Oh, stop worrying about it,” Yumichika said, interrupting and pulling at Ikkaku’s arm--he was hungry, both for refined food and beauties. “No one who wants to live will chance Kenpachi asking for a fight. Or that Captain Unohana; she seems vicious in a way more of our men should be. Such grace.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” Ikkaku nodded, letting himself be dragged off for sushi, sake, and sublime wait-staff. Still, there was morale to think about. No hardened warrior of the rukongai wanted to hear their fearless leader had a weakness for...the weak.

There had to be something more to it but Ikkaku wasn’t going to dig more into his captain’s business. He was more than happy to put the shovel down and follow Yumichika, even as the truth sat uncomfortably at the base of his skull.

@

You were weak in all the ways shinigami measured such things--swordsmanship, spiritual pressure, and kido were subjects you studied more than you practiced, let alone pulled off. But you had enough power to pass school and be sorted into the 4th division ranks, where you excelled.

An aptitude for medical procedure, surgery, and technology was what garnered you not just safety, but respect among your peers.

As for the other divisions? Well, you had some friends in 12th who fully understood your position.

Kenpachi Zaraki? Certainly wasn’t someone who could relate to you.

But, that was fine.

You preferred your men muzzled, anyway.

“Too bad, Cap--tain,” you breathed, stretching his title with your tongue playfully. “I was hoping they’d find out everything.”

Pulling yourself up, one fist over the other, by the leather leash tied taunt around Kenpachi’s neck, you delighted in seeing the muscles there strain to accommodate your weight and the need for breath at the same time.

You pressed your lips against his ear after admiring the rough line of his mouth being forcibly split open by a ball gang, pretty, pink, and yours. “Can’t you go faster?”

His answering grunt was followed by his body pressing into yours quick enough turn your teasing into moans. That’s what you liked most about Kenpachi; he was always striving to be better and exceeding expectation.

it would be effortless for him to put his hands on you without permission or rip out the ball gag, but he didn’t. Even when you met in a grimy bar close to the 11th, too drunk to realize who’s thigh you were toying with, his attention to what you wanted was surprising.

You panted, toes curling as he hit that lovely spot only he ever had, “H-hands on hips.”

So eager, he kneaded from the tops of your thighs to your hips like dough, obviously glad to be rewarded. You were eager too--for the angle. Your hips tilted upward gave him more depth and your fingers tightened on his leash.

There was no need to command for more, because he was giving you his all. And he kept going until your scattered breathing paired with the tight heat he was pounding into you snapped all at once, so intense that your eyes watered.

While you basked in the trembling after shocks, catching your breath, Kenpachi went still.

Until you said, “Sit on floor.”

The bed creaked and rose as he left it, leaving you to collect yourself in peace. When you rose to sit, he was kneeling on the floor, his cock hard and bobbing above his thighs.

You walked to him slow, nails scratching through his rough, black hair as you circled behind him. “Such good work,” you praised, “Just like always.”

Trailing down to the buckle, your fingers made quick of his ball gag, parting it from his teeth gently, and tossing it on the bed.

“What do you want me to reward you with, Kenpachi?” You asked him, only once you’d come to face him, your hand urging his jaw up, his eyes on yours.

“To get off,” he said, shameless.

You hummed, “then do it.”

Frowning, Kenpachi leaned his face into your touch. “I want you to.....please.”

The word ‘please’ was said slow, his eyes leaving yours several times before he said it. You wondered how many people Kenpachi Zaraki had ever asked, for anything. Let alone, with manners.

You kissed his nose, finding the almost demure behavior cute, “Then I will. Lay down.”

He did, his arms behind his head, like he napping under a tree instead of waiting for your hands to give his weeping cock relief.

You took your time, teasing him with sensation by spitting into your hand and giving him light rubs, again and again until his hips lifted off the ground.

The lacy bit of pink undies that stretched tight over his thighs, were yours too. And you peeled them off, throwing them toward the ball gag as his breathing grew heavy in the air.

Perhaps you deserved less teasing, but you couldn’t resist dragging out the fun a touch more, one hand fondling his tightening balls while the other scratched lightly at his inner thighs.

His breathing was catching on groans and audible ‘ah’s that had you biting your lip. Thigh’s clenching, you finally began circling the tip of his cock. Soon, you were giving him his first pump, slick hand trailing his length from tip to base in smooth, steady motions.

Straddling his thighs, you took advantage of the position and put both your hands to work, gripping him harder but keeping the same pace.

“Look how hard you are,” you cooed, hands pausing as your thumb circled the slit topping the bulbous head of his cock. “Do you want to cum for me?”

His, “yes,” was immediately pushed from his heaving chest. You hummed, so tempted to climb on top of him fully. But, that would be a kind of weakness you didn’t allow yourself.

Kenpachi’s lone eye struggled to stay open as you lowered your lips to kiss the tip of him. You rose back up and licked them as he watched, his pre-cum salty as it settled on your tongue.

You couldn’t call him unraveling under your firm, fast touch seeing him at his weakest. But, you were certain it was a kind of vulnerable he seldom experienced. Even his arms had come from behind his head, his fingers flexing around air while he struggled to keep them away from you. His hips began bucking with such strength that you were forced to tighten your thighs around his to keep your place.

Desperate, is what he was. For you to give him what he worked for.

And, you did.

His cock pulsed as you wrung his orgasm out, thick ropes of cum falling over his sweaty stomach and dripping down your hands. His moan was loud, deep, and reverberated through out the room like a cry of victory.

You kept stroking him until he was completely spent, until he made a sound almost like a whine.

“I need--”

He sat up, setting you on the floor before padding to the bathroom, and coming back with a damp cloth. “Here.”

“Thank you,” you said, keeping your eyes on your hands as you willed yourself to calm down. His orgasm had made you want him again, badly. But you had things to do. He had things to do.

What you had with Kenpachi was strange and tenuous. And your smug confidence drained a bit as you cleaned yourself and him, until you were almost unsure.

What now? You’d never even seen his house before this. Always in more public places, where you parted almost immediately after playing with him.

“You want these back,” he asked, lifting the ball gag and undies in one hand while pulling back the blankets on the bed with the other. The leash was already on the bedside table, his neck angrily red still.

If you took them, you wondered if it was all over. “No, you should. They’re easy enough to clean.”

“...You sure?”

You nodded, not so attached to a couple cheap props that you’d be wounded if something happened to them. “They’re all yours.”

Shrugging after a moment of silence, he gestured with his head to the bed, “unless you wanna take a shower first.”

“I’m fine for now,” you responded, climbing under the blanket, more confused than obedient. “Are you tired?”

“Enough to sleep.”

The bed dipped from his bulk, forcing you closer. He tossed an arm around you, so you could get comfortable against his side. You lay your head on his chest, eyes still open, listening to him breathe.

At first, you’d thought maybe it was all a joke. That Kenpachi Zaraki was trying to trap you into....something, like those men who feigned nice before using all their muscle to force you to bend as they wanted. To teach you a lesson for trying to dominate him.

You didn’t delude yourself into thinking you had real, tangible power of him or any man you’d toyed with, after all. Just something momentary, like a brief understanding.

But you felt less cautious as your eyes drooped shut and your thoughts circled around his intentions. He always approached you and asked, vague and gruff, ‘here good?’ And you’d find a closet or office or twisty alley that would do.

This time, you asked him. And he took you to his bedroom, compliant as ever, waiting for you to sprinkle nice words in his ear, for you to give him pleasure for being his best.

Drifting off to the rise and fall of his chest, you wondered if things like that meant so much to him.

#this is very lightly edited bc im so short on time lately #but this was fun #kenpachi zaraki smut #kenpachi zaraki x reader #kenpachi zaraki #bleach sm #bleach imagines #bleach scenario #zaraki-oriented #kenpachi: i like being praised and having someone acknowledge me #reader: wait....is this....kind of depressing and not just kinky? #but fr i just think dommed kenpachi is hot and i can not resist sprinkling crumbs of angst

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Two of Three)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 4,065

Notes: Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

‘Oh my god…he asked me on a date’ was all you heard from outside the guestroom when you got changed into your clothes.

‘Who? Jeremy?’ you asked, poking your head into the hallway at the same time Cillian did while Denise was jumping up and down in excitement like a young schoolgirl. She had been interested in Jeremy for about six months and, finally, things began to develop.

‘Yes Jeremy. He wants to go to the movies tonight but I told him that you are visiting so…’ Denise said with excitement, causing Cillian to roll his eyes while you cheered her on with excitement.

‘You should still go. I will be fine here on my own’ you said while Cillian shook his head in disapproval.

‘No, you shouldn’t’ he then joked and Denise sighed immediately.

‘Dad, stop listening to our conversations, please…’ Denise said, but Cillian simply began to laugh and told her to enjoy herself and be safe.

After all, Denise was almost 22 and he couldn’t really control what she was doing. Nonetheless, he was concerned and reminded her to call him or her brother in case she runs into trouble.

‘Do you think I should?’ Denise asked and you, of course, reassured her that it was fine. She should cease this opportunity to get to know him better and you decided to spend the day at the local mall to buy her an outfit for the occasion.

***

After the outfit had been sorted, you dragged your friend to the lingerie store which is where you decided to treat yourself to some sexy underwear as well.

‘What do you think?’ you asked, featuring a black lacey lingerie set with matching suspenders.

‘Whoa Y/N, that’s hot. You should get it for, you know, whenever you might get the chance to wear it’ Denise teased before asking you again about one of the guys at your university in whom you were interested in.

‘He is married, so I am not stupid enough to pursue it’ you explained, causing Denise to cringe.

‘Jesus, how old is he?’ she asked, but you weren’t so sure.

‘Late thirties, I think. I am not sure. He works as a lecturer in a different department’ you explained and Denise couldn’t help but shake her head and tell you to look at men around your own age.

The truth was, men your age didn’t interest you. You had been with two men before, both in their early twenties and neither of them were able to satisfy you.

***

Later that evening, after your friend Denise had left the house in order to attend her date with Jeremy, you took the time to talk to her father Cillian in the living room.

‘She's been talking about this Jeremy for a while. I think they're a thing but she won't tell me’ Cillian shrugged with a slight chuckle, hoping that you would reveal more to him.

‘Listen, I am Denise’s friend, I am not going to tell you anything she doesn’t want me to tell you’ you laughed, knowing exactly what he was doing, using his charm to source information.

‘That’s fair…it was worth a try though, right?’ Cillian chuckled and you nodded with a smile.

‘Absolutely’ you grinned awkwardly in response, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Well, I think you are being a very thoughtful friend for not crashing her date’ he then chuckled and, just as he did, Denise’s brother barged out of the front door with a loud ‘see ya’.

‘Uhm, yes…Looks like it’s just us huh?’ you said somewhat nervously and Cillian nodded reluctantly while you looked at his lips and back up to his eyes and then back down.

The way you looked at him threw Cillian off and he began to stammer when responding to your observation.

‘Yes, uhm listen, just make yourself feel at home. I am going to…’ Cillian said but, just before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘Cillian’ you said somewhat abruptly after you licked your lips, which is when you realised that he was going to say something else.

‘Yes Y/N?’ he inhaled, closing his eyes as he turned his head to the side. It took every muscle in his body to keep a safe distance from you.

‘No sorry…you were saying something…go on’ you stammered.

‘No, it’s alright, you first’ he responded and, just as he did, you grabbed Cillian’s hand which was clenched in frustration at his side and his eyes jolted open and his attention snapped back to you just as he had worked up the ability to turn away.

‘I wasn’t being a thoughtful friend for not crashing Denise’s date. In fact, I was being selfish’ you explained as you closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around the back of Cillian’s neck.

‘Selfish in what way?’ he asked and, just as he did, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips onto his, catching him by surprise.

‘Y/N, I don’t think that is a good idea’ Cillian said, immediately breaking the kiss and stepping away from you.

‘I am twice your age Y/N. I could be your father for god’s sake’ he then huffed out but, despite his words of discouragement, what had developed in between his legs was rather encouraging.

‘I know and I am fairly sure that I am not the only twenty something year old out there who is attracted to you’ you chuckled before continuing on. ‘But, if you aren’t attracted to me then that’s totally fine and I am sorry for having crossed a line’ you said, biting your lip nervously as you began to unbutton your summer dress, slowly revealing the lingerie you had bought earlier that day.

‘Let me get this straight Y/N. You stayed here to seduce me?’ Cillian gulped while watching you undress eagerly.

‘Yes, pretty much’ you chuckled. ‘I’ve been fantasising about this for years’ you told him before you pulled him closer by his neck.

‘I want you to sleep with me’ you whispered, running your hand over his crotch and it was becoming way too difficult for Cillian to control himself.  

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian sighed as his hands automatically fanned out over your hips and melded them together at the core. Your stomachs pressed to one another and your breathing increased with the sudden flash of heat radiating from both of your bodies.

Giving into his desires, Cillian unleashed a hard kiss on your soft lips and you were knocked off balance somewhat but he was holding you in place by your hips just above where you were propped against the back of the couch.

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally by the sudden shift in speed and you fired back licking his lips in request that he part them.

He complied and you slid your tongue just far enough to touch his and flicked it up and down quickly before pulling back. Cillian took a deep breath as he followed your tongue back into your mouth.

You lifted onto your toes to better reach Cillian’s lips and, with your movement, you felt his grip tighten on your hips.

Cillian then pulled himself further into your core which pushed you further onto the back of the couch. Cillian was trying to stay calm and you loved that and hated it at the same time. You couldn't help but want to speed him up as you could already feel his racing heart pounding against his rib cage and vibrating through your chest.

Cillian’s soft tongue retreated after licking your pink quivering lips. You shivered as you felt his fingertips squeeze tighter on your hips. You sucked his bottom lip between yours and grazed your teeth as deep as they would naturally go. You felt his jaw clench. In fact, you felt every muscle in his body tensing and then tensing more.

Your feet had been dangling but now your ankles were locked behind his knees. You didn't remember consciously placing them there but, then again, you didn't remember consciously doing anything since the moment you kissed him.

Your hand pulled him by the nape of his neck further into your mouth and he groaned accidentally then rolled his eyes at his uncontrolled noise.

Cillian then leaned you backwards, your entire weight and his depended on his feet being grounded. You tied your ankles tighter around the back of his knees and held your breath.

Eventually, Cillian moved his hands from your hips down your thigh using as much pressure as he could manage before he spread his fingers out as he journeyed just as ferociously back up.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes and using your sense of touch to the full while inhaling Cillian’s scent. He looked up, seeing your soft closed eyes and plump lips in ecstasy and his view trailed down your neck and between your breasts. His hands slid gentle and firm around your back and he gripped the small of your back with powerful fingertips.

He felt you shiver and he let his tongue slid up from the centre of your collar bone to the centre of your throat where he felt you suddenly gulp.

‘Are you sure that this is what you want Y/N?’ he asked, pausing momentarily.

‘Yes Mr Murphy…’ you stammered, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow.

‘Cillian I mean’ you giggled while taking a moment to let your summer dress drop to the floor.

‘Jesus fucking Christ’ he said as he saw you standing there in your new sexy lingerie and you couldn’t help but smirk.

‘This is all yours. I want you to fuck me’ you said and, without losing any time, Cillian kissed along your neck, over and over.

‘Trust me, I will’ he smirked as he nibbled on your neck.

He noticed that every time he breathed in, you did also. And every time he exhaled, you exhaled.

Eventually, he caught your lips with his again as his hands firmly caressed up her back and retreated down, a little further than before.

Cillian felt your eyes on him. Your breath was sweet on his lips, it made him want to breathe deeper. It seemed impossible for either of you to get any closer than you were and he felt a desire for you which he hadn’t felt for any woman in years.

You whispered his name which sent shivers down his spine. He signalled his hand to unintentionally hold you tighter while you flexed your fingers on his shoulders, digging your nails past his shirt.

Cillian looked down at your lips as they quivered your whispers. He placed his lips on yours again, not pressing but rather barely touching them.

‘Y/N’ Cillian whispered and his word was a mood and name and definition all wrapped in one. It was the answer to your unasked question. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

Cillian flexed his fingers into your thighs and lifted you up from the couch. You latched on, tightening your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He waited there, kissing you long and hard before he could even think of where to put you, if he ever wanted to put you down.

You smiled on his lips, trailing kisses to his ear and whispered ‘come with me’.

You let your fingers unzip themselves from behind his neck and your torso flung back onto the couch. You now hung up-side-down, legs still latched onto his waist. You smiled up at him and he let his fingers roam your entire body for a moment.

Both his hands pressed firmly as he explored and he started at your thighs and pressed into your tight belly. He completely encased your rib cage with his large hands before lightening his touch as he began to caress your breasts.

‘Oh god, please don’t stop’ you moaned as, finally, Cillian hoovered over you and you were laying under him. You loosened your legs and lengthened your body, your arms gripping the armrest to one end of the couch and your toes reaching for the other arm rest.

Cillian made it first priority to grab your face with both hands and hold you in the longest, hottest kiss he knew you would ever have. He kissed down your neck and you used your strength in your arms and legs to press yourself up into his mouth as he unclasped the front of your bra and let his tongue flick over your nipple.

It was too much for you to try and keep your hands from his body and you fought to keep your hands from trembling at the least as you streamed your fingers through his hair and made a request by tugging him further into your breast. He complied willingly, for a moment but was soon lost over your long flat stomach that he could feel quiver under his tongue.

He adored how nervous you were and how much you wanted it all at the same time.

‘Relax Y/N. We can stop whenever you want’ Cillian said reassuringly but stopping was the last thing you wanted him to do.

‘Don’t stop, it feels good’ you huffed out as you could barely focus your eyes as you looked down at him just as his hands melted into your panties and lifted you up by the ass in order to take them off.

His face was so close to your aching core and you gave up trying to watch him when your vision blurred from the throbbing heat wave through your body.

When Cillian finally pulled down your lace panties you heard a high pitched squeal that, a moment later, you realised came from your clenched teeth.

‘Take me Cillian, please’ you repeated at this moment and Cillian hesitated as long as he could, almost saying something but not being able to express the thought.

You could see that he was holding back. He was still reluctant and it wasn’t until you arched your back suggestively that he gave into you.

The width of his shoulders pushed your knees apart, opening you wide for him as he kissed you just above your core, causing you to moan.  

You shuddered at his hot breath against your pussy and soon felt his fingers join in, running gently over your soaking mound.  

Then, finally, you shouted, a gasp and yell all wrapped up together, as his wet tongue lapped at you, long steady strokes over your entire wetness while he held your pussy with two of his fingers.

It felt sensational and it was difficult for you to keep quiet. Luckily, both of Cillian’s children were out and you could be as loud as you wanted to be.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as his tongue circled around your clit, flicking at it, then returned lower to slide inside you as far as he could go, then back up again to your clit.

Your hips involuntarily started pushing up against him and it wasn’t long until the feeling of him pleasing you like this became too much.

‘Don’t stop’ you moaned as he used his hands to spread you open even wider while circling your clit.

You bucked, writhing against him as his tongue ran over your clit.

As his tongue kept on at you, you felt yourself climbing and climbing and climbing towards an unfamiliar feeling. It was intense and was unlike anything else you had ever felt before. You knew what it was, but yet, you didn’t expect it. Not so quick and not by him just using his tongue and fingers.

When he finally sucked your clit into his mouth, you were sent over the edge. ‘Oh god Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver as he continued to suck and lick until you slowly calmed down.

‘That was quick’ Cillian chuckled and you couldn’t help but laugh and cry all at the same time.

‘Oh Jesus…that…I didn’t…I didn’t expect that’ you huffed out, causing Cillian to laugh and look at you with some confusion.

‘What did you expect?’ he wondered as he pulled his t-shirt over his head in readiness for what was to come yet.

His body was simply perfect and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment.

‘I just didn’t think that I could come like this’ you eventually whispered and, without responding to your comment, Cillian moved up and kissed your lips hard and you took it with a moan as you let your fingers rake down his long torso and undid his jeans in one fast motion that was done before he knew what happened.

‘I want to feel you inside me’ you whispered into his lips and he painfully sighed and kissed you again, both his arms held him above you on either side of your waist. Your hands worked his jeans and briefs down just enough for you to release his tremendously hard cock and you pulled him directly over her.

Cillian looked down into your face that radiated heat and hunger. You bit your lip as you let one of your arms free and clutched the back of Cillian’s neck and engulfed yourself in his mouth again. Just as your tongue glided over his, h couldn’t hold back any longer and he drove his hard cock into you.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned. You were so wet he barely had to push himself into you although your tightness made both of you wince in pleasure.

‘Fuck you are so tight’ Cillian groaned before he bit down on his lip as he ventured deeper into you. He shut his eyes momentarily to manage to catch his heart before it pounded out of his chest.

You inhaled sharply and, just as you did, those last few inches of Cillian’s hard cock were completely enveloped in you. You clutched your ankles behind his and gripped his back with your short, unmanicured nails.

The ecstasy came in quick hot waves that they were thrown into together every time Cillian pumped into you or you thrusted up toward him.

Cillian thrusted into you over and over again and you began to moan louder than before. You experienced an uncontrollable urge to howl that you could barely hold back and Cillian shut his eyes and gripped you as tightly as he could manage.

You both used every muscle in your bodies to create one living, writhing creature rather than two. Eventually, you cried out Cillian’s name and he took you with the deepest most passionate kiss he ever possessed as you spiralled into a lazy heap.

You fucked for what appeared like hours and you were so close to your release and so was Cillian.

It wasn’t long until Cillian could feel your walls tightening around him as your moans were getting louder and your breathing became laboured.

‘Don’t come yet’ you huffed out in between moans, which took Cillian by surprise.

But he didn’t argue and nodded, complying with your request.

Nonetheless, he could tell that you were close and increased his speed and moved one of his hands between your legs, rubbing your clit.

‘Oh god!’ you shouted, loosing control as yet another orgasm washed over you.

He continued to thrust into you until you came down from your high, then slowing down his thrusts until he pulled out of you.

‘Stay there’ you said as you turned around and let your body slide off the lounge and kneeling right in front of him.

After you got comfortable enough, you guided his hard and wet cock into your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian moaned as he watched take him in all the way into the back of your throat.

You moved your tongue up and down his hard shaft firmly before running circles over his tip and continued these movements for while.

Cillian began to struggle to contain himself. Watching you suck his cock like this was too much for him.

You knew he was getting close as his cock began pulsating and you could tell that he was holding back.

‘I want to taste you, all of you’ you said in between your movements and that was all he needed to hear.

Within moments, you could feel one of his hands curling up in your hair, with no force but rather for support.

His breathing was becoming laboured and his head fell back and his eyes closed as, with one loud moan, he filled your mouth with rope after rope of his warm cum.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he groaned as his entire body was pulsating and you continued to lick him clean until he slowly came down from his high.

‘Hmm, I always wanted to do this’ you said with a smirk after swallowing his load.

‘Jesus Y/N’ he gasped and you couldn’t help but giggle slightly before climbing onto the couch with him which is when he pulled you in for another passionate kiss.

‘I am hungry, what about you?’ Cillian then asked all of a sudden, realising what had just happened between you. It was clear to him that, sleeping with you was a mistake but, for some reason unknown to him, all sense of reasonable and proper thought went through the window when you began to undress right there in front of him.

‘Me too’ you said as you watched Cillian pull up his briefs and jeans before he disappeared to order some pizza.

***

‘I suppose we aren’t going to mention this again, right?’ you asked somewhat nervously as you were both dressed and waited for your pizzas.

‘No one can know about this Y/N. I shouldn’t have…’ Cillian said somewhat upset and, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him.

‘We…we shouldn’t have’ you chuckled but Cillian felt that, being substantially older than you, he was the one to blame.

‘I shouldn’t have given into you’ he said.

‘Did you enjoy it at least?’ you wondered.

‘I enjoyed it a lot, which makes it even worse’ he told you before asking you the same question.

‘I did, but I am sure you were able to tell’ you chuckled.

‘I was’ Cillian chuckled before informing you that he was glad that his neighbours were on a cruise.

‘Well, it was the best sex I’ve ever had so, even if this was a one of thing, I am glad I took my chances’ you then said which is when the doorbell rang and you knew that your pizzas had arrived.

***

Not long after you ate, you heard the front door barge open and you were a little surprised when you saw Denise walking through it.

‘I take your date didn’t go well?’ you asked, offering her the last two pieces of pizza which she gladly accepted while Cillian went into the kitchen to get Denise a glass of water.

‘I have decided that he is an asshole’ Denise chuckled and, to your surprise, she didn’t appear to be to upset.

‘Want to tell me about it?’ you asked just as Cillian returned from the kitchen but Denise shook her head.

‘Not tonight and not in front of my dad’ Denise laughed and Cillian was quick to excuse himself, giving the two of you some privacy.

‘So how was your evening? I see that dad ordered you some pizza from my favourite pizzeria’ Denise said, wondering what you had been doing.

‘Uhm…yeah…good. The pizza was nice’ you barely managed to stammer.

‘What did you do?’ she then asked.

‘Uhm…we…uhm…ate pizza and we watched a movie’ you quickly blurted out after not being able to think of something else as you glanced at the two empty wine glasses in front of you.

‘You watched a movie, ate some pizza and drank some wine…with my dad? Weirdo’ Denise then chuckled and you simply shrug your shoulders.

‘Yeah, your dad is nice, so why not?’ you huffed out somewhat embarrassed.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

[dummysmile]

{4:24 PM} - Choi Beomgyu

Masterlist

Smut (16+)

pairing: Sub! non-idol! Victim! Beomgyu x Femdom! Bully! Y/n

Warning! - Cuss word galore, spitting, cum eating?, degradation. hand and blow job. It's weird cause they have sex-sex because I was too lazy to write it. maybe next time.

please tell me how I can make this better.

"Why're you so mean?" Beomgyu pouted. His big brown eyes stared at you, shifting of course, because he didn't want to get yelled at for prolonged staring. You contemplated an answer not really knowing.

"I'm not mean," you shoved him to the ground, "I'm just acknowledging your pathetic ass the way you deserve." You finished, delivering spit to his face.

The clump clear liquid sprung across his face making him the most beautiful you'd ever seen him. You watched his reaction—it wasn't anything special, he was just sitting there on the floor on the verge of tears with his mouth hung open.

You crouched down, pulling the boy's long hair harshly. Beomgyu's mouth closed quickly and he visibly gulped at the harshness. His eyes fluttered closed as you leaned close to his reddening ear.

"Does the pathetic baby like my spit?" You quietly purred into the boy's ear. Bringing small kisses from his lobe to his exposed clavicle.  With his eyes closed he slowly shook his head, denying his love for the warm liquid on his face.

You hummed in response. You had yet to let go of his hair, but you did pull your face from his collarbone where two bruises began forming from your tiny bites. His eyes opened lightly, initiating an intense and quiet eye contact. With your free hand, you dragged it from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. Bundling your spit between your two fingers. The boy's mouth opened and his pink tongue relaxed over his plump bottom lip.

Your fingers laid against his pallet where he began to suck on them. You both maintained eye contact— that broke for the nth time because you stared at the boy who had your fingers buried in his warm mouth.

"Em I 'till patetic?" Beomgyu asked slightly above a whisper. His speech was slightly fucked up because of the fingers slowly massaging his tongue.

You then harshly thrusted in his throat. Making his eyes screw closed.

"Slightly less." You smirked, pulling your fingers from his throat, that weren't free without a thick trail of spit following it. You pushed your fingers into your own mouth taking in the taste of boy.

You moaned in delight, "Someone's been eating candy."

"Cherry fun-dip" He whispered, showing multiple packs in pocket that just so happened to be next to his extremely visible hard on. He looked down knowing your line of vision also lined up with his dick.

"Wanna come to my dorm?" He asked, looking away.

"As if I'd fuck your pathetic ass," you said watching him stand, "lead the way." You said looking at his cock pushing against his pants.

He nodded, turning. He turned back around not too long after. He yanked your shirt down, revealing one of your super hard nipples. Beomgyu gave you a cute smile before gently covering you back up and patting it safe.

"I really like boobies."

You chose to ignore him.

Once you rounded the corner he pulled out his keys.

"Are your roommates coming anytime soon?" You asked, stepping into the slightly clean living room. He shook his head going to the kitchen.

He was sitting on the kitchen island with a bottle of water. You placed yourself between his legs trailing his thighs. It was quiet, peaceful even. He pulled your shirt up over your head and not bothering to unclip your bra, he also pulled it over your head.

"Holy shit, they're fucking huge." He quietly gawked, grasping onto the same one he exposed in the hall. "And they're super warm." He moaned. "Fuckkkk~" Beomgyu dragged, gripping both nipples and dropping over your shoulder. You softly sighed as his grip tightened.

You pulled his shirt over his head. Immediately place your mouth onto his shoulder harshly. As a reaction, Beomgyu grasped your body into his. Pulling your body closer, allowing himself to whimper at the pleasure of you making him. You let your hands travel to his hair and begin caressing the ends of his hair. You sat in one another's embrace, before making eye contact for the nth time today. Your lips connected and lingered upon each other.

It was a truly beautiful moment.

Beomgyu's body began thrusting against your stomach. "You're making me feel so good." He moaned out.

"You'll get to cum—" You began, but you were cut off by loud  speaking and squeaky sneakers.

"I thought they weren't coming home."

"I thought you wouldn't want to hmm anymore."

At that you yanked him down by his hair and dragged him to his room.

"You fucking pathetic piece of shit!" You yelled at him harshly in the midst of your journey. You weren't concerned about the boy whimpering under your hold, nor were you concerned about the 4 boys watching you walk across their dorm with their friend in one hand and your boobs in the other.

You pushed him into his room—you figured it was his since 'BEOMGYU's room' was on a piece of copy paper and taped to the door.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" You asked, looking at Beomgyu who was scrambling to his feet.

"You're no one—No, you're nothing."

His tears fell off his chin and you dropped down in front of him similar to how you were positioned earlier. You grabbed his chin. pulling him into your gaze.

"Poor baby," you cooed, drying his face although the tears running down his face turned you on. "C'mon, repeat after me."

"I am nothing, but a pathetic loser."

"I am nothing, but a pathetic loser."

"Good boy." You smiled, kissing the pouting boys lips.

"Thank you, mommy." He said blushing deeply as he kissed you again. You were about to deepen the kiss when the boy gained access to your mouth and began softly biting at your tongue.

"Fu—Fuck Beomgyu!" You moaned, but soon turned into you yelling at him due to his teeth harshly gripping your tongue. "Get on the bed." You demanded.

He quickly got in the bed and laid with his arms behind his head. "Is Mommy's baby ready?" You asked, stalking to the bed.

You began palming him through his pants, making sure you were in charge of the kiss. He pushed his pants down, kicking them, not breaking the kiss.

You hated to ruin his effort of keeping the kiss unbroken, but you kissed down his jaw until you were laying in front of him with his pretty dick in your face.

Beomgyu watched you with intense eyes, as you licked the tip of his red and swelling cock. "My sweet boy." You cooed, rubbing him before swirling on a sensitive part of his tip.

"Mommy, you're mouth—fuck," he moaned out of breath, "I need your boobies." He said reaching to play with your nipples. You took all of him in suddenly, rubbing whatever you couldn't take.

After a few moments of Beomgyu groaning and occasionally screeching from holding his orgasms.

"Why aren't you cumming?" You asked annoyed.

"I-I-I—Fuck, I don't deserve to. I'm so pathetic." He whined bucking his hip.

"Just cum baby, I won't be upset with you."

He nodded before letting out loud moans. "Kiss me mommy."

You happily leaned up and captured his lips. His body shook rapidly.

"Oh fuck, shit, I'm cumming" He nearly screamed as his veiny dick shot streams of cum onto his stomach. Beomgyu was out of breath and his face showed how worn out he was. He leaned over to grab the towel on his night stand only for your tongue to sit on his torso, just about to lick up his juices.

"No!" He yelled moving away from you. That didn't stop you as you held him down and licked his cum smiling at him as he began wailing. He immediately clutched into you

"The fuck is wrong with you."

"You ate it and it wasn't worthy of going into your beautiful mouth. "

"Aww gyu. Your cum isn't pathetic, just you."

"I love you."

Your mouth hung open at the boy.

"Can I suck on your boobies like a baby?"

You nodded still dumb struck by his L bomb, laying next to him.

"I'm pretty sure I love your pathetic ass too." You mumbled to the sleeping boy who was attached to your nipple.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #kpop smut #txt beomgyu

[riotwritesthings]

Location Matters

WinterIron, E, 2.6k - PWP, semi-public sex, anal fingering, begging, dirty talk, edging, orgasm delay

Ayyy welcome to the first day of Smutober! Yes that’s right, I’m going with Smutober, Kinktober didn’t quite feel right when I’m much more focused on just writing smut than getting through a list of unique kinks. And I’m not following any prompt list at all, just my heart. And I have no idea how many fics I’ll actually be able to get out this month, I have been having a Bad Brain Time, as the kids say, but I’m gonna do what I can and it’s better than nothing right?! Anywho I’m here to break rules and write smut so lets get to it!!

~~~

“Please,” Tony sobs as he arches his back harder, fingers scrabbling at the shelves in front of him and he really can’t bring himself to care about the several packets of pasta that go tumbling to the ground.

Even if he didn’t consider dry pasta a terrible abomination, Tony has way better things to focus on anyways. Like the solid line of heat that is Bucky pressed in close against him, pinning Tony securely between Bucky’s broad chest and the corner of the shelves as two of Bucky’s calloused fingers slowly press into him.

Tony knows they’re being more than a little ridiculous. They are grown adults with their own bedroom, but here they are in the common kitchen of the compound, barely hidden away in the walk-in pantry with Bucky’s hand shoved down his pants like horny teenagers. He can feel Bucky’s cock nudging hard and thick against the back of his thigh and Tony is well on his way to fully hard himself, rocking back against Bucky’s hand and trying to force him to move faster.

“Fuck, I- you- I need—“ Tony gasps out, voice breaking off into a moan when Bucky’s fingers press a little deeper. His grip on the shelves slips again as he can’t decide between turning to face Bucky or just trying to force himself back onto Bucky’s fingers, trying to get more, and Tony ends up just kind of twitching and thrashing in place.

“Patience, baby,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving over the skin beneath Tony’s ear and that’s probably Tony’s least favorite thing to hear but oh he loves the way Bucky says it, low and rumbling and burning with intensity.

Bucky shifts his wrist a little and it works Tony’s worn pajamas down a little lower past the curve of his ass, but not enough to free his cock from the clinging fabric. When Tony rocks his hips in place, trying get any friction, or Bucky’s fingers pressing into him deeper, or anything, all he gets is the faint drag of soft flannel over his leaking cock. Tony lets out a desperate groan and tries to buck his hips harder, but Bucky just moves with him, not letting Tony have more than the not-enough stretch of two of Bucky’s fingertips barely working him open. Which, after Bucky thoroughly fucked him into the couch earlier today, it’s not nearly enough.

“What do you mean patience, we are in the kitchen,” Tony finally manages to get out, and his voice might be rough and breathy but he still thinks it’s a decent point.

Sure, it was some ungodly hour of the morning when they finished their latest Star Trek binge and first stumbled down here looking for snacks, but Tony has honestly lost track of time entirely at this point. He has no idea how long it’s been since Bucky kicked the pantry door shut behind them and crowded Tony up against the shelves and or all he knows the damn early birds in the house will be along any second, yanking the door open looking for the pancake mix or something and getting a whole-ass eyeful. Literally.

But in the next second all thought is pushed from Tony’s mind when Bucky’s fingers finally press deeper, nudging over his prostate as they twist inside him. Tony had more good points to make, he swears he did, but he forgets all of them as Bucky begins to finger him in earnest, pressing kisses to Tony’s throat and mouthing filthy paise into his skin, bringing Tony right up to the edge with the almost brutal efficiency that he’s basically perfected.

“’S this what you wanted, baby? Want me to really work you open, make you feel it?” Bucky demands roughly, his lips sliding up to Tony’s jaw and all Tony can manage is a shaking whine, trying desperately to shove himself back onto Bucky’s fingers. “Yeah, always take it so fuckin’ sweet, feel so perfect wrapped around me, clenching an’ shakin’, still tryin’ to fuck yourself back on my fingers even when you can’t barely move.”

As if to prove his point Bucky presses Tony in harder against the shelves, pinning him in place as every twist and thrust of Bucky’s fingers set off new shockwaves of pleasure through Tony’s whole body, pushing him higher. Bucky alternates between deep thrusts that make Tony ache for more and relentless jabs to his prostate that are driving Tony out of his mind.

“Please, please,” Tony begs, shaking as Bucky’s fingers stroke over his prostate again, tension winding tighter in his gut and he’s so close. He’s sobbing out every breath as Bucky’s fingers bear down harder and Tony clenches around them, arching back into the pressure as his balls draw up tight and the knot of pleasure inside him twists tighter, tighter—

And then Bucky’s fingers disappear, withdrawing from him entirely and Tony is left dangling right at the edge without anything to push him over, clenching around nothing and feeling so empty. He can’t even rock his hips in place for the light drag of his pajamas over his cock, Bucky’s free hand tight on his hip to hold him in place and it only accentuates the waves of pleasure still sparking along Tony’s nerves, not quite enough.

“What the fuck,” Tony groans, “you hate me, you hate me and you want me to die like this, is that it?!”

“Tha’s what you always say when I try to take my time with you,” Bucky points out with a low, rumbling laugh as he drags his fingers too-lightly over Tony’s loose hole.

“And I’m still convinced it’s true!” Tony replies, his voice caught somewhere between a snap and a whine. He has more to say, but he’s interrupted by Bucky pressing back into him with three fingers this time, stretching him that little bit wider and he’s so loose, so desperate, that there’s not even a burn. All Tony feels is the stretch of it as Bucky’s fingers sink all the way into him, until Tony can feel him everywhere.

Bucky’s fingers thrust in and out of him in an unsteady rhythm, working him up without ever giving him enough to push him to the edge again and Tony buries his face in his folded arms to try and muffle the sob that bursts out of him. His legs are doing nothing to support him at this point, it’s only Bucky’s hand on his hip and Bucky’s chest pressed flush against his shoulder blades and Bucky’s fingers buried deep inside him, holding him up and taking him apart.

He can’t think past the waves of pleasure that rush through him every time Bucky just barely nudges his prostate, the shudders that run through him when Bucky withdraws his fingers just enough to tug at his stretched rim, making sure Tony feels it. And just when Tony thinks the knot in his gut can’t wind any tighter, that he’s about to come with nothing more than the maddeningly inconsistent press and twist of Bucky’s thick fingers inside him, playing with him, the pressure abruptly disappears and leaves him achingly empty.

“Oh, you absolute bastard,” Tony groans, thunking his head against the shelf in front of him and then sucking in a sharp breath when Bucky laughs roughly and drags his fingertips in light circles around Tony’s hole. “Would you just-“ Tony cuts off into a breathy whine when Bucky’s fingers just barely start to press into him again, trying to arch his back harder like he can force Bucky’s fingers back inside him despite the way Bucky has him thoroughly pinned in place, completely helpless as Bucky’s fingers continue dragging wetly around and around his clenching hole, until Tony’s every breath is coming out as a pleading whine.

When Bucky finally pushes his fingers back in he does it slowly, so slowly, making sure Tony can feel every shift and press, working him back right back to the edge with steady, inescapable thrusts of his fingers and then pushing him higher. Until Tony has no idea how he hasn’t already broken and he can’t even try to rock back into it anymore, can’t move, can only take it.

“Fuck, love the way you shake for me,” Bucky growls, all hot breath and teeth against the line of Tony’s throat as he crooks his fingers a little harder, and then has to crowd in against Tony a little more to help keep him upright as Tony’s legs give out entirely.

Tony’s legs might be useless noodles at this point but that doesn’t stop them from shaking with overstimulation, his hips jerking and twitching in place with every deep press of Bucky’s fingers. Tony’s entire body is shaking like he’s been hit with a live wire and he’s crying out every breath, his fingers going numb from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of the shelf.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this, blissed out an’ shaking’ with it, can barely even hold yourself up,” Bucky growls, pressing down harder on Tony’s prostate and Tony’s entire body jolts hard, his hands sliding off the shelf and his bare feet sliding against the floor.

After a second of scrambling Tony manages to cross his arms across the shelf, burying his face against his forearms to try and muffle his wail. Partially because he’s so close and fuck Tony might just die if they get interrupted before Bucky finally lets him cum, if it’s not soon, and also because he doesn’t want to miss the honestly filthy words spilling out of Bucky’s mouth.

“C’mon sugar, wanna feel you come on my fingers,” Bucky says, a low rumbling growl against the curve of Tony’s shoulder, “always clench down so damn tight around me, sound so gorgeous, wanna hear you sobbin’ for me.” He thrusts his fingers in hard again and then twists, stretching Tony’s loose rim a little more and even that is enough to have Tony’s entire body jolting, another ragged cry tearing out of him. “Fuckin’ love this, don’t you baby?” Bucky demands roughly, “bein’ worked open and stuffed full? Pinned and helpless an’ just takin it, lettin’ me play with you however I want until you’re beggin’ for it just- like- this?”

The final couple words are punctuated with a too-brief drag of Bucky’s fingertips over his prostate, sending bolts of pleasure through him that are right on the edge of too-much and god it’s not enough. Tony is only vaguely aware that he’s trying to beg, but keeping track of the broken attempts at words and ragged sounds spilling past his slack lips is far less important than the sensations rushing through him.

Tony would much rather focus on trying to shove himself back to meet the press of Bucky’s fingers, no matter how little he’s actually accomplishing, right up until Bucky presses in impossibly closer and Tony is left completely immobile. Bucky’s metal fingers disappear from his hip to instead tangle in his hair, yanking Tony’s head back with one hard tug and Tony has no hope of muffling or containing the loud cry that escapes him. All he knows is the deep, insistent press of Bucky inside him, the burning pleasure and ache as his spine is pulled into a sharp arch and Bucky’s fingers seem to press impossibly deeper.

“Fuck-“ Tony chokes out, panting brokenly for air and then whining when even that simple motion lights up his entire body, like he’s just one giant struck nerve and his face is wet with sweat or tears or both as he finally manages to gasp out “please—“

“I can feel how fucking close you are, sweet thing, how much you need it,” Bucky says, lips trailing up Tony’s neck and when Tony tries to wiggle in his hold, to rock himself down onto Bucky’s fingers, anything, Bucky’s teeth catch at the corner of his jaw to hold him in place. “Don’t you wanna come for me baby?” Bucky demands once Tony goes relatively still in his hold, hard tremors still running through him as Bucky’s fingers continue to thrust and press and twist inside him. “Don’t you wanna make a fuckin’ mess of yourself for me? Let me watch you wobble back to our room, legs still shaking’ and cum coolin’ on your skin, flushed and dazed and gorgeous, wanna let me lick you clean and put you to bed still sloppy and reekin’ like sex?”

“I- I- ahh—“ Tony wants to say that god does he want that, he’s so close, but every drag of Bucky’s fingers is melting every thought out of his head and Tony is nearly screaming out every exhale and he can’t stop, shaking too hard to properly fuck himself back onto Bucky’s hand and fuck he’s so close—

“C’mon Tony, give it to me,” Bucky snarls, rocking his hips against Tony and circling his fingers hard over Tony’s prostate and that’s it.

Tony’s loud cry cuts off as his voice breaks, and instead he’s left making hoarse, breathy noises as he comes, wave after wave of pleasure rushing over him, dragging him under. He can barely hear anything past his own pulse throbbing in his ears, his orgasm dragging on and on with every relentless shove of Bucky’s fingers still working into him until Tony’s brain finally whites out to the sound of his own hitching, wailing moan.

When Tony zones back in, both of Bucky’s arms are wound around his waist, holding him steady as Tony continues twitching with fading aftershocks. His pants are back in place, although the front of them is indeed a mess of his own cooling cum, and Tony has to forcibly remind himself why just falling asleep right here is a bad idea.

And it’s not because he can feel Bucky’s cock still pressed hard and warm against his hip, no matter how distracting of a realization that is.

“What time is it?” Tony asks roughly, because his mind might be a little (a lot) blown, and he really wants to do something about the way Bucky is rocking minutely against him while he lets Tony catch his breath, but not as much as Tony wants to not get another lecture about public indecency. It always makes him feel a little too much like he’s back in college.

There’s a tellingly long silence before Bucky clears his throat and says, “Uh… we should probably get back to our own room pretty soon.”

The hoarse, gravely sound of Bucky’s voice has heat valiantly trying to swell in Tony’s gut again, but Tony forces himself to focus on arguing “You should probably carry me back to our room, because what even are legs. I don’t think I have them, I certainly cannot feel them.”

Bucky laughs but seems all too happy to oblige in scooping Tony up off the ground, even if it is more in an up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes way than Tony would really prefer. He’s about to complain, but then Bucky’s hand settles over the curve of his ass and Tony decides he can live with it, and at least this will keep the rapidly cooling cum soaked through the front of his pajamas from rubbing against his skin.

It’s not until they’re in the elevator that Tony’s brain comes back online enough for him to remember all of Bucky’s filthy promises, and Tony grins at the small of Bucky’s back as he says, “I guess if you really want I’ll try wobbling around like a drunken baby giraffe when we reach our floor, but frankly I’m more invested in the ‘licking’ part of your plan.”

Bucky hums, equal parts amused and thoughtful, and Tony’s breath catches hard as Bucky shifts his grip a little, his fingers easily dipping between Tony’s cheeks through his thin pajamas.

#My fic #Winteririon #buckytony #starkbucks #bucky/tony #you ever accidentally develop a brand #and then decide you might as well lean into it? #anyways here’s more fooling around in a pantry for some reason

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 2

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You alright?” Somi asked gently, watching me fling  my backpack into the corner of the room with enough force to dislodge one of the wooden panels on the wall, the shelf crashing and bringing down the two potted plants on it. The sound of ceramic shattering made me wince, regret churning in my stomach. 

“Yeah...yeah. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Somi.. I broke your pots-”

“Never mind the pots...why do you look so upset? Have you been crying?” She demanded , reaching for me, hands curling around my wrists and drawing me into a hug and I swallowed, my throat dry and eyes swollen from all the tears that I’d wrung out of them. 

Outside the room, Namjoon stood guard, at the door and I felt guilty remembering how the past three hours had gone. 

After confronting Jungkook, I’d stormed off in righteous indignation and poor Namjoon had been forced to follow. 

He had kept a discreet distance as I climbed to the tallest ridge on the roof, scaling the gables with ease and I knew he had been terrified at the prospect of me falling. 

Immortal or not a three hundred foot drop to the ground would be something that would hurt.

And it was my bodyguard’s job to make sure I did not get hurt. 

When he wasn’t busy fucking other women that is. 

I gripped my sister harder, fingers curling into the fir of her coat as I tried to catch my bearing. 

“Do you know Helena?” I whispered, pulling away to look at her. Somi’s face fell,eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh, no. Was she here?” She asked gently, reaching out and cupping my cheeks and my lips wobbled. 

“Why didn’t you warn me that he was in a relationship?” my voice shook and Somi shook her head. 

“He’s not!! God, Helena doesn’t do relationships. Jungkook and her.... well, I’m not sure but they’re just fuck buddies..... barely that. You know she’s from the Kim clan right? Those bloodsuckers never settle for one partner. “ She muttered. 

I stared at her.

“He called me a child and then told me he’ll tell dad if i try to make a move on him.” I whispered. 

Somi flinched.

“Sera....”

“It was humiliating and painful and I don’t ever want to think about it, ever again.” I muttered. 

She sighed. 

“It’s not like you don’t have men dying for a glance from you, Sera. You forget that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the clan. If he rejects you, you’re definitely not the one missing out in that equation.” 

I nodded, misery seeping into me. My sob-fest on the roof hadn’t been wasted. I was angry at first but now, a sort of resigned acceptance had taken the place of my anger. 

 The look on Jungkook’s face had been too real, the emotion behind his rejection too potent for me to get over. I wasn’t sure I could change his mind.

Wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. 

“Was he very hurtful ? You know, if you tell dad, he’ll hire someone else and-”

“No.” I said immediately. “ I won’t do that. It’s not his fault, it’s minge. I acted out like a...well a child to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’s always been obvious in his disinterest. I was just too blinded my own attraction to consider that it wasn’t reciprocated.” I grimaced. 

God, I’d been an idiot and Jungkook’s words had knocked some good sense into my head. But I did care for him and his son and they needed this job. I wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy just because I didn’t get my way. 

I was better than that.

“Alright... Dad wanted to meet you for breakfast tomorrow.... He sounded serious. Do you know what that’s about?”

I groaned, when I remembered the reason my dad wanted to see me these days. 

“Dad wants me to start meeting men now. He thinks I’m old enough now that i’ve turned 21. He’s been badgering me for a whole entire month but I kept putting him off because of...well, because of Jungkook.” I admitted. 

Somi looked worried.

“You want to ? If you don’t we can talk to dad and-”

“No-” I shook my head.” I’m just gonna agree.” 

Somi looked surprised.

“Are you sure? Sera you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

I smiled weakly. 

“I’m not going to be allowed to stay single forever Somi. Especially not when the entirety of dad’s day is spent trying to chase suitors away from the door. Do you know the Count from Jeju Do...dude’s a whole seven centuries old and he looks like a toad. He apparently tried to ask about me and Dad’s been freaking out.  “ I shuddered. 

Somi laughed.

“ That’s what you get for being you. But dad’s right. Keeping you away from everyone is only inviting more interest. And we don’t want you to be with someone insufferable.” She ruffled my hair and I hugged her again sighing into her shoulders.

No I didn’t want to be with someone who just saw me as some kind of a possession to be owned. I wanted someone nice and kind. A handsome man who did the right thing .  Someone who maybe, worked hard to give his kid a safe and protected life, someone who didn’t shun away from hard work and was a gentleman as well. 

Someone like-

“Someone other than Jungkook.” Somi said gently reading my mind. 

“I really liked him.” I whispered softly, feeling tears spring again. 

God, I thought I was all out of tears for Jeon Jung Kook but apparently I was wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took extra care with my makeup the next morning, because my father usually had a ton of business meetings during his breakfast. I didn’t usually bother but , I was going to agree to his suggestions today and well, nothing wrong in delighting my father. And nothing made him happier than seeing me prance about  with pretty feminine clothes . 

My dad, for all his jovial cheerful air, loved his position as the head of the Hwang clan. And as his most prized possession , I was the apple of his eye. And while he didn’t treat me as an object or anything ( my dad loved me deeply and his affection was always evident. ) , there was no mistaking the fact that my dad enjoyed the power that came with being my guardian. Powerful men were willing to bend to his will, just for a chance to be with me. 

I sound insufferable, don’t I?

Trust me I’m not. 

The vampires that court me are usually assholes. Entitled, brain dead assholes .  When I opened the door in the morning, dressed in a short summer dress and ready to meet my dad, I was surprised to see Jungkook standing guard outside. He straightened away from the wall where he was fiddling with his phone, his gaze flitting to me, eyes cold and blank. 

I bowed lightly, not smiling.

“Mr. Jeon. I have a breakfast date with my father and then I’ll be heading to the cottage. I’m also meeting a friend of mine at the Art Museum in the evening so i’ll need the Mercedes brought around to pick me up maybe at 5.00PM.” I said briskly, glancing at him. 

My face flamed red when I noticed his gaze, fixed steadily on my ass. I cleared my throat angrily and his eyes met mine, a slow lazy grin playing around his mouth. 

“You look different.” He commented , shamelessly giving me another once over. 

The nerve. 

I swallowed, willing myself not to blush harder.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

He chuckled.

“That dress barely covers your butt, angel. You sure you want to head to daddy dearest, dressed like that?” The way he said daddy made my skin heat up. 

I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

“That’s...that is none of your damn business.” I said shrilly.

He gave me another once over.

“Okay, then. If that’s what you’re into...fine. Let’s go.” 

Gritting my teeth, i tried to keep my face neutral. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. I would not. 

I walked ahead of him , my fists clenched and my jaw tight and I felt incredibly upset because the day had barely begun and I was already wound tight. I was supposed to be relaxed and clear headed while talking to my father but Jeon Jungkook had muddled my brains as usual. 

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. 

“Sera, wait.” His voice made me pause and I stopped, turning around to glare at him.

“What?” I snapped. 

He sighed, deeply. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, tongue pressing into his cheek the way it did when he was upset. 

“About last night-”

I felt my pulse quicken. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” I said quickly, turning back around to leave but his fingers came around my arm, gripping hard . 

“Well tough luck. Because I do!” He said sharply. 

I whimpered, pain blooming up my arm and he swore, loosening his grip.

“I keep forgetting you’re human.” He muttered, “ I’m sorry... I just... I wanted to apologize for how i handled things last night. I was twenty once and I should have been more understanding.”

I closed my eyes. Oh, God no. Please, please for the love of God, let me hate you in peace. Don’t apologize and make me fall in love all over again.

“Its fine.” I choked out. “ You were right. I was out of line.”

“You deserve better.” He said quickly, eyes flitting away from my face and I felt a sharp pang in my heart. God , this was agonizing. 

“Jungkook-”

“It’s just that you’re...well you know who you are. You can’t be with ...someone like me and trust me you don’t want to be with someone like me either. I know its appealing, the whole illusion of stability. older man, has a kid, has his life together .....but that’s not all it means .” He gave me a tired smile.

I bit my lips, ot replying and he went on. 

 “ I have baggage, a shit ton of it and I would have to be especially cruel to unload something like that on a girl barely out of her teens. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of ,....but ruining your life, I’m gonna draw the line there.” He smiled , looking a whole decade younger and I closed my eyes.

I was back to square one, I thought miserably. He had my whole heart. 

“ So we’re good right?” He prompted and I exhaled, giving him a smile.

“We’re good.”

“That’s good. Because my son loves you and I would rather we be friends. You’re just like a daughter to me. ” He touched my face gently, pulling away at once, the small contact leaving fire in its wake and I had to clench my fists . 

A daughter?!! Is he out of his damned mind? 

“Okay.” 

“Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jungkook, please sit down. You’re like my son and I don’t want you hovering like you’re part of the backdrop. I’ve trusted you with my entire life.” My father beamed, pointing at me and i laughed. 

Jungkook bowed respectfully, taking the chair next to me. 

“How are you , my buttercup?” My father asked softly, fingers gripping mine and I smiled.

“I’m well, father. Do you like my dress?” 

Next to me Jungkook coughed and I shot him a dirty look. 

“It looks ravishing on you. The prettiest flower in my estate is my daughter, do you agree Jungkook?” My father prompted and I swallowed the smirk that threatened. 

Poor Jungkook was going to learn that being my bodyguard meant singing my praises twenty four seven or at least anytime my father was in hearing distance. 

“Uh..” Jungkook’s eyes flitted between the two of us, “ Yes sir. Your daughter is quite lovely.” 

I beamed at him and he looked away quickly. 

Coward. 

Turning back to my dad I held my hand out. 

“DAd, you wanted to see me about something?”

“Yes dearest. You know the Kim clan’s matriarch has been after me. Three of her great great great grandsons have come of age recently. And all three of them are set to take over some very lucrative businesses. They are good men and apparently they’re quite smitten with you. They say you know of them from school?”

I sighed.

“Do you know their names?” I prompted.

“Mingyu, Minjae and Yugyeom.” My father said briskly. 

 Ugh.

 “ They’ve asked me out before, yes.” 

“Uh..Excuse me.. Could I get a refill?” Jungkook said quietly next to me and i turned, watching him wave to one of the footmen. 

“Jungkook, are you thirsty?” My father asked brightly. 

An idea formed in my head, wicked and dangerous. 

“Perhaps, he should get a taste of the Hwang Elixir?” I said innocently. 

My father’s gaze snapped to mine. 

A small frown made its way to his face. 

“Are you sure? I’m not sure if Jungkook would be comfortable-”

I turned to him, purposely flipping my long hair off my shoulders exposing my throat . Jungkook’s eyes went to the curve of my neck at once and i felt a sick sort of triumph when his eyes flashed red.

“Oh, no no...” I crooned, leaning in closer. “ I’m sure you aren’t uncomfortable , are you Jungkook ssi? After all, I am just like a daughter to you , aren’t I?” I stared right at him, fluttering my lashes and I saw his jaw clench. 

“Of course, Ms. Hwang.” He said briskly, glaring at me. I played with the small gold chain around my neck, letting my fingers flutter over my pulse , drawing his gaze there.

“Well, that is true ...” My father looked uncertain, but I gave him a gentle nod and a smile. 

“Well, as a special guest, I suppose you can enjoy our hospitality , Jeon. Why don’t you take a drink from -”

I moved closer, pressing up against him and Jungkook sighed, lips closing over my neck, and I felt my eyes flutter shut at the wet warmth of his mouth . 

It was intoxicating, the way he used one hand to grip my neck gently, the other on my waist to steady me and when his fangs pierced through, I could sense the warm liquid flood his mouth and Jungkook’s entire body relaxed, a strangled moan escaping him. 

“---my daughter’s wrist.” My father finished and I felt Jungkook stiffen next to me. 

This time I couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on my face. 

My eyes dropped to his lap and yup, his pants definitely looked a tad tighter. 

“Did I do good, Mr Jeon? Or should I call you daddy? ” I whispered quietly , fluttering my lashes at him and his fangs retracted and he pulled away from me, shoving me back into my own chair quickly. 

My father was slightly slack jawed. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hwang. “ Jungkook muttered and I laughed.

“I do believe it is I whom you should be apologizing to. It is  my  neck you just mauled. ” I smiled brightly staring at Jungkook and if looks could kill, I would have a thousand wooden stakes through my heart right about now. ‘

Take that Mr. Jeon. 

Daughter, my ass. 

“My apologies , Sera.” He said stiffly. 

My father laughed raucously.

“Ahh, you must be used to the neck, my dear boy. understandable understandable. it is how we used to do it in the old days, after all . These younglings with all their etiquette and feminism and what not....it’s hard to keep up..... But now you must tell me? Is my daughter not the sweetest you’ve ever had?” 

I choked, coughing. Oh God, sometimes my 900 year old father had no idea how he sounded. 

Jungkook looked like he had swallowed a lemon. 

“She’s certainly ...” He stopped, probably realizing that any adjective at the end of that sentence would sound entirely wrong. 

“Delicious?” I prompted, blinking innocently and Jungkook shot me another glare. 

“Well, nevermind nevermind. .... So, tell me dearest, will you be willing to meet the Kim boys?”

I sighed.

“I like Yugyeom. I cannot stand Minjae. I don’t know enough about Mingyu to make any judgement. How about I meet Mingyu and if I don’t hit it off with him, I will allow Yugyeom to court me....” I said softly.

I glanced at Jungkook but he was studiously looking away. 

“Very well my dear. Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the museum.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“Well isn’t that a wonderful coincidence. Mingyu's law firm is just a block away if I’m not mistaken. I’ll ask the boy to pick you up afterwards. Have dinner with him and you can tell me tonight of your choice.” My father smiled briskly.

“Yes, father.” 

“Jungkook..” My father prompted and the vampire glanced up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take good care of her. At the restaurant, make sure you stay at hearing distance. “ 

“Yes sir.” Jungkook bowed and I groaned. 

In other words, let my father know if I behaved appropriately. 

i pouted and my father waggled his finger at me.

“No, no no.. Missy. I’m going to make sure you keep your end of the bargain . You need to give these men a proper chance before you reject them. “ 

I nodded.

“And you must ask Either Somi or Seolhyun to dress you. No jeans or one of those ridiculous gowns that make you look like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking the snort that came from my right and i glared at Jungkook before turning to my dad.

“Yes, father.” 

“Good, now run along the pair of you. “

I stood up, kissing my father fondly on his forehead.

“I love you.” I whispered. 

“You are my whole entire joy, dearest. “ He kissed my hand gently, eyes warm and soft.

As we left the room, Jungkook let out a sigh.

“I am never having a meal with you two again.” He ground out and I laughed. 

“Anything you say, daddy.” I grinned. 

Jungkook groaned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As luck would have it,  my friend cancelled . 

So at six the evening, I finished locking up the cottage as the last of the kids left, fumbling with the lock while a tired Joo Won napped in his father’s arms, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulders. I felt myself soften at the picture they made, Jungkook singing softly , fingers brushing his son’s hair back as he rocked him gently. 

“I’ll be a while... I needed to get ready. Why don’t you put him to bed? Who’s watching him tonight?”

“Hwasa and Moonbyul offered. I’ll drop you off in your room and head to the north wing. What time are you meeting the jerkwad?” He said casually.

I blinked rapidly, confused.

“I’m sorry... the jerkwad?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’ just a fact. Most men are absolute jerks at twenty one.” He shrugged. 

i felt myself bristling on behalf of the unknown Mingyu.

“That is absolutely unfair. My brothers were incredibly kind and good.”

“To you perhaps. Because they don’t have to impress you. But men act differently when they’re trying to get between a woman’s thighs. They’re jerks when they want to get laid...” He grinned.

“Is that why you act like a jerk to me? ” I smiled evilly and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, darling we both know I don’t have to act in any different way to get you into my bed . I just have to do this.” He smirked, curling his finger in a come hither gesture.  

I felt my pulse pound and I tried not to let his words get to my head. He was flirting , yes but it was a joke. He was joking with me because the very idea of being with me was a joke to him. 

And I couldn’t forget that. 

Rolling my eyes, I pulled on the lock a couple more times to make sure the door was well locked. 

“Shall we leave?” He prompted watching me wrestle the backpack onto my shoulders. I grunted under the weight. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s he doing? With stuff?” Jungkook asked gently and I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“He’s very advanced for his age Jungkook. You’ve done a wonderful job with him. He’s able to read and he has a beautiful l writing hand. He’s learned his multiplication tables all the way up to seven and he has the voice of an angel. Which I think he gets from you. ” I smiled, reaching out to brush the back of Joowon’s head. 

Jungkook smiled softly, the late evening sun painting his perfect features in a soft golden glow. 

“Your father was kind enough to support me the first few years when i had him. I didn’t trust anyone enough to leave him with them and well... i needed to put a roof over our head.” He sighed . 

I touched his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I understand. I’m glad you’re here. He’ll grow up well in our clan.   “

“And he has a lot of excellent men to look up to here...He needs a good role model, someone kind and amazing who can inspire him to be hardworking and fair. ” He smiled.

I bit my lips.

“I think he’s had that all along. ” I said quietly.

Jungkook’s breath caught for a second and the air between us changed. I licked my lips. 

“Jungkook you’re a good father. You know that right?” I said after a few more seconds of silence. 

He laughed.

“Am I really? I wonder.” 

“He loves you.” I breathed , “  You’re all he talks about.... Today, one of the other kids tried to say that his father was brave because he helped someone who was stuck in an elevator. you know what Joowon did? He listed some twenty different incidents where you’ve helped people out....And he looked so proud.”

Jungkook’s ear looked red in the brightly lit garden. 

“i was just doing my job. Most of those times, I was in danger.” He grunted. 

“And yet, you did the right thing. “ I whispered. “ And your son was watching. And he’s learned the importance of doing the right thing even when you’re scared. That’s a life lesson that isn’t easy to learn.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” He chuckled. I grabbed his arm forcing him to stop. 

I had to tell him this. 

 “ Jungkook, when immortality is on the plate, people don’t give much value to morals. They don’t always care about doing the right thing.... . Its how our kind functions. Consequences don’t mean much when you have a whole eternity to fix your mistakes.....So I always admire vampires who value morals. “ I smiled, “ To see a five year old with such a well formed moral compass... it tells me that you’re an amazing father. Possibly the best I’ve ever met. “ I reached out, to hold his hand, wanting to touch him in some way, to make him believe that I was completely honest. 

“Sera!!!!!!” My sister’s voice made me jump and Jungkook stepped away as well. 

“Dad told me you’re going on a date? I’ve picked out an outfit for you!! But you need to take a shower! You cannot show up smelling like diapers and spit-up.” She called. 

I groaned. 

“Time for the ugly duckling to transform into a swan, I see?” He said gently. 

“Your son’s favorite fairytale.” I whispered.

“He makes me read it every night.” 

“I would like to sit in on that someday.” I laughed.

His eyes met mine. 

“You’re always welcome, Ms Hwang,” He smiled politely. “ Someday soon maybe your kids and my son would be friends.” 

And just like that the wall grew between us. 

His kids and my kids. 

Not our kids because he wasn’t for me. 

He would never be for me. 

I felt the sudden inexplicable urge to cry. 

Turning away, I began following my sister as she waved to me. . 

“I’ll be at your door at seven.” He called out behind me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook vampire au #jungkook vampire #bts vampire au #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

[felswritingfire]

*slams door*

I love your mafia AU Vil x reader

Can I ask for more ??

*Physically Vibrates*

Anon, thank you for my life-

Also if you want a continuation of this (or fluff, I'm just addicted to angst, because apparently I'm a DUMBASS EMO--) or anyone else feel free to ask! I fucking love this AU tbh

(Also no I'm not done with April Brain Rot, I'm just working on one that's like- it's turned big as FUCK- ;0;)

TW: violence; blood; strangulation; uncomfortable vibes; creepy men; cursing

The chime to your door rang loud and clear. A happy bounce to your step as you go to greet the first customer of the day (or Dol and Sul). “Good morning!” You say as you step out from your back room, rounding the corner of your little counter to see the two men who walked in. They’re both big, firm mouths and sharp eyes. Your brows furrow for a moment until you school your expression back into a professional and welcoming smile. “What can I do for you two?”

The one to the right offers you a closed eyed smile. You count the piercings that line the cartilage of his ears as he says: “ah, we were looking for something a little…” His hands trail over the purple fabrics you have. Tapping at a roll of fabric that was lavender, light beige roses outlined in a gold decorating the expanse of it. “Delicate looking.”

Seven. You count, frowning. “Delicate, hm? Anything in particular it’s gonna be used for? A dress? A suit? That might help narrow it down.” You stand next to him, skin pricking with the sensation of eyes boring into you. You fight the urge to glance back.

“A suit. For someone with delicate features. Almost like a porcelain doll.” The man says, his thumb rubbing the patterns of the fabric.

“Are they flashy? You seem to really like that particular one, sir.”

He lets out a laugh, something deep and wispy. You don’t like it. “No. It just reminds me of someone.”

You hum. “Any color you have in mind?”

“Red.”

“Red, huh?” You press your finger to your lips, turning around just to almost walk into the other man. You forgot about him. You gulped as you crane your head to look up at him. A shaky smile making its way onto your lips. “And you, sir? Are you looking for anything in particular?”

He tilted his head, his pupils almost being eaten up by the dark browns of his irises. His frown deepens-

You let out an ugly noise as the air is caught in your throat by the squeeze of a hand around your throat. The chill of his rings burning your skin as he raises you by your neck until your fingers dangle above the floor. “Why don’t we just deal with them?” The man hisses at the way your nails dig into his wrist and he squeezes harder. You can feel the slight bulge of your eyes and the blood rushing to your ears in a panic.

“No, no.” The other’s voice sang out, thin hands coming to wrap around your waist and squeezing. You felt dizzy and sick. “We need answers first- you can’t just expect someone to talk through brute strength all the time, hm?”

“Shut up. If we beat them- they’ll talk.”

“Not if you kill them first.” The one with piercings raises his eyebrows as he watches the way you claw at the ringed man; drool dripping out of the corner of your lips and your eyes squeezing shut, tears slipping from your lashes and onto your red cheeks. He shivered, mouth watering. “I can see why Schoenhiet likes them so much.” His finger traces down your spine and you flail your legs at the uncomfortable shiver that shoots through you.

“D- don’t t- tou- hhh-” you try to choke out only to have the ringed man tighten his grip, your words becoming an awful gurgle.

“Where’s Shoenhiet.” He demands, loosening his grip on your neck.

You gulp down saliva while sucking in air into your aching lungs. “I- I don’t know who- who that is!” Your voice goes high near the end as the grip around your windpipe tightens again.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I- I’m not-”

Your legs kick and you hear the way your bones creek against each other- one thought floating above the panic that floods your body: they can’t know- they can’t know where Vil is.

“You’re going to kill them.”

“They just need to be a little more force.” The ring man tightens his grip to an impossible tightness, his knuckles turning white and the skin around your throat turning a dark purple. A wheeze escapes your open mouth, the edges of your eyes turning blurring into darkness.

You suck in breaths, greedily heaving in huge gulps of air. You’re suddenly dropped to the hard ground, your body landing with a loud thud! And numbing pangs of pain jumping around your bones. You squeeze your eyes shut. A foot settling on your head.

I hope… Vil won’t come.

***

Vil bounced his leg, impatience and something… anxious settling at the bottom of his stomach. The night lights of the city blurred past him out of the window of the limo.

“Roi du Poison, is something bothering you?”

Vil’s eyes drifted to Rook, the hunter unusually stone faced as he waits for him to answer. “And what of you, Rook? You’re not your usual self.”

Rook lets out a quiet laugh. “You didn’t answer my question.” He claps his hands. “But to answer yours- I’m…” his face falls suddenly. “There’s something wrong, non?”

Vil raises his brow.

“I am worried about our tailleur chéri.”

“You too, it seems.” Vil says, his fingers pinching his chin.

Rook hums, cradling his crossed knee in his intertwined hands. His green gaze drifts down to his lap. “I’m afraid.”

Vil’s eyes widened looking up at Rook. “You are?”

He nods. “Dol and Sul… they haven’t heard from them all day.”

“They haven’t?” He could feel his face heat up in barely suppressed frustration.

“You cannot blame them, Roi du Poison. They have been busy with preparations. They’ve been worried sick.”

Vil grows quiet, swallowing, before he turns to the radio type device next to him and presses the red button. “Epel. I need you to take us to (Y/N) Boutique. Make it snappy.”

The radio crackles. “Got it.” Epel’s says. The limo lurching as it picks up speed. Vil could hear the blares of horns outside the car, but he couldn’t seem to care right now. His leg bounces quicker, the anxiety molten in his tummy.

***

The click of Vil’s heels are deafening as he walks into the boutique, Rook and Epel both flanking him. His eyebrows are drawn into a stern angle. He takes a deep breath and his fingers twitch: the sting of copper sinks deep into his senses. Blood.

Vil clenches his hands into fists and leans towards Rook. “Go find them.”

Rook nods, sinking into the shadows.

Vil gestures to Epel and the purple haired boy reaches behind him, pulling out a pistol and clicking off the safety. He stays close to Vil, stepping lightly as they go through the few aisles there was.

Vil’s nose crinkles at how… cold the boutique suddenly seemed. He hated it, this wasn’t your boutique- not the one that he came to adore as soon as he stepped in.

It was a day that started out awful: realizing he was out of his favorite shampoo and conditioner mid showering, Epel being a touch more unreasonable than normal (speeding, acting unruly every time he tried fixing his bow), and to top it off a rookie spilling his favorite smoothie on his favorite suit. He was seething by the time he was out for his evening walk when he stumbled upon the little shop. He had glanced at it a couple of times out of the limo, even on his morning jogs.

He didn’t know what compelled him to walk in, but when he opened the door and stepped in, he took a deep breath, the smell of vanilla and fresh fabrics flooding his senses. He closed his eyes at the warmth that enveloped him.

“Hello!” He turned to see you standing there, a warm smile on your face and you absolutely glowed in the afternoon light. “Is there any way I can help you?”

“Don,” Epel whispered. “The… the counter.”

Vil glanced at the corner of the polished counter: red glistening under the light from the street lamps outside. He grimaced, gaze trailing down the edge of the counter to the floor. Drips of red splattered across the tile in small specks and towards the back room. His eyes widened.

“Vil.” Rook stood in the doorway of the backroom, his eyes drooping into something mournful.

The man broke into a sprint, his long legs carrying him there in a few steps. Rook makes room for him, his hand coming to settle on Vil’s back.

The breath is knocked out of him when he lays his eyes on your broken body. Your arms were tied behind your back with ribbon. He didn’t miss the fact that they were purple- a light lavender with gold accents. The blood was smeared across your face, already caking with dry blood. Your hair disheveled, white dress shirt stained with red and blurry pink, and your neck a thick ring of ugly, dark bruises. Your mouth half agape as you're curled up on the floor in splatters of blood underneath you.

He takes trembling steps forwards. The click of his heels uneven and obnoxiously loud as he makes his way to you, his head pounding. There was no way… no way this was happening.

You had nothing to do with this. Nothing. Just an innocent bystander in the midst of things. One that he was waiting to spend more time with. One that was special.

He didn't even realize he was grinding his teeth until he saw your eyes flutter open. “Vil?” you mumbled through a bruised jaw. Your hands, heavy like lead, reached to touch his face. He caught your hand in his. “Vil! You’re… you’re ok…” You smile up to him the best you can, your eyes heavy and bleary with exhaustion.

“Who did this, my Sweet Potato? Tell me who.” Vil pressed you close to his chest, turning to gesture to Rook and Epel who nodded.

You hum, pressing your cheek into him and taking a deep breath. “You’re ok…”

Vil can feel the way the tears catch in his throat, an awful choking thing. He cleared his throat. “Who did this to you?”

“They kept… asking ‘bout you but I didn’t… say nothin’... Nothin’ at all.” You mumble against him, voice raspy like it had rocks stuck in your throat.

“Why? Why didn’t you? You didn’t have to do that.” He almost laughs at how he feels a happy blush warm your cheeks. He dips his head closer to your ear, his lips almost brushing against the shell of it as he speaks. “You’re not even mine, my Sweet Potato.”

A giggle leaves you, tired and quiet. “I… I can change that… very quickly, Mr. Schoenhiet.”

He laughs, pressing his soft lips against your blooded cheek as Rook and Epel rush back in with his medic, Dol and Sul, pushing behind him to see you, both clamoring with emotion.

#answered! #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagine #twst #twst x reader #twst imagine #twst vil #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #x reader #reader imagine #SFW #gender nuetral reader #non bianry reader #not a reblog #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: strangulation #tw: creepy men #Idk why the hell I tag cursing #I curse all the time on this blog jsdlkjdfklds #anyway #PLEASE ASK FOR MORE #I'M BEGGING YOU #I FUCKING LOVE THIS AU #LIKE #HMMHMHMHMMHMMM #It makes me go BRRRRRRR #mafia au

[dr3amofagame]

Sooo... how about that reveal that c!Sam wasn’t feeding c!Dream? I mean, we all knew it was coming, but still. The auto food dispenser probably broke or smtg bc when c!Sam came down, c!Dream asked if he was there to give them potatoes. (Also with him being shaken up by learning c!Tommy is alive, c!Sam might not remember or care to feed c!Dream, who has none of his stores of potatoes left.) So, assuming the dispenser is broken and he doesn’t know, why would he come down in the first place? 🟩⛏?

hello anon !! yeah that reveal ,, dang, we already knew that c!sam had presumably been starving c!dream, but to see not only c!dream but c!sam confirm it as well as it having lasted AT LEAST a week ,, d a n g . they are Not pulling any punches in this arc (which, i mean, judging on the q stream, isnt exactly surprising anymore,, but still)

in the prison guard stream, we see how the dispenser works - it’s not automatic as much as it’s remote, as c!sam or the prison guards still need to press a button in order to dispense food. he also says “i havent even been around to feed the prisoner” or something along those lines in tommy’s stream, so we can conclude that the decision to deprive c!dream of food after c!tommy’s death is INTENTIONAL,, which i mean. again. yikes. 

anyway, here’s a snippet of c!dream finding out that the “automatic” feeder isnt as automatic as he might’ve thought - here, the dispenser + crying obsidian are installed at around the same time, so it’s between bad and sapnap’s visit

tw: starvation, disordered eating, abuse, mental illness, self-hatred, toxic relationship, gaslighting, disturbing imagery, dark content, c!sam/warden!sam critical (again, be careful with the content warnings)

Dream stares up at the hole in the obsidian, barely able to make out a glint of metal in the dark chute. The dispenser, just as expected, doesn’t respond to his glare, refuses to whir and click in the way that indicates food, and Dream bites his tongue, mumbles curses under his breath.

“Prick,” he blows a breath through his gritted teeth, only more irrationally angry when the dispenser, as expected, ignores him. “Some automatic dispenser, Warden.”

The walls don’t respond. Nothing responds, here, besides the dark dark thoughts swirling in his brain, and he thinks he’d prefer it if those didn’t - or maybe he doesn’t, because company is company, even if said company is the same litany of blood anger revenge pain you deserve this you deserve all of this you have destroyed the world now lie in the bed you have made pounding at the base of his skull. He drags his hand down his face; every minute is an hour, and every hour is a minute. Time has no meaning when your only frame of reference is eternity.

Even so, even he can tell that it’s been a long time since he’s had food, even by his usual standards - several days, at least, because the ever-present ache of hunger in his gut had swelled into something angrier, demanding, no longer as easy to ignore. Another stabbing round of pain nearly sends him to his knees, and just as he always he does, he clings to the feeling, gathers it into his hands, grabs it by the edges and directs the sharp edges into the words he spits at the indifferent walls. Let the Warden hear him - what can he possibly do?

Just as it always does, the fury in him peters out, drains, leaves him alone in the middle of his cell. He sinks the ground, arms wrapped around his stomach; a part of him wants to laugh at the irony. Some people think of silence as emptiness, void; he knows now that it’s anything but. Silence is suffocating, thick, so present that anything he says seems to get lost within it seconds after leaving his mouth. It grows and pushes into his limbs, becomes a weight tied around his throat, expands into the air in his lungs like a slowly inflating balloon until it’s pressed into every corner and space of the cell, every corner and space of him, taking up so much room that he can hardly breathe around it.

The hunger hollows him out, and the silence fills the space that’s left; Dream wonders how much more there is for him to lose before he’s completely empty, just a husk filled with the same liquid misery that drips down the walls. He wonders if anyone would care- laughs. As if.

“Dream.” The intercom crackles; Dream perks up at the voice, spine straightening against his will, and his hands tighten into fists as he realizes - prime, how pathetic is he, now? The voice deepens, becomes more insistent. “Prisoner.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Or maybe I’m not; you better come and check, yeah?” A humorless smile tugs at his lips, and a static-filled sigh comes through the speaker.

“This isn’t the time for games, Dream.”

Dream rolls his eyes. It’s not exactly the time to be a dick, either, but you don’t see me complaining. A flutter of something warm, joyful, rises in his chest at the sound of something- someone, other than his own voice, and he strangles it with a hand wrapped around his own throat - he won’t let them break him, won’t let himself become desperate enough to crave the attention of a man that hates him - he won’t- he can’t-

“Do you need something? Or were you yelling at the wall for no reason again?” Sam’s voice is steely, indifferent, on a knife’s edge between apathy and anger. “Don’t waste my time, prisoner.”

Dream bites down the snarky reply sitting on his tongue, breathes in, out through his nose until the fury is no longer blinding.

“Your fancy automatic jig is broken. The potato one. It’s not- working.” The hunger fogs his mind, makes it hard to think. He feels caged and weak and pathetic and he hates it.

“That’s because it’s not automatic.” Footsteps echo on the speakers, Dream tapping along to the rhythm before he realizes and stops himself, and a moment later the familiar whirring and clicking of the metal box comes from behind him and a small pile of potatoes fall down and splash into the water. “There. Is that all?”

Dream feels the fury rise, again, but doesn’t quite to keep the words back, this time.

“So what was the point of the whole automatic feeder, asshole? You’ve changed nothing! What’s the difference between that thing and you coming over to my cell besides that you’ve wasted a couple stacks of redstone? Congratu-fucking-lations, you’re a goddamn genius-”

“It’s remote now, so I don’t have to come into your cell.”

“Oh, so it’s just the good ol’ Warden looking for more ways to make the prisoner suffer, huh? Should’ve figured, you fucking self-righteous prick-”

“Dream.”

His mouth shuts with a click, a flash of fear searing through his muscles, white-hot, and by the time he’s blinked back the ringing in his ears the silence has stolen all the words from him, once again. Pathetic, he screams in his head, but his jaw remains firmly locked in place - the Warden’s won, per usual, and they both know it.

“Is that all?” He sounds impatient. Part of Dream wants nothing more than to never hear his voice again, and the other half of him rails at the idea of being alone with his thoughts once more. All of him hates himself, and all of him hates the silence; they’re the only two constants in this place. “You’ll have to speak up if you want anything.”

“How- long was it, since you last gave food?”

Static for a moment, then another. “It’s only been about a day.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’d know if you took care of your clock instead of destroying it, prisoner.”

“I’d know if you were less of a fucking prick.”

“Behave, and you might get it replaced.” The Warden’s breathing is harsh, almost labored - he must be angrier than Dream thought, then. “Speaking of which, you won’t be getting any for a day after this stunt.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared. It’s not like you don’t do this - what, every other day?”

“Do you want food or not?”

Dream’s teeth grind against each other; he breathes in, out. He hates this, hates the potatoes, hates the Warden, hates himself. Hates the way that a part of him recoils at the thought of making the Warden angry at him, reaches desperately for a chance to earn his clock- his approval. Attachments are weakness, he tells his traitorous heart, knowing that it, as always, will fail to stay away.

“Yes. Thank you.” The pleasantry burns on his tongue, tastes worse than the bitterness of raw potatoes that seems to be the only thing it knows, anymore.

“Good-bye, prisoner. Don’t make me come into the cell.”

The intercom cuts off with a click, the space that the static made immediately filled by silence. Dream watches it blankly, jaw sore from how tight it had been clenched, and begins to work his way through the first potato, nibbling at the pale flesh just enough to tide over the worst of the pain.

This is fine, he tells himself, and the walls stare at him impassively. He’s not sure they believe him.

He’s not sure how much longer he can believe himself.

#tw starvation #tw disordered eating #tw abuse #tw mental illness #tw self-hate #tw toxic relationship #tw gaslighting #tw disturbing imagery #tw dark content #c!sam critical #warden!sam critical #sorry sam #but starving people is still very not pogchamp #queue <3 #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 7th - Blindness

Gift fic for @sassydefendorflower

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Head Injury, slight descriptions of blood

---

Slade dodges under the swinging blow of Blüdhaven’s newest sewer monster; born from whatever chemicals a rat has gotten into near some chemist-based super-villain’s old hideout. Now, while it’s not everyday Slade goes out of his way to take down various monsters across the ‘Haven, this time… he feels a little obligated to.

Yes, he is the reigning champion of being Nightwing’s least favorite and most powerful villain, but unfortunately Nightwing is Slade’s favorite and most interesting opponent. He came to the ‘Haven to give the kid a head’s up that he has a mark in the city; a regular challenge he likes to set for the kid to try and stop him. However, when he didn’t find Nightwing along any of his normal routes, nor in his apartment, he turned to the news to see if the kid had left for Gotham or some other city without him noticing; preparing to postpone this mark until he was back in his patron city and away from other bats.

It was then he noticed the breaking news that a giant, sewage themed rat was wreaking havoc under Blüdhaven’s streets in the downtown areas, near a major subway platform. Nightwing was spotted going in, telling people to stay out, and he hasn’t been seen since.

Of course, Slade went to the fight, and it’s a good thing he did. When he got there, he found Nightwing limp in the creature’s tail, held inches from it’s long and jagged front teeth. Blood trailed down the side of his skull in a steady flow. Slade knew immediately he was unconscious.

He took out one of his pistols and shot at the rat, but the monster was so large and feral it hardly did anything when it went into its arm. It dropped Nightwing like a sack of flour onto the ground, snarling as it turned to it’s newest threat, drool dripping down it’s snout. Slade pulled out his swords and faced it head on.

The creature, while lacking any intelligence, was fast and powerful. Even Slade had trouble ducking under its tail that it used like a club and avoiding its powerful legs and jaw. While it’s disappointing to see Nightwing taken down by a creature as low as this, he can’t exactly blame the kid when it takes himself several minutes to finally get his sword through the thing’s tail. He cuts off the appendage, then while the monster screeches in agony, he pierces its throat.

It goes down twitching and gurgling, its blood bubbling down into the sewer's already questionable streams of water. He whips his swords out, getting off a majority of the wretched blood, then heads over to his unconscious person of interest.

Nightwing doesn’t move as he kneels down beside him, in fact he’s still in the rather undignified position he had been dropped in. Frowning, Slade moves Nightwing into a better position that won't strain his spine and smacks his face lightly to wake him up. He doesn’t even twitch, causing Slade to frown more. His head is still bleeding, which is worrisome. He grabs a tube of smelling-salts from his pouch—usually used to wake up people he’s previously knocked out to get some information out of them—and firmly places it under Nightwing’s nose. A solid few seconds pass before Nightwing’s eyes shoot open under his domino mask; his hands fly out to his face to stifle coughs and he rocks forward so he’s sitting instead of laying down.

Slade doesn’t try to make conversation quite yet, more worried about that head injury. He holds Nightwing by the jaw to tilt his head and get a better look, but Nightwing reacts like the touch was electrified. He smacks Slade’s arms away and jumps to his feet, stumbling back and holding out a single escrima. Slade doesn’t know where the other one went.

“Sit back down,” Slade growls, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Nightwing flinches at the initial sound of his voice, his mouth dropping open in shock before lowering his single weapon slightly.

“Slade?” he asks, his voice slurred.

Slade resists sighing, and lifts his eyebrow. Who else would it be? It’s not that dark here, even with Slade’s heightened senses. Nightwing doesn’t relax completely though, as if waiting for an answer. Not for the first time that night, another spike of worry rises in his chest.

“Kid, sit down or I’ll make you sit down.”

Nightwing almost goes boneless after that, breathing a single ”thank fuck” before sinking to his ass and putting his head in his hands with a groan.

Now Slade does sigh, even rolling his eyes as he does so, as he once again approaches Nightwing and grabs onto his face to look at the wound. Nightwing hisses and flinches out of his grasp.

“Don’t,” he says, “I already know how bad it is.”

Slade hums, folding his arms across his chest. “How bad is it then?”

Nightwing remains quiet for a moment, biting his lip, perhaps internally fighting with himself on whether or not it’s a good idea to tell one of his biggest enemies about how injured he is. Eventually, Nightwing makes the smart choice and speaks anyway, knowing Slade will find no pleasure in ending him if he's already down.

“Head feels like a war-drum. Feel like ‘m gonna throw up. Voice slurred… ears ringing… I-” Nightwing hesitates. Then sighs. “I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” Slade repeats, kneeling down to once again take Nightwing’s face in his hands. Nightwing fights the grasp, but this time Slade holds strong and takes off the mask, revealing unfocused electric-blues.

“Nothing, it’s all black,” Nightwing whispers, a slight wobble in his voice that Slade is sure he’s trying to keep down.

He grabs a small flashlight from his tools and shines it in Nightwing’s eyes, frowning as there’s hardly any reaction in the pupils. He clicks off the light and releases Nightwing, thinking of options.

He’s sure the last thing the kid’ll want is to get dumped at the hospital, but Slade’s no medical expert, especially with something as fragile as a normal human’s brain.

He sighs, as only one option realistically reveals itself. The last thing Slade wants to do is risk Nightwing going home all on his own and possibly making this blindness permanent when there could be something that can be done to help him. Nightwing is a competent, talented young man, which is why he’s so intriguing to Slade—and while he has all the faith that Nightwing will find a way to fight even if his sight is forever gone, Slade also knows the loss of sense will be a major blow to the kid’s moral for months to come. He’s seen how far Nightwing can fall with helplessness and depression plaguing him, and honestly the thrill of fighting him leaves when his fire is replaced with a desperateness to prove to himself that he’s still worth something. He needs Nightwing to have a steady support system, and help for this injury.

Nightwing is going to hate him for a while after this, but Slade has no choice. He doesn’t fight against Nightwing to kill him, but because those fights are the only thing that brings a fun challenge. For how human Nightwing is, he fights like a beast, and Slade can’t lose that.

“Up,” he says while returning the kid’s mask; he grabs Nightwing by the arm and lifts him to his feet. Nightwing groans, but doesn’t fight too badly as Slade firmly wraps his arm around Slade’s shoulders. “Where is the best place to exit this place without being spotted?”

Nightwing, with the complexion of the inside of an avocado, talks him through on where to go. He looks one small fit of nausea away from throwing up all over Slade’s armor.

Luckily, he keeps it in his stomach—perhaps the discomfort in his body being something more desirable to deal with than a vomit covered Slade—and by the time they make it out of a small, boarded up and abandoned, exit to the subway line, Slade lets the kid take a break by the nearest dumpster. Nightwing, the poor thing, must have lost everything he’s eaten today in those fifteen minutes.

Now that he’s out below Blüdhaven’s night sky, he’s now the one in charge of leading the way. Nightwing stumbles along blindly—hah—never letting go of his weak grasp around Slade’s neck and shoulders.

Finally, they make it to where Slade has parked the car he had taken into the city. The windows are all tinted to near-illegal levels, but Slade still stuffs Nighting in the back-seats and hands him a bucket he had in the trunk that previously held a few hundred bullets from when he bought them in bulk.

“Throw up on the seats and I’m making you buy me a new car.”

“Bet this one was stolen anyway,” Nightwing mumbles, curled up in the backseats with the bucket touching his stomach like a flu-ridden child.

Slade scoffs and closes the door after reminding him to keep his head down but to stay awake. He takes off his Deathstroke mask, then the top bits of his armor, and shoves them in the truck. Then, after he gets in the driver's seat, they’re off.

Getting out of downtown Blüdhaven should be the hardest part of all of this; both for Slade’s navigation skills and for Nightwing’s gag-reflex. Eventually, however, they make it out of the twists and turns of downtown and eventually make it onto the main roads of the city—still crowded with cars coming too and from various ass-awful shifts of work. Nightwing remains quite agreeable in the backseats, responding that he’s awake every time Slade calls for a status report (about every five-ten minutes), and groaning at every turn no matter how slow Slade takes them.

However, that agreeableness quickly leaves the boy when Slade enters the on-ramp connecting to the north-south interstate.

Kid almost makes himself throw up by how quickly he scrambles to a sitting position; ignoring Slade's commands to lay back down.

“Turn around,” Nightwing growls. And it’s a strong growl too, reminds Slade of a chihuahua. Shaking and all.

“You’re currently blind, you have no idea where-”

“I know the roads of my city, Slade. And you’re leaving it.”

Slade sighs and merges into traffic, then uses one hand to shove Nightwing back town onto the seats. “Keep down, a cop will see you.”

“Where are you taking me?”

Slade remains silent.

“Tell me it’s a secret mansion somewhere and you have your own personal doctor that can help. Or you know a guy that happens to be down south. Or-”

“I’m taking you to Gotham,” Slade says, ripping off the band-aid.

Nightwing looks all sorts of emotions in the span of a few seconds. The one he settles on, however, is anger.

“No.”

“Batman gets injured all the time,” Slade begins to explain, but Nightwing looks frantic now.

“No, don’t take me back- I’ve worked so hard to get him to see that I can do things without him- and he has a new kid now and-”

“Suck it up,” Slade growls. “Deal with it. I’m not like you, kid. I don’t know how to take care of a normal human, and I definitely don’t know anyone who can because I have no need to. What you need is a doctor that can treat you off the record, who knows about your nightlife. Batman has that, doesn’t he.”

It’s not a question, but Nightwing’s silence is still an answer.

“Whatever your old man thinks of you for coming back injured doesn’t matter in the end. Nor does the new kid. What you should worry more about is what I think of you after this. You’re not fighting Batman, you’re fighting me.”

“What if he doesn’t let me fight after this?” Nightwing… Dick whispers as he finally lays back down on the seats. He’s taken his mask off and is rubbing his eyes, perhaps quelling tears or a headache. Perhaps both. “What if my sight doesn’t come back? What if he retires me?”

Slade remains silent for a second, then answers as firmly as he can. “I’ve known plenty of formidable enemies who are missing a sense. You’ll find a way to get back up, and if he doesn’t let you then I’ll just have to break in, kidnap you, and train you myself.”

That startles a laugh out of Dick. “I thought you were no longer trying to get me to be your apprentice.”

Slade shrugs, allowing a smile on his lips, selfishly comforted that Dick couldn’t see it. “You have a lot of potential, kid, I’d rather you use it against me than not at all. I’ll train you and release you like the bird you are, and we can get back to the same ol’ dance we have.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah… okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

-o-o-o-o-

Slade parks the car in an old neighborhood in Gotham that has a considerable drop in crime compared to the rest of the city. All things considered. Though, the sun is beginning to rise and Slade’s positive the Bat knew he was in his city the second he drove into it. Dick knows this too, as he’s telling Slade to hurry up and get out of here despite the boy still looking green around the gills. Slade grabs his mask and armor, then turns to the stolen car he’s about to abandon and opens the back door near Dick’s face.

Suddenly, and rather embarrassingly, he doesn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Dick is a freaky empath sometimes and gives an exhausted smile.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll get through this.”

“Good,” Slade replies. “I won't let you quit.”

His grin widens. “Never.”

Then Slade closes the door and takes off quickly, only pausing on a distant roof to watch a large black figure and a smaller red-and-yellow clad child approach the car and catch sight of the injured bird inside.

From there, Slade turns and leaves, not looking back.

He’ll see Nightwing on the battlefield again. No matter what, Slade will make sure of it.

#dick grayson #nightwing #slade wilson #deathstroke #batman #whumptober2021 #no.6 #blindness #fanfiction #jin writes

[babbushka]

Another Adventure

Flip Zimmerman x Reader x Kylo Ren 

2.4k; NSFW (Threesome MMF, dom/sub undertones (dom!Kylo, dom!Flip), rough PIV, rough oral sex (M receiving), name-calling, gagging, begging, overstimulation, sloppy seconds/come sharing) 

Available on AO3

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

The evening was going wonderfully so far. Your friends and family were all gathered at the Organa-Solo house, bellies were filled with good food and warm drinks, Matt had played some tunes on the piano that had everyone dancing in the living room, laughter all around. The candles on the menorah are nearly halfway melted, marking the hours that have been passing with joy and love. Flip’s got you on his lap, the both of you tucked up on the couch together. He’s chewing on some gum, because Kylo doesn’t like anyone smoking in his house, and Flip respects that.

You can tell though, that he’s starting to get antsy, starting to get a little irritated just from the lack of nicotine that he’s so used to. You can tell by the way his grip on your body is tightening, one of his hands squeezing at your inner thigh – a simple motion to ground himself in the present.

He doesn’t realize, but that hand on your thigh keeps creeping further and further towards a very indecent place, and it’s been getting you wound up in your own right. You thought you could hold off, thought that you could wait until he brings you back home to beg for it, but his hand squeezes at you again, and it’s the last straw.

“Flip.” You turn to whisper in his ear, biting at your lip as your thighs discreetly try to rub together.

“Hmm?” Flip meets your gaze, totally unaware of your state. It isn’t until he really looks at you that he sees your pupils blown wide and dark with lust, your chest starting to heave from the harshness of your breathing.

“If you don’t fuck me in the next five minutes I think I might cry.” You nip lightly at his earlobe, and his jaw clenches down into a firm line that tells you you’re going to get exactly what you want.

Without preamble, he gives your back a nudge, and you get the hint to stand up and get off his lap. You know Kylo’s house well, you’ve spent so much time there after all, you know exactly where the guest bedroom is upstairs. No one notices as you silently slip away, hands already working at the buttons of your dress as soon as you’re out of the immediate line of sight.

Flip joins you in the guest bedroom only moments later, and you’re glad for his immediacy because you’re not so sure you could’ve waited another minute. His hands are on your face, grasping your cheeks and kissing you deeply, the gum spit out on his way to you.

“Let me see your tits, now.” He orders, and the tone of his voice goes straight to your dripping drooling pussy, soaking through your panties.

A shiver runs up your spine as you undo the front clasp of your bra, letting the cups fall away from your breasts so they’re on proud display through the open buttons of your bodice.

Flip immediately smooths his big palms over them and pinches and squeezes, your nipples so stiff and sensitive as he takes one into your mouth and sucks hard, making you moan.

“Jesus you’re a slut tonight, aren’t you?” Flip pulls away and turns you around, bending you over so you can brace yourself on the mattress. He pushes the skirt of your dress up, and tugs your panties to the side.

He unzips his trousers and tugs out his cock, gives it a couple strokes before rubbing the head of his cock through your sopping wet folds. You whine and press your hips back back back onto his cock, taking him easily, which was no easy feat. The sheets are fresh and well-made, he would hate to rumple them too much, so a quickie will have to do to get you satisfied long enough for him to take you home.

“Look how fuckin’ wet you are ketsl, I don’t even have to finger you for it.” Flip whistles low as he keeps one palm steady on your lower back, your knees pinching in as your cunt swallows him hungrily.

Your shoulders drop and you rest more fully on the mattress, sighing deeply as Flip bottoms out all the way inside you in only two thrusts. Hips squirming just a little to adjust to the girth of him, you can’t help but moan.

“I know, I know Flip please I want to get fucked so bad.” You whine, hands grabbing at the comforter and fisting it in twisting motions, your voice hiccupping around an, “Haven’t I been good all evening?”

“No, you’ve been a brat.” Flip lies, saying it only because that’s what you want to hear, that’s what’ll get you wet – and it works. Your pussy flutters around his cock as he starts to thrust, slow and deep at first, just getting you used to the feeling of the stretch, “You’ve been a very bad girl, ketsl. I shouldn’t give you my cock at all.”

“Please!” You drool into the comforter, thighs shaking, wanting more, wanting him to go faster rougher harder deeper, “Philly please, I – ”

“I know honey-bunny, I’ve got you, I’m right here.” Flip drapes himself over your back and kisses at your neck, sucks and bites on the spot where your throat meets your shoulder, teeth fitting perfectly as his hands grip your hips.

He begins to thrust in earnest then, pushing and pulling his cock in and out, in and out, all the way to the hilt on each shove of his cock against your walls, your pussy spasming and fluttering, so wet and tight and hot and velvety around him. Your eyes roll back into your head and you moan moan moan, muffled into the mattress where your face is pressed against it.

“Oh! Oh yes, yesyesyes right there!” You babble, pussy coating his cock with slick as he plows into you, makes the box spring squeak from the effort.

“Fuck this pussy’s good,” Flip grunts as he lets himself get lost in the feeling of your cunt, hands holding you steady, “I’ve got you, I’ll give you what you want.”

“Thank you! Ah – ah Flip, Flip, harder!” You beg, “Harder please!”

“Shh, we gotta be quiet, or else we’ll – ” Flip casts an anxious look to the door, because he swears for a second that he can hear footsteps out in the hall.

He’s too wrapped up in you to stop or pull out of you when the doorknob turns and the thing opens just wide enough for Kylo to slip into the room. He doesn’t look happy, and Flip doesn’t blame him. He also doesn’t stop fucking you, much to Kylo’s annoyance.

“Fuck you guys, you know that?” Kylo hisses, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the party down on the other level of the house, “We can hear you downstairs.”

You for your part, are just happy to see him, your other favorite mensch.

“H-hi Ky.” You beam up at him, blissed out of your mind already, voice trembling from the force of Flip’s cock thrusting in and out of you.

“Hey baby girl.” He settles himself up onto the bed and rests on his knees, pulling you up onto your hands so that he can kiss you sweetly, never one to actually get too angry with you.

“I told you ketsl, didn’t I tell you?” Flip tsks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and lightly smacks the back of your thigh, cock grinding as far into you as you can go, pitching your whole body forward.

Your mouth presses more firmly against Kylo’s from the motion, and he’s already grabbing and fondling at your breasts from where they bounce, hanging out of your dress bodice.

“Uhhh-hhuhh,” You agree, already making out with Kylo, mouth just happy to be put to work. You yelp a little though, when Flip grazes your gspot at the same time that one of his hands curls around your hip to rub at your clit, “Oh -- Flip!”

“C’mon, open up.” Kylo shakes his head, undoes the buckle of his belt and unzips his trousers, “We gotta gag that pretty mouth of yours with something, don’t we?”

“Make sure she can breathe.” Flip instructs, before leaning over you and caressing your jaw, your throat gently. “Are you comfortable? Neck okay?”

“Mmhmm,” You press a chaste kiss to his palm and give him a big hazy smile over your shoulder.

Kylo’s dick is pretty equal in size to Flip’s, maybe a little shorter but definitely just as thick and veiny. Your moans and sighs and hiccupping whines have Kylo rock hard, cock curving up towards his stomach, his cut head flushed a deep dark red.

“Good girl, be good and suck his cock.” Flip orders, making your pussy flutter around him as he slows down to a steady rhythm so you don’t accidentally choke on Kylo.

Your mouth drops open and your eyes are wide and wet, chest heaving in earnest now as Kylo guides his cock up to your lips. You kiss and suck and lick at his cock, tongue tracing over the veins and dipping into the slit before you wrap your lips around it and slowly start to take him further and further down your throat.

When Flip can’t wait any more, he picks up his pace one again, balls smacking against your ass loudly as he rubs at your clit and rails you, pushing you forward onto Kylo’s cock. Immediately, your noises are muffled, but the slick squelch of your bodies fills the air instead, steams up the windows and the mirror on the dresser, makes you all sweat in your clothes.

Your neck bulges out the hard line of his cock, deep-throating him as tears of pleasure and overwhelming lust spill down your cheeks. Your pussy throbs around Flip’s cock, and they work in tandem, when Flip pushes in, Kylo pulls out. Together they bring you closer closer closer to coming, your body trembling and shaking and jolting with pleasure in their capable hands.

“Such a spoiled princess, getting filled up from – oh fuck – from both ends.” Kylo grunts as he bottoms out, fucking your face slowly and carefully. He’s got one hand in your hair, holding your head as he rocks his hips back and forth.

“Oh she’s spoiled alright.” Flip agrees, making you whine and hum and moan around the dicks that are spearing into you, your body starting to seize up, clenching down hard as your pleasure builds and builds and builds, making Flip curse, “Who could say no to this – shit, ketsl do that again.”

“Hhhmmm,” You try, moaning low in your chest, the vibrations going straight up through Kylo’s cock and up into his spine, spreading through all his nerves as he pets your hair back, pets at your tear-streaked cheek.

Your eyes shut tight and you sob out your orgasm, whole body writhing, making both men still their hips immediately so you don’t get hurt. The crash of it has you nearly blacking out, and Kylo pulls out of your throat so you can gasp and gulp down air, your arms collapsing down underneath you.

“Can I come in her?” Kylo jerks himself off, his own body twitching and growing warm, stomach tensing and nerves singing, veins blazing.

“Just a minute, just let me – oh fuck, fuck – ” Flip blows his load in you, hot and thick, filling your cunt up as he continues to thrust into you, his finger still rubbing your clit, milking your orgasm for as much as he can. His other hand clamps down over your mouth so no one can hear you crying out little babbling whimpering sounds, and after a minute or two, Flip pulls away from your body, letting Kylo take his place,  “Okay, you better not get a fucking drop on her, this is a brand new dress.”

“I – I won’t, sir.” Kylo replies, his cock immediately nudging into your pussy and thrusting in and out, pushing and fucking Flip’s come deeper into you, until Kylo is coming too, adding his load to the mix.

Flip turns your face towards his and kisses you deeply, swallowing your pretty moans and cries as Kylo comes and comes in you. Flip rubs your stomach and praises you for taking them so well, but you’re too out of it to really notice, instead just kissing Flip sloppily and giving him a big dreamy smile and a breathy, “I love you guys.”

“Yeah you fuckin’ better.” Kylo grunts, pulling out of your pussy once he’s sure he’s done. He tucks your panties back into place, watches as the mess of come immediately begins to seep into the fabric there. It’s a good thing Kylo has a couple pairs of your underwear stashed in his bedroom, he’ll probably have to go get you one to last you through the rest of the party.

“Love you too ketsl.” Flip smiles at you warmly, tucking his cock back into his trousers, buttoning himself back up. “Can you stand?”

“In a second, fuck that was good.” You slur your words, and neither man is convinced, but you had a pretty good refractory period, and you’re already becoming more and more sharp as you ask Kylo, “We didn’t miss anything important, did we?”

“Nah, Ben and Matt are wrestling over the last bite of kugel.” Kylo kisses you, pulls you upright to snuggle against his chest, as Flip rubs your thigh – the thing that got you into this damn mess to begin with.

“Aw fuck, I wanted more kugel.” You groan, kissing each of your boys, smiling when they kiss each other.

“Well, tomorrow is another adventure.” Kylo says, standing up and holding out a hand for you to take as leverage.

Flip helps keep you steady with a strong arm around your waist, the three of you heading to the guest bathroom to clean up properly before rejoining the party. Despite coming so hard that you were seeing stars, you don’t look too disheveled – nothing some face wash and a hairbrush couldn’t fix.

And as you rejoin the festivities of the party, as Ben immediately starts yelling about how Hux was cheating at dreidel, as you notice Mattie eating the last bite of kugel, you give your boys a cheeky grin, thinking that you just can’t wait to see what you’ll get up to tomorrow night.

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman/reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo ren/flip zimmerman/reader #kylo ren smut #flip zimmerman smut #blackkklansman #adam driver fanfiction #adcu

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do. 

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  angst.  general.    

tags / warnings.  the angst is heavy in this chapter.  there’s also mentions of drunk driving, a reference to drug use, and really, just a lot of sadness.  proceed with caution! 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ and @periminkle​ i lob you both! 

wc.  2.8k

chapter one.

You’ve barely moved an inch, rooted to the spot by fear and sadness and three long years of distance.  It feels far too strange to be so close, to see him somewhere other than an illuminated screen.  You know you should say something, do something - anything - but every tired bone in your body is telling you to run and that’s something you can’t do.  Not after you’ve come so far. 

So you take a deep breath - deep as you can manage without bursting the dam that packs itself with flimsy sticks and stones - and step forward.  It feels monumental, far more than a single footfall. 

He’s watching you, carefully, as he’s always done, with awe written into every line still visible beneath bandages.  You see the way his jaw tenses, how the muscle works in agitation and hopelessness.  He’s holding himself back, much to your surprise.  You think you only recognize that because you know him so well.

And then you remember - you don’t know him at all.  Not anymore.

Because he might seem like the same boy you’ve loved for most of your life, but he’s nothing but a ghost now.  A figure from your worst nightmares, draped in white linen and gauze.  

His hair’s far longer than it’s ever been, sweeping over the sharp contours of his cheeks, past the singular scar he’d gotten in third grade.  It curls over his ears even in its dishevelled state, looking in desperate need of a cut and yet endearing all at once. The way he stares at you remains the same - intense, achingly familiar - and his smile - a little battered and bruised now - stretches like pavement, concrete and grounding.  

You hate that it does something to your heart, the delicate frame of your rib cage rattling with the way the organ nearly launches itself out of your throat and into his hands.

You take another step.  Jungkook doesn’t look away.  

“I missed you,”  he says, as if you’re an old friend, someone who’s come to hold his hand.  As if he hadn’t broken your heart into a million pieces and this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him since you managed to piece it back together.  

How you’d managed to rebuild yourself after that, you’re not sure.  You’d collected the broken bits, filled the cracks with gold, and mended it into something different.  A bit flawed and imperfect, but whole - stronger and illuminated.  You’d done that all on your own.

That doesn’t mean it doesn't still beat for him, just a little.  

A part of you aches to return his words.  It’s halfway off your tongue when you cut it off, severing it with a bite of your teeth and a resolve that just barely holds on.

You reach his side - still a good foot from the edge of the bed - and settle into the worn leather chair to his right.  It’s comfortable, surprisingly so, but you can’t find it in yourself to relax.  You’re ramrod straight, line of your spine strung like a bow.

It’s hard to look at him directly - to recognize the parts of him you’d once called yours - so you don’t, instead allowing your gaze to bounce across the room.  There are large bouquets of flowers against the few surfaces, all larger-than-life arrangements that look at odds with the barren body that’s laid up beside you.  You wonder, idly, who they’re from.  Friends?  Family?  Your heart stutters.  Fans?

There’s a bag and personal effects on the couch.  Black leather, exorbitantly expensive, embossed with his initials on the interior pocket.  The gift you’d gotten him for your last anniversary - the same one he’d nearly lost on tour despite the fact that it cost you more than you’d have cared to admit.  Something like anger simmers in your stomach at the sight of it.

When he speaks again, you’re still glaring at the bag, unable to tear your eyes from the supple material and all the memories it carries.  

“Pumpkin?”  

The nickname tears you from your reverie.  You can’t help the way you suddenly stare at him - all wide-eyed surprise.  “What?”

Something close to relief floods his expression, spilling like wet paint over the curve of his mouth, the corners of his eyes.  It spreads delight into every inch, unrelenting and unrepentant.  “I said I missed you, Pumpkin.”  He repeats himself not because you haven’t heard him but because he wants that reaction again - the one that tells him everything he needs to know.

You resent him for it.    

“Please don’t call me that.”  You wish it were stronger - that you were stronger.  It’s hard.

You know you shouldn’t love him anymore and that none of this should affect you.  After all, he’d thrown your heart into a blender with three shots of vodka and chased it down with some pills and cigarette smoke.  He’d filled all the space you’d given him with other things - riches and women and thin white lines - and he’d had the audacity to be surprised when your own sadness had slipped in, too. 

He’d always imagined you’d keep it locked up, held so closely he’d never have to face it.  You’d thought so to, really.  Hadn’t expected the way it spilled out regardless, too much misery to be kept in a little glass house. 

There was only so much you could take before it all came crumbling down. 

So, it’s hard.  You love him because he’s him and you’re you and that means more than you can possibly put into words.

“Don’t call you what?”  It’s almost patronizing, like he can’t quite believe his ears.  

“You know what.”

He scoffs - a low, broken sound that catches halfway out, muffled by chain-smoking and not nearly enough sleep.  “You never used to have a problem with it.”

“We were together then,”  you retort quietly, sandpaper grit and burnt coffee bitter. 

“Just tossing me aside then?”  

You’re not quite sure where he pulls it from - the sheer, idiotic confidence he somehow fits into his words, framing them like you’re in the wrong.  You wonder if it comes from years in the spotlight because it certainly wasn’t there before. 

“Don’t say it like that.”  What’s meant to be reproachful comes almost pleading, soft and sad and stained with saltwater.  

“Then don’t tell me what to do.”

The silence that falls is paradoxical, miserable and fulfilling all at once.  

It hurts in the worst of ways, sparking from the tips of your toes to the tops of your ears.  It feels like being outlined in neon - vivid pain in shades of pink and green that burn through your veins.  Proverbial I told you so’s curl over your ankles and around your heart, little reminders that this is who he is now and every path would’ve led you here anyway.  Parallel lines meant to converge only once before diverging once more.

“I’m sorry.”   His apology feels infinite, as if it’s meant to make up for multitudes.  “I just…”

Nothing further comes.  You don’t know what you’d expected. 

“It’s fine,”  you say, even though it’s decidedly not fine.  Absolutely nothing about this was even remotely fine.  You weren’t even really sure why you’d agreed to come.  You were still working through all your reasonings, turning them on their heads in hopes of receiving an answer other than the glaringly obvious ones that spilt out like salt grains. 

“Is it?”  Something about how he speaks, how the question seems so small, prompts you to meet his eyes.  You wish you hadn’t.

There’s an infinite galaxy swirling in his irises, a million words he hasn’t spoken.  They beg to be loved regardless, to feel even a semblance of the warmth your smile had once offered.  It breaks your heart all over again, splitting it into pieces where the cracks and crevices haven’t quite fused together fully.

“I missed you, Pumpkin.”  You don’t have it in you to rebuff him.  Not when he reaches for you - a feeble gesture that pulls his figure close, entire bruised frame reassembling like a shuddering skeleton.  He’s starry-eyed and intoxicating, drawing you into the Jungkook-shaped supernova you’re helpless against.  “I missed you so fucking bad.”

“Jungkook.”  

His name sounds like it’s about to break apart just like your heart, shattering wide open into a thousand splintered fragments.  

“Please don’t do this.”  Not again, you think.  Not after all this time.

“I can’t,”  he says and it’s shipwrecks and car crashes, misery in the form of broken teeth and battered bones and endless blue in his eyes.  “I need you.  I need you.”

It doesn’t escape you that you’ve heard these words before.  You’d tucked that memory into the furthest corner, up and above your head in a shelf that you’d never touch.  You’d folded it away into the box labelled JEON JUNGKOOK and tried to forget about it.  You haven’t been able to.

It bursts out now, bouncing around your skull and in your ears - a feedback loop that won’t stop.

“Please.”  You try again.  

He’s gripping your hand so tightly - with a strength that feels far too much for someone only a day past a terrible accident - and it feels white hot and alive.  Where his skin touches, he burns candle wax and coaxing - honeyed and warm.  You imagine you’ll peel the drippings off later and be left with scars in the form of his hands.  You wonder just how much more you can take.

“Please.”  You try a third time.  It’s feeble, frayed from holding on too long and too tight.

He hears it just as well as you. 

“Stay with me.  I don’t have anyone else.”

A part of you wonders how true that is.  Surely, he had his family - his lovely parents that you’d practically considered your own.  You can’t imagine they’d leave him here to rot. 

Your resolve still crumbles, just a little, from the topmost pillar. 

Ever the opportunist, Jungkook watches the fall of your Roman empire with rapt attention, hopeful as a new god.  If only you weren’t so easy to read - full hand laid out on the table. 

“What happened?”  You pose the question in place of an agreement, words offered in the same instance you remove your hand - or try to, anyway.  It doesn’t get very far.  He seems adamant in keeping your fingers twined, knuckles stark white and riddled with tension.  You wonder if he’s oblivious to it or if he just doesn’t care.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

So focused on the way he holds you - claims you in the iron shackle that he deems he needs - you almost miss the way his features contort, rolling through a myriad of emotion before settling into a defensive mask.  

You hadn’t expected a bared soul or a confession of all his sins - you knew enough of them already - but you’d hoped for some semblance of honesty. 

By his expression, you wonder if you’ll even get that. 

“I was in an accident.”  It’s short, terse and held tightly between his teeth.  

You don’t mean it in any way but observational.  “I see that.” 

He still takes it the wrong way, scowl fitting like a glove.  It steels his jaw and hardens the line of his mouth, the moulting of purple over and around his eye doing little to hide the storm that grows in his stare.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You can feel a headache coming on - the first pinpricks of it just behind your eyes and at your temples.  It forms in bits and pieces, a silhouette of a man that burns your retinas and makes your grit your teeth. 

“Nothing, Kook.”  It comes far more tired than you expect it to, weighed down by something you can’t quite place.  It feels like you’ve run a marathon in this small room.  You wonder if this is what it’s always like - draining and miserable and reminiscent of the hell of tenth grade gym class.

“I’m sorry.”

How many times has he said that now?  Will it ever be enough?  For him?  For you?

You shake your head, a slow gesture that doesn’t really register at first.  You’re so used to appeasing him - even three years later - and it comes of its own accord, bobbing your neck on your shoulders like second nature.  You could hold it back, but you seem just as intent on repeating yourself as he does.  “It’s fine.”

Maybe this is what the two of you are destined for - two lost lovers stuck on a merry-go-round.  

“It’s not fine.”  He’s released your hand now - you try to ignore the sudden, overwhelming disappointment that crashes into you like a tidal wave - and uses the bruised, bandaged one of his own to scrub down the side of his face.  It’s a surprisingly tired gesture, as if all of a sudden the weight of his situation has settled on his shoulders.  You barely catch the words that fumble out next, hidden behind the palm of his hand and the ink that swirls over his ink.  “I just…”

You’re hopeful for a split second.  Hopeful that he might let you in, despite the fact that you know you shouldn’t even be knocking at that door. 

“I don’t want you to look at me differently.”  It comes so small, your heart clenches in your chest. 

Then you wonder - what had he done?

“I won’t.”  It’s not a promise but it sounds like one, filled with sunbeams and reassurance.  You wish you could offer it any other way, maybe with careful regard and just the right amount of distance.  Instead, you’re committed, poker chips piled high on green felt.  All or nothing.  You can’t help it.

“I fucked up.”  

For the first time, you see him as he was those years ago - full of promise and hope, eager for a taste of the unknown.  You see him as the Jeon Jungkook you’d known and loved, vulnerability threaded through all five feet ten inches of his frame.  

You want to help him.  You shouldn’t, but you do.  “You can tell me.” 

“We just finished the tour.”  Pride colours his answer in glimmering strands of gold, threads that glint as he speaks.  Charisma oozes out of every pore, shimmering like precious stones hidden behind his molars and within his stare.  It’s easy to understand how he’s done so well for himself.  “I was… celebrating.  You know.”  You certainly don’t, but you nod along regardless.  “Things got a little out of hand.”

His attention seems far away, focused on something you can’t see.  He continues carefully, cherry picking his words.  

“I probably shouldn’t have driven.  She—”  Everything comes to a stuttering halt, his doe-eyed stare suddenly finding yours with alarm.  “—I mean, they.  Uh.”  The damage is already done.  You can feel it taking root - that same hurt you’d felt creeping into your throat before you’d stepped foot into this space.  You swallow it down as best you can, tearing your gaze from his to train somewhere on the cotton that rests in his lap.

“Go on.”

He’s stuttering just a bit, because he can’t help it.  He knows he’s been caught.  You know he’s been caught.  Gone is the Jungkook you’d once known.  You see him for all he is yet again - a poor boy dressed in leather and lies.  It hurts far more than it should.  

“Uh.  W-w-we were in, uh, the car.”  The intensity of his gaze feels like two little laser beams.  You can practically feel them burning through the top of your head as you refuse to meet his eyes.  “I was— I was drunk and I didn’t— I didn’t see the other car.”

You’ve heard enough.  

You wonder if the way you’re staring at him now is the way he’d most feared.  It must be by how his face falls, crumples like a house made of playing cards.  

“I’m glad you’re okay.”  You mean it - really, you do - but that’s the only thing you can give him.  

For his and for your sake, you need to leave.  Now.

“Please remove me as your emergency contact.”  Your voice wobbles, falling apart as you speak.  You worry the tears will follow soon after.  You can barely make out his expression, the wetness crowding heavily along your lashes and turning everything into a strange amorphous blob.  

It’s getting harder to breathe the longer you stay.  Each step towards the door feels like your head on the chopping block.  Once you cross that threshold, it’ll be severed clean off.  You’ll leave your heart in this room, with this boy who hasn’t grown a single day in the last three years.

You think he must be speaking to you but you can’t make it out.  Everything’s muffled, like you’re underwater and about to drown.  It fills your ears and steals your senses, narrowing your focus to the polished steel door handle that’s just within reach.

“I’m really, really glad you’re okay.”  It’s all you can manage before the dam breaks and you’re throwing yourself into the hallway and the waiting arms of your brother.  You don’t know how to stop the noise that rips out of your throat, wet and desperate and barely coherent.  

Yoongi was right - you shouldn’t have come.

author note.  this was quite short but it didn’t feel right with another scene added to it.  the next chapters will move the story along a lot more.  ty for reading!  💖

tag list.  @jalexa83​ 

#thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #magicshopnet #networkbangtan #cypherwritersnet #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook angst #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook scenarios #work.zip #ghost.doc #jungkook.doc

[engie-ivy]

Remus and James find out Sirius has been hiding their friendship from his parents. Maybe they jump to conclusions a bit too fast.

“Apparently we, mere halfblood and blood traitor, are deemed unworthy of the heir of the ‘Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’. I suppose he doesn’t want to lose face by letting his precious pureblood relatives find out he has befriended such inferior wizards.”

A bunch of berks

“What the fuck, Sirius!” James is standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at Sirius. If the tone of his voice and his posture weren’t enough to show his anger, the fact that he uses Sirius’ name instead of his nickname does it.

“What’s going on?” Remus asks warily, as he approaches their table.

“Prongs has been reading my letter from home,” Sirius says, glaring at James.

Remus looks from Sirius to James. Sirius never talks about his family. Remus and James only know what everyone knows based on their reputation: they’re supposedly stiff, old-fashioned, and narrow-minded. Remus and James never bring them up either. They know Sirius isn’t like that, and that’s enough. Besides, you can’t really ask your best mate ‘oi, are your parents really as horrible as everyone says?’

James rolls his eyes. “Not on purpose! It was lying on the table and I picked it up, not knowing what it was.”

“And you didn’t realise until after you read the whole thing?” Sirius asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Then I was too appalled to stop reading!” James snaps back. He straightens the piece of parchment in his hand. “Moony, hear this!”

Remus opens his mouth to say he really doesn’t want to hear Sirius’ private correspondence without his permission, but what James reads to him makes the words die in his throat.

“ ‘We don’t see why you should want to stay at Hogwarts for the Holidays. Gryffindor already has hardly any decent purebloods, and I expect the few there are will be going to their families themselves. It is quite pointless for you to stay there on your own’ Or this sentence! ‘We understand that in such an abdominal environment as Gryffindor House the temptation to form relations with witches or wizards of a lesser descent can be strong, but we expect you will be sensible enough to continue to solely associate with decent purebloods, or at least as decent as the ones in Gryffindor can be’.”

Remus frowns. “Solely associating with purebloods? That doesn’t make any sense.” The Potters are infamous blood traitors in their circles, and no one would mistake the Lupins for purebloods.

“Well, you see, Moony,” James says. “Turns out Sirius here has been hiding our friendship from his family.”

Remus stares at Sirius. “Why?”

James huffs. “Apparently we, mere halfblood and blood traitor, are deemed unworthy of the heir of the ‘Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’. I suppose he doesn’t want to lose face by letting his precious pureblood relatives find out he has befriended such inferior wizards.”

Sirius grits his teeth. “I never said that!”

“So you deny that you’ve been purposely hiding our friendship to please you’re parents and their blood supremacy ideas?”

“No, but-“

“Well then,” James cuts him off.

“It’s not important whether they know!” Sirius says, almost sounding desperate. “They’re not important.”

“If they weren’t important to you, you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of pretending!” James argues back.

“You’re embarrassed about being friends with us?” Remus whispers. “You’re ashamed of us?”

Sirius looks at him with big, pleading eyes. “Moony, no...”

Somewhere in the back of his mind Remus knows they’re maybe being a bit unfair. They’re jumping to conclusions without giving Sirius a chance to explain. But James is raised in such a way that he’s completely allergic to anything that even leans towards blood supremacy, and Sirius pretending to uphold his parents blood supremacy ideas is definitely enough to set him off. And Remus... Remus is not a very confident person, but if there’s anyone who makes him feel like he’s worth a damn and good enough just the way he is, then it’s Sirius. And to now find out that Sirius is actually ashamed of him... Well, that hurts. A lot. So neither Remus nor James is really thinking clearly.

“Is this also why you never want to meet up during the breaks?” Remus asks.

“I hadn’t even thought of that!” James says. “I guess we’re good enough to hang out with at Hogwarts, without many other options, but when you can also choose to be with your precious pureblood friends and family, we don’t make the cut anymore.”

“That’s not... I don’t even have...” Sirius sputters. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

“Don’t know what it’s like?” Remus asks, incredulously. “You really think our parents didn’t have any reservations when they heard we befriended a Black? But we stood up for you! We told them you were nothing like the rumours say. We defended you, but I guess you didn’t feel like doing the same for us.”

Sirius stares at the ground. “I just didn’t think it was worth all the trouble,” he says softly.

“We weren’t worth it?” James asks. “Okay then, noted. We were wrong when we defended you anyway. You’re exactly like your ancestors. You’re a real Black. They can be proud of you.”

Sirius just stares at him for a while, face gone pale. For a moment, Remus thinks he’s going to tell James not to talk shite about his family, but then he just turns around and walks away.

Remus sighs. “I don’t think we handled that very well. What he does and doesn’t tell his parents is his own choice, after all.”

“But he’s been pretending to uphold their blood supremacy ideas!” James says defensively. “Or what if he’s not pretending with them, but with us?”

Remus shakes his head. “Prongs, we’ve known him for years! One letter can’t suddenly make him an entirely different person.”

James sighs. “I suppose you’re right. It’s none of our business if he wants to play the perfect pureblood son for his parents.” He looks hesitantly in the direction Sirius had gone off to. “Should I go after him?”

“Probably not right now,” Remus replies. “He’s upset, we’re angry and hurt. It’s probably best if we all calm down a bit and then have another conversation about it.”

They still have classes the rest of the day. Sirius doesn’t sit with them, and looks positively miserable. That’s enough for Remus to whish they had just talked it out right away. To make a bad day worse, they have to face Boggarts in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus is anxiously standing in line next to James. What kind of mad professor would think it okay to let students face their biggest fears in front of all their peers?

Soon enough, it’s Sirius’ turn, and Remus and James watch in amazement as the Boggart turns into his mother. Remus recognizes her from the glimpses he has seen at King’s Cross, but even if he hadn’t, it’s clear from her haughty air and typical aristocratic features. What’s also hard to believe, is that Sirius actually flinches when he sees her.

Even with having learned that morning that Sirius has been lying about their friendship to live up to his parents’ standards, it still comes as a shock to Remus that it’s actually Sirius’ biggest fear to disappoint his mommy. It seems so unlike Sirius, and quite frankly, it pisses Remus off that he cares so much about that lot’s good opinion. Judging by the way James’ jaw has tightened, he feels much the same.

They fully expect Sirius’ mother to begin scolding him, and they’re quite taken aback when she... smiles. It’s an approving and proud smile, and she looks at Sirius with admiration.

“Sirius, my son,” she speaks fondly. “You are truly a perfect representative of the Black family values. You’re exactly like your ancestors. You’re a real Black. We’re so proud of you,” she finishes with almost an exact echo of James’ words.

Sirius puts on a brave face, squares his shoulders, and casts a well-aimed Ridikkulus. The black stole his mother is wearing over her robes suddenly turns into a big, black dog, very reminiscent of Padfoot, who jumps on the ground and bites her in her arse. She jumps with a shriek and the Boggart retreats. Sirius turns around and walks out of the room not meeting anyone’s eye.

Students are whispering and Professor Flitwick looks confused. After all, why would someone’s biggest fear be their mother being proud of him?

Remus stares after Sirius. So he’s not afraid of falling out with his family and earning their disapproval. He’s actually afraid of fitting in with his family and earning their approval.

James grimaces. “We really buggered up, didn’t we?”

Sirius is sitting on the stairs with his knees tucked against his chest. James sits down on one side of him, and Remus on the other.

“We’re a bunch of berks,” James says. “If you don’t want to talk to me anymore, you have every right.”

Sirius shrugs. “You weren’t wrong. I have been hiding out friendship from my family.”

Without thinking, Remus wraps an arm around Sirius’ waist and he feels a tingle in his stomach when Sirius leans in to him. “We were just attacking you without giving you a chance to explain. We judged you without knowing the situation. We’re sorry, Padfoot.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“You did nothing wrong,” James argues.

“I made you believe I was ashamed of you. I hate that,” Sirius replies. “You must believe me when I say I don’t think myself better than you because of the bloody blood that flows through my veins! Quite the opposite,” he adds with a murmur.

“Of course we believe you!” James exclaims. He nudges Sirius with his shoulder. “How could we not? You just irrefutably proved that being like your family is your literal worst fear! We’d have to be massive idiots to not believe you.”

“Well...” Sirius says with a teasing smirk.

“Oi!” James shoves Sirius playfully.

Remus laughs, but something is still gnawing away at him. If Sirius doesn’t seek his parents’ approval, why hide their friendship from them? For that matter, they still don’t know why they never see him during the breaks. And his own mother being his biggest fear is just wrong, especially with the way Sirius flinched upon seeing her. Something is off.

But for now, James and Sirius are laughing together again. For now, Sirius is pressed up against Remus, resting his head on Remus’ shoulder, with Remus’ arm firmly around his waist. For now, it’s alright.

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #the most ancient and noble house of black #walburga black #marauders era

[sassyhobbits]

Tinder Au pt 2

yall ask, i deliver. Enjoy!

part 1

~~~

When Rowan’s Tinder match had ended up being his new coworker, he had expected a few tense days of awkwardness that they would eventually work through. He then hoped for them to become friends, or at least build a kind of casual, professional relationship. Eventually, the entire thing would have been a funny memory they would be able to laugh at in the future.

He hadn’t expected that she would end up driving him up the fucking wall.

Aelin was loud and opinionated. In the short month and a half she had been at the gym, she had practically taken over, moving through the facility like wildfire. All of the members adored her, as did the staff. Even Lorcan, who only really liked the nutritionist, Elide, managed to tolerate Aelin.

Maybe what pissed him off the most was the fact that she barely paid him a second glance. Aelin talked to everyone, knew all their names and facts about them, but almost never spoke to him. When he had called off the date and put some professional distance between them, Rowan didn’t expect her to take it as she had. He had liked her enough when they chatted, he didn’t want to cut off ties completely.

Maybe he was extra pissed off because of how people flocked to her, of how she soaked up the attention. She was a beautiful girl, afterall. She smiled and flirted here and there, but none of that attention went towards Rowan.

Maybe… maybe he was just pissed because he had missed out on the opportunity to be the one she smiled at like that.

Regardless of why, it didn’t change the fact that he was pissed. Extra pissed this morning, actually. He had reached out towards a usual client of his, wondering when he wanted to train again, only to find out that he had started training with Aelin.

Rowan had been clenching his jaw all morning, nearly on the verge of breaking a tooth, when he spotted her at the front desk, handing a coffee to Lysandra. He strode towards her, slamming his clipboard down on the marble, and bit out, “Quit stealing my fucking clients, Galathynius!”

Aelin barely reacted to his fury, only raising a brow and taking a sip from her coffee. “Good morning to you too, Rowan.”

He narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious. This is the second client this week. Why?”

“To begin with, I’m not stealing them. They’re coming willingly to me.” Aelin leaned her weight against the desk. “If you’re wondering why they’re coming to me… one, my ass looks great in leggings. Two, I do this thing called smiling. People tend to like it when you smile instead of scowling like you love to do.”

Rowan scowled. “Why do you even work here? Don’t you make money from your stupid Instagram?”

Apparently, Aelin had a solid following on Instagram. His coworker, Fenrys, had shown him a few days after she had started. Fenrys had become instantly enamoured with Aelin and her Instagram. It was full of pictures of Aelin showing off her body that she had worked so hard for, fitness tips, pictures of her and her friends, tasteful selfies. Rowan had spent more time than he cared to admit scrolling through it once he got home that evening. Gods, she was a beautiful girl.

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Do you know how to make money through Instagram? Running ads. And the only people who want me to run their ads are the fake-detox teas that are just diuretics. So, besides the money I get here and there from sponsoring some leggings, I do need an actual job to pay my rent. But don’t worry. Remelle hates me, so she’ll pay yours.”

Rowan’s scowl only deepened at the mention of the client he had been training for the past few months. Remelle only trained with him because she was attracted to him. The only reason he hadn’t told her to fuck off was beacuse her frequent sessions did help pay for his groceries. And she did absolutely despise Aelin because of the attention she received from the other males in the gym and her popularity online, so she wouldn’t be going to her for training.

Rowan heard footsteps approach from behind, felt someone slap his shoulder in greeting.

“You look like you woke up with a stick up your ass this morning, Whitethorn,” Fenrys said as a form of hello.

“He doesn’t look like that everyday?” Aelin asked, raising a brow. Lysandra at least tried to hide her laugh behind her hand. She handed Fenrys a coffee from the drink carrier she had brought.

“You working tomorrow?” Fenrys asked her, completely oblivious to the argument he just interrupted.

“Nope.”

“You wanna hit legs with me?”

“Only if you buy lunch after.”

“Deal.”

Rowan ground his teeth again at the exchange. He, unfortunately, worked tomorrow and would get the pleasure of watching them dick around together while he had to work. Not to mention, Remelle was his client tomorrow, so he would also get to listen to her make passive aggressive comments about Aelin the entire session.

“Well, if all you fine people would excuse me, I have a client,” Aelin announced, pushing away from the desk. As she brushed past him, she placed a hand on Rowan’s shoulder. “Do try and stay busy. I know you don’t have a full schedule today.”

Rowan glared at her. Brat.

Her brows flickered up. And proud.

With that, she dropped her hand and strode away.

The place her hand had been burned like a brand.

…

The next day, Rowan was struggling to focus on his session. Remelle was being her normal… charming self as he walked her through a few new exercises. Unfortunately for him, Aelin was working out only a few feet away and she was… distracting, to say the least.

When she was working, Aelin wore the standard quarter-zip and plain leggings. But, when she came to workout on her days off, she sported a much more varied wardrobe. Today, she wore a matching legging and sports bra set in a deep green. It was flattering, and fit her in all the right places. Her golden hair was swept out of her face in a high ponytail that swung around animatedly as she moved. She tossed her head back in a laugh at something Fenrys had said.

Rowan watched as she adjusted the weight on the bar, positioning herself below it, and doing a set of lunges. Her form was perfect, of course, face pinched in concentration. It was an impressive amount of weight to be fair.  

She finished her set, reracking the weights and wiping her brows with a towel. Rowan’s eyes ran up and down her body, her golden-tan skin, toned stomach, strong legs and shaped ass. It was no wonder why she had so many followers, why so many people looked to her for advice.

“Rowan!”

Rowan blinked, realizing he had been lost in his own thoughts. Or, lost in Aelin, rather. He hadn’t noticed that Remelle had been trying to get his attention.

“Sorry, what?”

Remelle huffed out a breath, blowing a strand of her pale blonde-hair out of her eyes. “Am I doing this right?”

Rowan refrained from rolling his eyes as Remelle did the move wrong, no doubt intentionally. It was a game she liked to play, doing an exercise wrong to get Rowan to touch her to get it right. He was quickly growing tired of it.

“Move your feet a bit closer together.”

Remelle huffed again, clearly upset that her plan didn’t work. She finished the exercise before straightening and planting her hands on her hips. “So, you busy later tonight?”

Rowan lowered his brows. “Why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner together.”

Rowan hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. It was always awkward trying to turn down a client, something that Lysandra had often griped about. When you worked customer service, it made rejection that much harder. What the fuck was he supposed to say that wouldn’t piss her off enough to complain to Lorcan?

Remelle raised a brow at his prolonged silence.

Rowan’s savior came dressed in Lululemon.

“Hey,” Aelin greeted breathily, placing her hand on his back. “Are we still getting dinner tonight?”

He had to struggle to keep his confusion to himself. They had made no such plans, and Aelin was touching him so casually after barely looking his way for a month. Rowan glanced down at her questioning, but the look on her face only seemed to say, Go along with it, buzzard.

“Yeah, of course.”

Remelle pressed her lips into a tight line. “Oh. I didn’t know that you two were together.”

“Yeah,” Aelin nodded, cocking her head to the side and holding out a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met before. Rebecca, isn’t it?”

Aelin knew damn well who Remelle was, even if they hadn’t been formally introduced. It made her purposeful butchering of her name even more entertaining. Rowan struggled to hold back the bark of laughter he wanted to release.

“Remelle,” she ground out, shaking Aelin’s hand once and dropping it so fast one would think it burned her. Remelle picked up her phone and glanced at the time. “Well, it looks like our session is up. I’ll see you next week.”

With that, Remelle swept away down the hall, leaving them alone. Once she was far enough away, Aelin took a step back.

“You owe me, Rowan Whitethorn.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“No, but you looked so lost and uncomfortable that I took pity.” Aelin gave a tiny shrug. “Besides, at least she didn’t cancel on you next week. She probably thinks she can get you to leave me. Hell, maybe she’ll book more sessions now. So… you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Maybe I am,” Aelin said, walking back towards where Fenrys stood to finish her workout. “And yet… you still owe me. Be ready.”

She didn’t even give him a chance to say something snappy back before she turned her back and strode away.

God gods was she infuriating. And yet Rowan knew he would keep coming back for more.  

#rowaelin #tinder au #my writing #throne of glass #also #new ons chapter tonight yall

[s1ater]

could you do a tory x robby fic. don't worry if you don't have time:)

our roots. robby keene x tory nichols

summary 📣: in which tory is convinced her and robby are more similar than he thinks, so what happens when they’re thrown into a situation that brings him back to his roots?

warning/s 🚫: swearing, mentions of drinking and drugs, sexual themes but not smut

slater’s note 🗯: i got so excited for this request, thank you for sending this in anon! anyways my inbox is open and if you prefer something else for them, shoot :)

"we know eachother robby," tory shrugged, "we know eachother a lot better than we think."

robby glanced over to tory for a short moment before looking away, his tongue poking the side of his cheek as he thought. he picked away at his fingers, his foot tapping at the ground. 

it had been awhile since robby was stuck in the kind of situation he was in right then, and he didn't know how to feel. 

he had only known tory for a couple of months. it was on and off at certain times, her showing up at random. he'd see her at parties, in the hallways at school, sometimes just around in public but never had he ever approached her, it was always her.

and that was how it had all started.

she had showed up at his dad's apartment at randomly, two forties in hand with a smug smirk on her face. he had stared at her absolutely dumbfounded, blinking a couple of time before she broke his surprised train of thought. 

“so, you gonna let me in?”

he blinked again before moving rather fast. 

"you're lucky my dad didn't answer the door," he had mumbled quietly, quickly closing the door after sliding out of the small apartment.

"what do you mean?" she faked pout, "i'm sure sensi lawerence would love to go on a bender with us."

"what're you doing here?"

he felt like he was on a personal attack, like she was blackmailing him for some odd reason by just showing up randomly on his front door. 

robby hadn't gotten along with tory in the beginning, her constant unreasonable attacks on sam for no reason while also shitting on him for practically making an attempt to kill her ex boyfriend, miguel. 

“you know i don’t drink.”

and yet she had somehow convinced him to go out on the northern heights to drink since no one she remotely liked was free or just hadn't wanted to drink with her at four in the afternoon.

that four in the afternoon had reached ten p.m. painfully fast, causing robby a great big headache as the forties went down fast and the other bottles of alcohol were pulled out from tory’s backseat, going down just as easy. 

and now there they were in the middle of the LAPD police station sitting before the empty head of security desk.  

he couldn’t help but have regretted everything he had done that night, all the drinking, the laughing, and the reckless driving, and then the destruction property, the reason they got caught in the first place. 

he had tory hop on his shoulders in attempt to pull off the “towing after hours” sign screwed to a wooden pole. they were unsuccessful, ending in fits of giggles before hearing the familiar sound of the police sirens, causing them to sober up real fast. 

robby hadn't felt that nervous in awhile, but it was like another saturday night for tory. she was relaxed, leaned back in the old rough plastic chairs she had sat in many many times.

"we're more alike than you think."

that rung through his ears, causing him to stop moving all his anxious limbs, his mouth slight agape as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

he hated that she said that, he also hated the fact that it was true. tory reminded him a lot of his old self. the old self that used to do molly at school, used to drink a lot, get high, steal, scam, do drugs, anything that involved with social rebellion. you know, the “basic teen actions”.

he used to be tory, so used to the chair that she now sat in to the point he was comfortable in it. 

"yeah, but not anymore," he mumbled, glancing over to her, causing her to clench her jaw. she was hoping he would agree, she was hoping he'd reassure her that they were both unstable, that they were on the same level of impulsive and bold. 

that they both had nothing to lose because they had already lost so much and they really were just living day by day. 

but he denied her of all of that.

every since she had joined the cobra kai dojo, she had heard a lot about robby and how he was some cool asshole who took the term “rebellious teen” to a whole other level. even through high school he was always somebody everyone talked about, whether it being about his shitty father or how much of a good fuck he was.

she found comfort in robby, like he was some super hero she read about in comics and saw in movies, someone she could look up to just because he had the same sob story as her.

but now tory rolled her eyes, sinking deeper into the plastic chair. apparently he isn’t her superhero anymore.

the head of LAPD had let them go with a warning and robby had no idea how or why but by the way tory was silently smirking he knew she had to have had some connections.

they pair was escorted out to the lot where they held tory’s car, giving her the keys after driving it out into the main parking lot, leaving them alone in the cold crisp night air.

they both stared up at the sky for a decent amount of time, the stars shinning especially bright that night making tory slightly smile. 

“you can’t leave your roots, robby,” tory said in truth, her head tilted back in competence, “you always seem to end up back to where you’ve began.”

she nodded to him in content, her lips pressed into a thin line as if that were to be the last time she’d see him in awhile.

robby watched her walk off towards her old crappy car, his mind racing, “tory wait.”

and she stopped, not turning until she heard his footfalls get nearer to her. he was looking at the black tar filling in the crack of the old parking lot, steadily strolling towards her.

her watched him carefully, anticipating his next move, her skin rolling up and down into anxiousness. 

he looked up, and it went fast, his hands reaching up to each side of her face, pressing his lips against hers.

she suppressed the gasp that wavered out in the back of her throat, her hands reaching out to grasp air before she settled for his arm, her fingers wrapping around his forearm, leaning into him.

his lips move in sync hers slowly as they fell into a cloud of lust that began to take over the both of their minds.

he pushed her back, tory’s back hitting up against the back of someone’s car, her head tilting up in a gasp, diverting them both into a different position.

robby’s lips reached down to her fair colored neck, his mouth beginning to press kisses and pull skin lightly between his teeth as he sucked onto her neck and along her collarbone.

her stomach began to tighten, causing her to gasp for air, chest sinking up and down as he continued on, his hands roaming all over her body, gripping, grasping, and pulling against her clothes and body.

“robby,” her voice came out in a low whine, different from the usual tone, stern, hard, and snarky, but now weak and desperate, making him groan, his lips going back to hers.

“you want to do this?” his voice rough, waving onto her lips making her stomach tie up even more, “right now?”

and tory grinned, her face ducking away from his, making sure she could see the smirk on her face, “you know i do.”

#robby keene #cobra kai #robby keene x reader #robby keene imagine #tanner buchanan #tory nichols #robby keene x tory nichols #tanner buchanan x reader #tanner buchanan imagine #hawk cobra kai #eli moskowitz #miguel diaz #peyton list

[impalaimagining]

On The Edge

Dean Winchester x Reader

1,726 words

Warnings: smut, 18+ only 

Beta: @torn-and-frayed​

Written for @spnkinkbingo​ filling the square “edging”

SPN Kink Bingo 2020 Masterlist - Masterlist

“This is insane, Dean.” You leaned back in your makeshift office chair - a library chair with two pillows, one stuffed under your backside and the other stuffed behind your lower back. “Another month?”

“Yeah, another month. They’re working on containing things, and since some people can’t listen, it’s taking longer than anyone wanted it to take. We’re stuck cooped up.” Dean offered you a feeble smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

You sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s just a pain in my ass.” You reached down, rubbing your glute. “Literally.” You stood up and stretched your hamstrings, suddenly missing the luxury of the standing desk your office implemented for every employee.

“We can get you a new chair.” He offered, but you shook your head. “Seriously. We have all these rooms. We’ll set one up as an office for you. You can’t work from the war table for another month.”

“You and Sam do it.” You shrugged. “I got it.”

Dean scoffed. “Sam and I also grew up sleeping on mattresses made out of rocks.”

“Not wrong.” Sam chimed in as he entered the room. “But why are we discussing our less-than-luxurious childhood?”

“She needs an office. With everything that’s going on, she’s gonna be working from home for the foreseeable future.”

“Right.” Sam offered you a sad smile. “We’ll go shopping.” 

“Online.” You raised your brows. “Social distancing.” 

“Right.” Sam repeated with a slight roll of his eyes. It’d been a long time since he and Dean had been cooped up in the bunker for more than a few days. He opened his laptop and pulled up the IKEA website, spinning the screen so you could see it. “Pick one.”

It didn’t take long for you to pick one with full back support, a slight curve where your lower back would fall. You let out a groan when your eyes fell on it as you scrolled through the page. “That looks so comfortable.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s just a chair.”

“No, Dean. It’s so much more than a chair at this point.” You stood up and stretched your arms above your head, your back snapping as your spinal discs popped back into place.

Sam flinched at the sounds emanating from your spine. “How often do you have to do that?” 

“Too often.” You offered Sam a tight smile. “Sometimes - depending on the day - I swear it’s better than sex.” You smirked.

“Hey.” Dean raised his brows and pointed at you with his index finger while the rest of his digits wrapped around his coffee mug. “Watch yourself.”

You giggled and shook your head, rolling your eyes fondly as another meeting reminder chimed on your desktop calendar. With a groan, you resumed your place in front of your computer and entered the meeting call.

“Son of a bitch.” You held your mug between your palms and closed your eyes, inhaling the scent of the coffee in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“You okay?” Dean sat opposite you, his own coffee cup on the table in front of him.

Shaking your head, you leaned your forehead into your palm. “I am so sick of these meetings, Dean. I’m exhausted, I’m barely sleeping at night because this quarantine has my schedule fucked six ways from Sunday. I’m just… over it.”

Dean stood up, taking a quick sip of his coffee before setting it back down again. He walked behind you, his hands moving over your shoulders as his fingers dug into the muscle there. “When’s your next meeting?” He squeezed the balls of your shoulders.

Like clockwork, your computer sounded again, reminding you of another meeting in fifteen minutes. You huffed and pointed to the screen, hanging your head. “Fifteen.”

“Last one for the day?” Dean asked, and you nodded. He bent down and kissed your cheek. “It’ll be okay.” Dean gave your shoulders one last gentle grip before walking himself back to his seat on the far side of your computer screen. Your fingers tapped out a few more emails, keeping customers updated and giving your coworkers the information they needed to stay on track for the week. As your computer dinged when someone began the meeting, Dean’s eyes watched you over the rim of his whiskey glass. You painted on a smile and greeted the meeting’s other participants. 

Dean licked his lip as he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear. He ran the tip of his tongue over his top teeth as your eyes wandered around your screen, scanning your co-workers’ faces. Your boss, Joe, started sharing a spreadsheet and rambling about the numbers within it. Dean pushed his chair back slightly and disappeared underneath it, unbeknownst to you. You looked up from your computer screen and noticed the empty chair across from you. The slight furrow of your brows turned into a look of surprise when Dean’s index finger ran over the cotton of your underwear directly covering your core. 

You flailed, slamming your finger down on the mouse to mute your microphone. “Son of a bitch, Dean!” You murmured, careful not to move your mouth too much while you spoke for fear that your coworkers would see you talking. “What are you doing?” 

Dean pressed a kiss to your inner thigh before scraping his teeth along the soft skin. “Focus on your work.” He commanded gently; you were always so quick to obey him. You closed your eyes and attempted to steady yourself with a breath. 

From under the table, Dean faintly heard the sounds of your meeting through the wood. He pushed them from his mind along with everything other than his intentions. He ran his index finger along your core again, waiting until he felt the dampness of your excitement through the material. The pad of his finger traced the outline of your clit, then down to your entrance, prodding into you softly. His lips danced over the crease between your right thigh and your pussy, leaving whispers of kisses on your skin. When Dean pulled his hand away, he caught a glimpse of the small wet spot on the fabric of your peach-colored underwear. 

Dean’s finger dipped into the elastic along the side of your underwear, moving the fabric to the side. He retraced the path of his finger, this time against your bare skin. The pad of his finger circled your clit, and when he reached your entrance, he twisted his wrist and flipped his hand, pressing his finger into you to his first knuckle. 

A whimper threatened to escape your lips, but you caught it in your throat and swallowed it down as you clenched your jaw. Your fingers dug into the edge of the table, skin turning white as you worked to calm yourself down. Dean pushed his longest digit further into you, curling it and rubbing gently against your g-spot. He flicked his tongue out and wriggled the pointed tip on the underside of your clit.

Your entire body jumped, muscles in your thighs and backside tensing at the feeling of his tongue on you. Carefully, you pushed your fingers into his hair and pulled. Dean smiled against your skin and flattened his tongue against you. He rolled the muscle of his tongue, applying pressure directly onto your clit as he pumped his finger in and out of you. Dean sealed his lips around your clit, pressing just the tip of his tongue onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips jerked forward as you pulled your lips into a thin line. When you parted them just slightly, a shaky breath poured from your mouth and you closed your eyes. Your hand trembled over your mouse, finger hovering over the button. Quickly, you tapped your finger down and muted your microphone long enough to let out a quiet moan.

“I fucking hate you.” You mumbled, not letting your lips move around the words. 

Dean smiled again before his onslaught continued, his finger rocking back and forth into you and his tongue laving over your overstimulated skin. You ran your hand down your face as you faintly heard the sound of someone trying to get your attention through your computer speakers to ask how things were with your to-do list. 

You ground your teeth together and composed yourself, sucking in a stabilizing breath. “All good here.” Your voice trembled, so you forced a smile and clicked the mute button again, making sure none of your tiny moans made their way into your microphone.

Your thighs shook, your hips swirled, and you writhed in your seat under Dean’s ministrations. He felt the pulse of your walls around his thick fingers, You were about to crumble, to dive right over the edge and fall apart for Dean. With one last gentle kiss to your clit, Dean withdrew his finger from you and pulled his face away from your core. The mewl that left your lips had you beyond thankful that no one could hear anything from your end of the call. Dean continued to tease you, to hold you right at the threshold of your orgasm, pressing featherlight kisses to the heated skin of your thighs.

As your meeting ended and your colleagues said their goodbyes, you hung up and checked your calendar frantically; the rest of your day was clear. Exhaling through your nose and dropping your tongue out onto your lower lip, you eyed Dean as he stood up on the other side of the table and wiped his chin on the back of his hand with a smirk plastered on his face. 

He turned and caught your stare. “You gonna get back to work?” The glint in his eye only added to the throb in your clit. You pushed your chair back, the legs screeching across the floor before you walked to Dean. You shoved your hand against his chest until he was sitting on the edge of the table. Swinging your legs over his thighs, you reached down and freed his cock from the confines of his pajama pants. Holding the base of his shaft, you eased yourself down onto it, bringing your hands up to grip onto his shoulders. You rocked your hips forward, dragging his cock along your walls. “What abou-”

You cut him off and molded your lips with his, riding Dean as his hands held your hips. Work would have to wait.

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[softguks]

angst drabble with jungkook please? HIT ME WITH THE PAIN. COME AT ME BRO. i’m probably going to regret this LMFAO

primroses

order description. Jungkook’s always missing you, it’s just on a rainy day that’s also your anniversary that he’s missing you the most.

customers. jeon jungkook / reader course. angst / teeny tiny bit of fluff :’) total bill. 1.5k words allergies. angst, character death (major), grieving, pain, crying :(

note ! @sketchguk thank you for being there for me during my rambles of how insecure i am about my writing sjwjsjsjjs. if the read more doesn’t work on mobile, i’m sorry :(

— primroses: i can’t live without you, eternal love

Jungkook’s made this trip more times than he count, comes probably every other week or so, and has visited so many times that he could probably get here with his eyes closed —even though that wouldn’t be very smart— but for some reason, today feels harder than normal.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the ridges of his knuckles going white as he clenches his jaw, chest heaving with each shaky breath that fills his lungs. The skin under his dark circles is tinged pink, red-rimmed eyes staring out into the distance as he musters you the courage to grow some balls and get out of his car. His legs feel like deadweights, and he can barely get himself out of the driver’s seat, eyes cast downward at the cracks and divots in the concrete. He follows each line and chasm in the asphalt that’s stained with rainwater. The squishy sounds of his shoes against the freshly trimmed, damp grass momentarily distracts him from his thoughts. Drops of dew cling precariously onto the blades of grass, glittering like jewels. He looks for anything and everything to get his mind off of her. His heart feels heavier today, the ache that resounds in his heart worsening with each day that passes.

Tears sting the base of his eyes, pooling in the corners of his doe eyes as he sniffles, struggling to hide the trembling of his body and the quivering of his bottom lip. Pearly, white teeth graze over the plump flesh of his bottom lip as he tightens his grip on the bouquet of flowers in his hand. His feet seem as if they are glued to the ground, imprinted in the soft and slightly damp, muddy patch of grass. Squatting down, he places the bouquet of primroses next to the structure, the pad of his thumb gently brushing against the yellow and pink petals. He glances up at the sky, trying his hardest to blink back the burning tears that threaten to slide down his cheeks.

Carding slender fingers through brown hair, he swallows the lump in his throat, unable to hide the pain that swallows him whole. It throbs in his chest, eating him out from the inside, burning him alive. It hurts, hurts so bad that some days he can’t get out of bed. Some days, his hyungs have to drag him out of bed for him to function. Some days, the most he can do is take a shower and down a glass of water before it all hits him like a truck again, and the pain becomes too much too handle. It’s funny, how bright and full of life he used to be. And now, he’s just a ghost, a husky of a human being, a lifeless soul residing in a shell.

It feels different without you. It feels wrong, it feels weird, and he hates it. It feels wrong to come back to a place he can’t even call home without you waiting with open arms. It feels wrong not to see your pair of shoes placed on the shoe rack next to his Timberlands, without your set of keys plopped in the little bowl at the front entrance, without your smile brightening his day. It feels too quiet, without the low hum of the dryer in the background, the illuminated TV playing softly, the bubbling of a boiling pot on the stove, the padding of your footsteps as you run to him. It feels wrong to sink down into the couch, waiting for you to run from your shared bedroom with lotion in one hand and a blanket in the other. He finds himself wanting nothing more than for the world to swallow him up whole as he barely lives through the days.

It feels wrong for him to fall asleep at night, without you curled up in his arms, the soft snores tumbling from your parted lips, your soft locks of hair fanned out around your head like a halo. He finds himself glancing over to the empty side of the bed more times than he cares to admit, unable to fall asleep because it’s too quiet and too cold. He misses the warmth that radiates from your sleeping figure, the beauty that astounds him when shards of silver moonlight illuminate your figure with a soft glow. It feels wrong to eat dinner alone, missing the warmth and homely feeling of your home-cooked meals. Recently, he’s been eating at the dorms to avoid feeling so lonely and lost in his thoughts.

Performing on stage is the worst. It doesn’t bring him the same euphoric feeling of pure bliss as it used to. He finds himself staring into the distance, at that one spot in the arena where you would normally preside, a proud smile playing across your rosy lips, your eyes bright with excitement. The thrill of it all, the rush of adrenaline, the cheering of the crowd, and the magical warmth that used to throb in his veins is now not enough. It takes too much out of him to sing the songs that were carefully crafted for you, to pour out his heart to someone who isn’t there anymore.

Jungkook finds himself falling deeper and deeper into a hole he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to climb out of.

He places the flowers down, next to the engraving in the stone, next to the plaque with your name carved on it. He lets the tears flow freely from his eyes, wide, broken, and blank eyes filled with more anguish than the amount of space in the universe. His heart quite literally shatters at the thought of your angelic smile. His voice comes out in a breathy murmur, soft and soothing as he gently traces the lines on the stone.

“Hey. I-I’m here again. God, this is so fucking stupid isn’t it? I’m sorry, it just-just hurts so much. I haven’t figured out how to live without you. It hurts too much to not see you, to not be able to touch you, to not be able to have you in my life. I love you, I love you so fucking much and if that means pouring my heart out to you on a rainy day, then so be it. You are the light of my life, and you’d probably be scolding me for crying, for dwelling on my feelings, but I can’t help it. I was going to marry you. I decided that I was going to propose on our anniversary, which is actually today.”

The words are falling from his mouth before he can stop them, and he can taste the saltiness from his tears on the tip of his tongue, and yet even the streams of grief aren’t enough to wash away the anguish that envelopes his entire being. It feels as though he’s drowning, the water rising faster than he can fight it, filling his lungs and yet there’s nothing he can do but breathe it in.

“I was going to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d decided, and we’d talked about our wedding, and the color dress you wanted, the flavor of cake we’d decided on, and we decided we were going to have kids. I had the ring ready, I made a reservation two weeks before just to make sure it would be at your favorite restaurant. I bought my suit already, I had the whole day planned out. In fact, I almost proposed to you that day in the diner, at two o’clock in the morning and goddamnit I wish I did. But I’m just too much of a coward and I loved you too much, getting lost in your eyes as you laughed over some shitty joke. It would’ve been worth it, to be promised as yours even if it only lasted two weeks. I’m never going to stop loving you, and I know you hate it when I cry, but I just have to tell you. If only I-“

Another sob tears through his throat, disrupting the peaceful silence that has settled in the quiet field of flowers. All of a sudden, his body is shaking with the sobs that erupt from his throat, the bitter scars and broken pieces of his heart pouring out of him. He waits a few moments, steadying his breathing and piecing himself back together before he continues. He has to finish, he can’t bear to hold onto the feelings anymore. They sit like burdens on his chest as another sleepless night passes, they hang onto the tips of his fingers when he grips onto the tear-stained sheets. He waits until he feels ready to continue.

“I brought you flowers. Primroses. And you’re probably thinking that I’m such a cheesy dork for it, and I am, but they’re primroses because the florist told me they mean eternal love. This sounds so fucking stupid but it’s worth it if it makes you smile. I wish I could see you smile again. But, I have to go now, Jimin-hyung will murder me if I don’t make it to dance practice on time. I’ll see you next week, hm? God, I probably sound like an idiot right now. I’ve always been your idiot though.”

He wipes away the wet patches of salty liquid that stain his cheeks, the skin around his puffy eyes blotchy, streaked with tears. But there’s a small, half-tender half-sad smile playing across his lips when he finishes.

For the first time in a long while, Jungkook smiles a genuine, real smile.

“I love you, I really hope you know that.”

the read more link doesn’t work on mobile, i’m sorry 🥺 thank u for reading pls reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!!

#softguks #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader