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callofdudes · 10 months

Note

ive been in the mood for some angst, some good ol' hurt/comfort or even hurt/no comfort. how would the 141 react to finding out their s/o has been kidnapped? their reactions to finding the ransom note, and how they would get their beloved back?

I wrote headcanons for this.... And then I wasn't happy with it, but I liked the headcanons enough to not want to get rid of them so I apologize if it's a mess. It's been a really emotional and draining couple days for me. But I wanted to get something out even if this was all I could produce.

Price 🥃

Don't mess with him. You mess with him or his family and he'll rock your shit. He is brutal and I know we all like to pretend he's the loving father figure he is 100% of the time but truth is this man is ruthless.

It doesn't matter who he has to kill to get you back he will. Whatever or whoever stands in his way between him and you is gonna get got.

This is pretty much true for all of the guys. But Price is that, I've been married for like 11 years don't fuck with my family.

When Price finds the note he's rightfully furious, he's scared, but overall he's furious that they would dare to put their hands on you. To take you away and then threaten him with your demise, of worse.

Giving Price exactly 48 hours to hand over the money whatever organization wanted it wasn't a smart option. In fact, none of this was smart. The note mentioned what would become of you if the instructions were not followed.

He tucked the note in his pocket and without hesitation he dialed the phone number that was on the paper. He remained calm, as he did with any enemy.

"If you think of hurting them, I will not hesitate to kill you." Said in a low voice. The kind that remains calm but you can tell he means every word coming out of his mouth.

"We won't have to hurt them if you give us what we want." The soldier on the other line sneered.

John was absolutely terrified inside. He knew how to handle this situation with civilians and his own teammates but this was you. You. What If they killed him or he didn't get there in time??

He didn't hesitate before doing a deep dive on the organization as far as the eye could see. The idiot stupid enough to leave his phone number got their 20 second call tracked and he didn't need to have the location before he was up and out.

He'd either bring a team or go alone but knowing Price he'd probably go alone. Brutal killing. Brutal killing.

I mean all the normal military stuff but with some extra aggression. Affectionate dad mode has turned into 'Slaughter everything that ever moved with extra violence husband mode.'

He searches every room and he doesn't stop until he knows their dead. He'd leave a few lost soldiers in favor of getting to you. While he would kill them all his main priority is finding you and making sure you're ok.

Lots of kisses and reassurance when he finds you alive and ok. If you're unharmed he probably untie you from your holding place and pull you in tightly, kissing you and hugging you, telling you he's here. He's here and it's ok. Nothing, nothing will ever hurt you. Not on his watch.

"I've got you love, I've got you." He kisses your forehead, then your lips. "I'm here darling, you're ok, you're safe."

You fall into his arms, crying and grabbing onto him tightly. "I thought they were going to killed me- John!"

Price holds you tightly, kissing the side of your head. "Oh love I'd never let that happen, I would never let that happen you hear me??" You still cry, grabbing onto him even as he picks you up, holding you in his arms as if he would protect you from the whole world. And he would. Nothing would ever hurt you.

If you are injured then all those dead men out there?? Oh yeah, he's going to shoot all of them again just for good measure. If you are hurt any leniency he had for soldiers still hiding around the place is gone. Will blow up the facility. To pieces. Fucking bye!

You whimpered, looking up at him, blood trickling down your forehead into your eye and matted in your hair. "John...." Price cut your bindings and pulled you into his arms.

"They hurt you... Which one of them hurt you!?"

You grabbed onto him, shaking and crying as he wraps his arms around you. "I'll kill them all. I'll kill them for what they've done. They won't lay another hand on you." He growls, holding you close.

He gets you home and doesn't leave your side, but you don't mind the cuddles and how he stays up later than usual that night keeping his eye on you that he falls asleep next to you on the couch.

If you come back injured he tends to your wounds, lays you down in bed and stays awake with your head on his chest, stroking his hand through your hair and over your scalp, feeling your warmth and comfort in knowing you came out ok.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still shaken up." You whisper, nuzzled up against his chest, laying under his chin. "You?"

"Just glad you're alive. So so glad you're alive." He hugs you tightly, kissing your head. "I love you." You snuggle up, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I know you'll always be to my rescue John."

"Always, I won't ever let someone hurt you like that. Never."

Gaz 🧢

Gaz can do ok with confrontation. Even though he doesn't like it, he usually lets his gun do all his talking for him. The barrel to their face and they usually shut up pretty quickly.

Gaz definitely leaves the intimidation up to his weapons. But when you're kidnapped and taken hostage? Fuck that. Fuck all of that. You are feeling the full force fury of one Kyle Garrick and you don't want that.

The fuck around and find out type.

A little better at regulating his emotions when he finds the note. When he reads it his face is full of rage if you look into his eyes. The scowl forming is palpable to his rage. Crumpling the note up in his hand before dropping it to the ground.

He doesn't hesitate to grab his gun, his hat and his car keys. Someone is gonna get their ass beat.

It's on the way that he gets a call from the people who have kidnapped you, giving him a verbal warning of the damage you would suffer in the next 48 hours if the deal wasn't closed.

"You have 48 hours to get me that money do you understand?? Or your love is bye-bye."

Kyle remains silent on the phone, glaring down the drive, his foot pressing into the pedal. "Every finger you put on their skin, I'll cut it off." He hisses before ending the call.

Their first mistake was giving Kyle their location to meet. Gaz is wicked with technology when he gets his hands on it.

When they tell him where to meet and drop the money he does a quick search, surveying the area and finding all possible exits, entry roads. Buildings, abandoned or not. All while still in the car.

When he finds an old abandoned warehouse with some built in security perimeters he figures it's his good first bet.

Again, his gun does the talking. And his gun has one nasty bite. By the time he's tromped through the enemy troops he's dripping I'm blood because once he shoots he just keeps trucking. Dropping the entrance and eventually when he finds some men in the room with you it's all fists.

He wants a good fight and they don't even get a chance before Kyle has them on the ground giving them the beating of their life.

If he finds you uninjured he'll rush to you and make sure you know you're safe, then untie you and hold you in his arms, kissing you until he runs out of air.

"I'm here baby, I'm here. Come here, come on, let's get you home." Kissing your temple as he picks you up and carries you out. "Shh, I'm here now, I'm so glad you're ok." He kneels in front of you, untying you and pulling you into his arms.

"Kyle-" you look back at the men, bloodied and dead. You cling onto Kyle with tears in your eyes, shaking in his arms. "They were going to kill me...."

"I'd never let that happen. And their damn fools if they think they would get away with this." He looks into your eyes. "I'm right here ok? You're ok."

If you are injured he'll gently pick you up in his arms and carry you back, treating your wounds and then holding you close to him.

"Shh," He pushes a strand of your hair back, settling you in his lap, his bloodied hand running through the blood that runs down your nose and your lip. "They can't lay another hand on you." He shakes a little, tear rolling down his cheek as he kisses your forehead, relieved to feel your warm body in his hands. "I love you so much. I love you so much." He whispers.

Arms wrapped under your, cupping your back to keep you close to him throughout the entire night. Reassured whatever state you're in, you're home. You're back home with him and nothing will ever hurt you.

You comb your fingers over his scalp, glad to be wrapped in his strong embrace. "I love you Kyle." You whisper. Kyle nods, pulling you as close as he possibly can. "I love you even more."

Ghost 💀

You'd think this would be easy, but it's actually not. Simon's reaction would be similar but could go one of two ways. He'd either be blood thirsty, angry. Carnage, teeth ripping, flesh tearing, head snapping psycho angry. Or he'd be worrying about your safety, pacing back and forth looking for any way, any how he could get you back. Both emotions are present in both cases but one would be more dominant.

So let's say he's both. He finds the note and he's furious. He's absolutely blood red visioned. But he knows if he does anything rash it could cost you your life.

Again, he'd either be the type to go on his own or call his team. But he'd only call his team if he seriously, seriously thought maybe he wouldn't be able to save you and not himself.

The note was easy, finding finger prints on the thing was like second nature to scan. Identifying those fingerprints with help from a friend, also pretty easy.

With his 48 hour slot to either complete the deal or sacrifice your life he set off to find you. Armed to the teeth. Quite literally.

And once he got to the base you know what happens. Ghost do what Ghost does. Carnage. Blood and limbs torn. His gun being his main weapons but like Gaz was not afraid to get his hands soaked in that moment.

He wanted to go rage on the whole base but his objective was you. Snuck in, took out anyone in his way and found you.

If you're uninjured he'll rush to you and make sure you're awake. He'll immediately cut your bindings and pull you up into his arms. He can embrace you and kiss you when you're safe. But rest assured now that you're in his arms he won't let you go. He gets the car far enough away and pulls you into his arms, kissing you until he can't breathe.

He pulls you from the corner of the room into his arms. "I'm here, I'm here love don't worry." He holds you close, hiding you in his embrace as he brings you back out of the base and to the car. When he gets to safely away you start to cry.

"Simon," you cling onto him, shaking and relieved.

"I got you baby, I've got you." He whispers, pulling up his mask and kissing you. Kissing you until he was sure you wouldn't disappear into thin air. "I'm right here, I'm going to get you home." He runs his thumb over your cheek, relieved your alive.

He's lost family members like this before, he'd never want to lose you to that. And he almost did. He almost lost the most important person in his life.

If you are injured fuck stealth. All those men?? He'll slaughter and bludgeon all of them so badly their families won't know who their burying. That's that happens when you mess with people he loves. He gave them a chance to possibly get out alive if they hadn't hurt you, but they had. And that was the wrong decision.

"Where are you injured??" Simon cups your cheek, looking down to see the blood dripping onto your shirt and soaking your collar. He was furious, but he pulled you into his arms and held you close. "It's ok, they won't lay one more fucking hand on you. I promise. I'll kill them for touching you, I promise I will baby not one will be left."

He brought you to the car and kissed your nose. Once he'd gotten you secure and ok, he cocked his gun and finished off the last of that base.

When he returned again you cried into his chest while he held you, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry love. it's over. It's over, I won't ever, ever let anyone hurt you like that again.

He brought you home and held you in his arms, refusing to let you go. He would never let anything hurt you. He promised. He would never let the evil of the world hurt people he loved again.

His grip was tight, running his hand up and down your back. He looked into your eyes, seeing your face for a long while before leaning his forehead against yours, tears finally swelling up in his eyes. "I'm so glad you're ok." He whispers, pulling you close again. He'd never let go.

Soap 🧼

John cries. When he comes home from his long leave, expecting a warm hug and a good meal. But when he comes back, the house quiet and empty. The lights off, the love of his life not there to greet him.

And when he finds the note that you've been dragged out of your home and taken hostage for money and information. He was scared, seeing the email at the bottom of the note.

You were one of the most important people in his life and he couldn't fathom the thought of losing you.

He's in tears and shaking when he sends a message to the email, waiting for an agonizing hour before he got an email back. A taunting message acting for the money with a photo of you, a knife to your throat. "Give us the money or your little lover gets it."

Now he was angry. He was sad and scared for you but he was also angry. He contacted Ghost and once he got information on the email and pinned where it was sent from he didn't hesitate.

He was strapped to boot with anything he would need. Hell he threw his favorite bazooka in the back and was off by sunset.

When he gets there he easily takes out the sentinels and gets inside, finding you tied up. He takes out the soldiers guarding you and rushes to your side, holding you gently. "Look at me love, I'm going to bring you home." He kisses your temple and hauls you into his arms.

"We're going home." He assures you again as he brings you outside into the cool air. He walks you out past the perimeter and flicks the button in his hand, the base going up into a flurry of smoke and fire. "No one will lay a hand on you, I promise."

If you aren't injured he's going to set up a bomb and blow the place sky high, sending flames into the night from the inside out.

If you are injured he's still blowing it up.

"Love, love can you hear me??" He tilts your head up, seeing the black eye and your bloody nose. He frowns, immediately undoing your bonds and cradling you in his arms. "I'm not going to let them hurt you anymore. Not one damn second more."

"Johnny.... It hurts." You whispered, clinging onto him for his warmth, his protection.

"I promise you love no one will ever lay a hand on you like this again. I swear to it never again."

He picks you up and brings you out of the base, once he's in the safety perimeter he blows the place sky high. Good riddance.

He won't let anyone hurt you. He loves you, and he vows to protect you with all the resources he has. He would never let you get hurt. He holds you close, maybe even gives you a nice welcome home to get your mind off what you went through.

"Are you really ok love??" He asked, watching you sip the hot chocolate he'd made you. You nod, cuddling closer to him in your PJs. "I know you'll always be there for me."

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, lips feathering a kiss to your temple. "Always love, I will always do what I can to keep you safe."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty headcanons #ghost x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price x reader

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charmedreincarnation · 6 months

Text

Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #reality shifting #shiftblr

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froggibus · 21 days

Text

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3 if you guys have more ideas for venture or overwatch, send them here, i'd love to do some writing this week

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them.

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of.

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes.

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru.

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood.

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it.

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need.

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin.

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more.

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter.

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower.

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric.

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse.

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong.

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine.

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor.

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise.

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more.

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest.

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder.

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them.

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

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(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch smut #venture x reader #venture x you #venture smut #venture overwatch #sloan cameron #sloan cameron x reader #Sloan cameron x you #Sloan Cameron smut

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kpopfanfictrash · 1 year

Text

Love to Hate (Extra Scene IV: Jungkook’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Author’s Note: This scene takes place after the Epilogue of Love to Hate and is told from Jungkook’s point of view. There is no corresponding scene from Y/N’s POV. PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE STORY BEFORE READING THIS SCENE (otherwise there will be many spoilers lol).

Rating: 18+

Warnings: some dirty talk, but not actual sex

Word Count: 4,605

“There’s no way that man is single.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, look at him.” The woman behind Jungkook sighs. “A face like his? With a body like that? Wearing a suit that costs more than my rent? Yeah, no way someone hasn’t locked him down.”

A loud, jarring slurp signals the end of a drink. “I don’t know,” says the other woman. “I feel like that suit is the exact reason he has to be single. No guy that rich or hot would ever marry so young.”

Lifting his newspaper, Jungkook hides a smile. Seated outside the sole coffee shop in Terminal C, he’s been nursing his Americano for the better part of an hour. Jungkook’s own fault for arriving at the airport early. Your plane wasn’t scheduled to land until one, but he wanted to be here in case.

Jungkook can practically hear your laughter in his mind. “In case what?” you’d tease. “In case the plane has an extra engine to help break the sound barrier? Or multiple people parachute out, giving us an extra boost?”

“Both of those things,” Jungkook would answer with a straight face. You’d shake your head, amused at having married someone so ridiculous and –

Clearing his throat, Jungkook forces himself to focus. What’s ridiculous is the fact that he daydreams about his wife when you’ve only been gone for three days. Although that’s three days too long, in Jungkook’s unbiased opinion.

Giving up on pretending to read, Jungkook lowers the paper to pull his phone from his pocket. Searching the screen, he sees nothing but the text you sent twenty minutes ago.

Y/N: Landed 😘 see you soon! [12:54 PM]

Nothing since then, and Jungkook frowns as he pushes a hand through his hair.

“See,” hisses the same woman behind him. “No ring!”

“That’s his right hand, Lauren.”

“Oh.”

Stifling laughter, Jungkook drains the rest of his coffee to push himself to stand. Folding the newspaper under one arm, he pats the front of his suit jacket to check for his wallet. Satisfied, he turns and casually lifts a brow.

Both women do an admirable job of pretending they haven’t been staring for the past fifteen minutes. Clearing his throat, Jungkook waits for one to look up from their phone.

“Married,” he says, lifting a hand to display his wedding ring. “Happily so. Have a good day, ladies.”

With that, he turns to stride across the floor. As he leaves, Jungkook hears a groan of embarrassment followed by bursts of laughter. Tossing his paper into the recycling, Jungkook stops at the flight board to confirm your landing.

The board says your flight reached the gate fifteen minutes ago, which causes Jungkook to frown. Usually, you’re the first off the plane and have reached him by now. Turning around, Jungkook scans the baggage claim and wonders if you’re there. Unlikely. You don’t usually check a bag for a trip of three days.

Stepping away from the board, Jungkook narrowly misses being run over by a man on a scooter. He’s about to call your cell phone when a fresh wave of people walks from the exit. Hurrying in this direction, Jungkook peers through the crowd and immediately spots your red coat – hand-selected by Mia, your daughter.

Even at five years old, Mia is a force to be reckoned with. Her opinions tend to be law, much to your despair. Spoiled by her father, you’ve sighed and Jungkook doesn’t deny it. He can admit when he’s the guilty party.

Lifting a hand, Jungkook is about to wave when he notices your expression and falters. Usually, that look on your face means you’re about to explode. Slightly alarmed, Jungkook searches for the culprit and pauses on a man walking at your side.

Tall, dark haired and handsome. Oddly familiar, although Jungkook can’t pinpoint why.

Usually, it amuses Jungkook to no end when other people hit on you. He enjoys the quiet security in knowing you’ll (politely) turn them down and return to Jungkook. A fact he takes pleasure in reminding you of later that night, spread out beneath him while you writhe in pleasure.

This time is different though because this time, you’re not smiling. Jungkook watches while your jawline tightens, yet another indication of your clear discomfort. Wheeling your carry-on, you nod silently at something the stranger is saying.

The moment the crowd thins, you spot Jungkook and brighten. This immediate contrast makes Jungkook’s gaze harden, moving once more to the man by your side. There are few people in this world who could make you – his ferocious wife – uncomfortable, and all of them reside on his personal shit list.

Your walking companion notices Jungkook at the same time, slowing his steps until he comes to a halt. Still, he doesn’t leave and Jungkook stamps down annoyance while crossing the hall. Soon, he’s within hearing distance and what he does overhear makes his stomach drop.

“… it’s just been so long, Y/N. I barely recognized you! Imagine, if I’d taken that later flight – or, God forbid, been forced to ride in economy.”

“Imagine,” you say flatly. The look on your face could easily be misconstrued as pleasant but Jungkook knows you well enough to know you’re screaming inside.

His lips twitch as he nears since clearly, your walking partner doesn’t.

“I feel like it’s a sign,” the man says, moving closer. When he reaches for your arm, Jungkook stiffens. “Running into you after so many years, like this. I always felt that–”

Immediately, you yank your arm back. “You thought what?” you demand. “That I’d forget about everything you did, Kameron? That it’d all disappear? That I wouldn’t have moved on with my life by now?”

Kameron’s gaze darkens, dipping briefly to your left hand. “Is this about… him?” he asks, barely audible.

Forcing his feet to stop, it takes all Jungkook’s willpower to keep himself out of it. You’d never forgive Jungkook if he rode in on his white horse to save you. You’re more than capable of handling one shitty ex-boyfriend.

Because that’s who this man is and why Jungkook finds him familiar – this is Kameron, your ex and recently promoted CEO of Moore Holdings. Jungkook has actually met him once before, although that was before the two of you started dating. He disliked Kameron back then; a dislike which deepened to hate once he heard your backstory.

Hands clenched into fists, Jungkook concentrates on feeling the bite of his nails on his palms. At least, he does until you glance over your shoulder, meeting his gaze with a pleading look. In a single stride, Jungkook has reached you and is extending his hand.

“Hello,” he says, waiting for Kameron to shake. With his other arm, Jungkook pulls you into his side. “Thank you for escorting my wife from her flight.”

You relax against him, and Jungkook’s barely contained anger bubbles beneath the surface. Your expression doesn’t shift, but Jungkook can feel the subtle change in your body. It’s the same way he feels whenever you stand beside him, offering support he didn’t know he needed.

One of Jungkook’s favorite memories is the time he ran into Liam Jessen at a conference and you politely told Liam you’d carve his eyeballs out with a spoon if he didn’t leave before lunch. He disappeared. Swiftly. Even Jungkook was chilled by your tone, and he swears up and down later that night was when your son, Jae, was conceived.

Narrowing slightly, Kameron’s gaze moves to Jungkook. He can practically see the wheels turning in your ex’s mind – the ring on your finger, his introduction as his wife – and gradually, Kameron’s expression tightens.

Jungkook lifts a brow. While you’re more than capable of handling people, Jungkook knows you haven’t seen Kameron since the night you broke up. Somehow, you managed to avoid meeting over the years – until now. Granted, that was years ago and you’ve moved on since then, but Jungkook knows better than others how some wounds can linger.

A lone muscle tics in Kameron’s jaw. “Hey,” he says, extending his hand to shake. “Kameron Moore. CEO of Moore Holdings.”

Gripping him tightly, Jungkook says, “Jeon Jungkook. Y/N’s husband and CEO of Jeon Energy.”

Jungkook sees your lips twitch, the way they always do when he introduces himself as your husband first. It’s true, though – Jungkook would sell his company tomorrow if it meant keeping you.

Hearing his name has the desired effect and Kameron’s eyes widen. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jungkook holds on, squeezing even tighter before letting go.

Casual, he takes a step backwards and reaches for your bag. Wheeling this to one side, Jungkook taps his fingers against the handle.

It isn’t often Jungkook pulls the name card but in moments like this, his surname feels almost worthwhile. Despite meaning nothing to him, Jungkook knows the name Jeon means a lot to people like Kameron.

“I – oh.” For a moment, Kameron seems as though he swallowed something bitter. His gaze darts to you. “I didn’t realize… your name was Y/N Y/L/N on your boarding pass, so I just assumed…”

“You just assumed what?” Jungkook says calmly. “That her marriage was a sham? That she wore a wedding ring to deter people from hitting on her? Even if that were true,” he adds, his expression stony, “that’s awfully bold to assume such a rule wouldn’t apply to you.”

Kameron bristles. “Y/N and I have a history, if you must know.”

“Oh, he knows,” you say drily, answering for him. Turning to Jungkook, you place a hand on his Kiton suit. “I’ll take it from here, babe.”

Inclining his head, Jungkook takes a step backward. He’s pleased to see the fire returned to your eyes – admittedly, this signal bodes poorly for Kameron. Jungkook would feel bad for him if Kameron weren’t the reason for half your trust issues.

“My husband is right,” you say with a smile. “Even if my ring were fake, what makes you think I’d want to talk to you?”

Floundering slightly, Kameron opens and shuts his mouth.

“Exactly,” you say, not waiting for a response. “I was polite to you during the flight. I sat across the aisle even though I was uncomfortable. I even engaged in small talk after putting my headphones in. Never mind that I only slept for three hours to get home early for my family. I tried to be nice to you,” you insist, lifting a brow. “But clearly, that was futile.”

Jungkook can feel a smile spreading over his face. It’s in moments like these when he’s infinitely glad you two are on the same team. And that you mostly use your powers for the good of humanity.

“Let me make something perfectly clear,” you continue. “Even if I weren’t happily married with kids, I’d have no interest in seeing you. Our relationship isn’t something I look back on fondly. I would say I hope you’re doing well but really, I don’t. Moore Holdings is a predatory and shitty excuse for a company. I hope it goes under. Stay healthy, I guess,” you say with a shrug. Turning to Jungkook, you hold out your arm. “Shall we?”

Jungkook just nods, slipping his hand through your own to head for the doors. He doesn’t spare a backwards glance but is sure if he did, he’d find your ex-boyfriend left speechless. You tend to have that effect on people.

Gripping your carry-on bag, he wheels this towards the pick-up lane at Terminal C. Your driver is waiting, idling at the curb.

Stepping outside, you pause and tip your head back. “God,” you groan, before starting to laugh. “What a mess.”

Handing your bag to your driver, Jungkook steps closer and places his hands on your arms. Tugging you towards him, he watches your eyes open.

“Hey,” he says, smiling downward.

“Hi.” Softly, you return the gesture. “Can I just say you’re a sight for sore eyes? I was stuck with that asshole for five hours, listening to him brag about a conference he just spoke at for two hundred people.”

Jungkook can’t hide his smirk. “Little did he know, he was bragging to EnergyCon’s keynote speaker.”

You lightly scoff, but he can tell that you’re pleased. EnergyCon is the largest energy conference in the country and the site of your latest work trip. You led two days of seminars before finishing the week by giving the keynote address. Clean Ocean has never been a small organization, but recent successes have shot your message to the forefront of the industry.

Still, Jungkook scans your face for any sign of discomfort. Although you seem okay, he knows better than most how old scars can linger.

“I’m fine,” you say softly, reading his mind. “Promise.”

Giving a small smile, Jungkook steps back to open the car door. “You can’t blame me for worrying,” he says as you slide inside. “Are you sure? You don’t have to pretend.”

“I know,” you muse. “It’s strange, really. I’ve thought about it before – what I would say to Kameron if I ever saw him again.”

“Oh?” Following your lead, Jungkook shuts the car door. “And what was the plan? Fiery vengeance? Complete cold shoulder?”

Laughing a little, you set your purse down. Resting your head on the seat, you turn sideways to face him. Jungkook takes your hand again, unable to let go for too long.

“I thought about both,” you admit. “But then I saw Kameron, and everything flew out the window. Everything I’d planned to say seemed suddenly… silly isn’t the right word. Unimportant? There’s a part of me that will always be angry at him for what he did. And with myself, for letting him.”

Jungkook’s frown deepens when the car pulls from the curb. “I don’t think you let him do anything, Y/N.”

Thoughtful, you nod. “I guess. Anyways, Kameron started talking and it just became clear to me that he hadn’t changed. At all. Kameron cares so much about what others think of him. He needs validation from everyone, which is honestly exhausting. It just made me think that even if he hasn’t changed, I have. Which seems like a fitting ending.”

Jungkook’s lips quirk. “Plus, you know, you got to tell him his company was shit.”

At this, you let out a laugh. “Yeah, that was pretty great. Turns out, I’ve only matured to a point.”

“I like that point,” Jungkook says, using your hand to tug you closer. Draping your legs over his thighs, he removes your shoes to set on the floor. “I also don’t agree that maturity means always turning the other cheek. Sometimes, it means standing up for yourself. Or… for example, telling an asshole when they are one.”

Your laughter becomes a groan when Jungkook presses his thumb to the ball of your foot, and he glances to ensure the partition is up. Slumped against the leather seat, you squint at Jungkook in suspicion.

“What do you want?” you grumble.

He flashes an innocent smile. “What makes you think I want something?”

You struggle to sit up, failing halfway and sinking. “Because you’re using pressure points against me – oh,” you exhale when he kneads your foot.

Deftly, Jungkook continues to work on your arches. “Maybe what I want is for my beautiful wife to relax after her flight.”

You snort. “And?”

“And…” Jungkook pauses, then sighs. “How do you always know?”

“Call it mother’s intuition.”

“Unfair. All I got as a dad was bad hearing.”

“Don’t forget your vision,” you say helpfully. “That’s gotten worse, too.”

Jungkook shoots you a look that makes you giggle before pulling you closer. “Come here,” he growls, wrapping his arms around you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he exhales, “I missed you.”

He feels when you soften. “I missed you too, baby.”

A long moment passes, and then –

“But you’re not going to make me forget. What happened?”

Lips twitching, Jungkook pulls away. “Nothing happened,” he insists. “Or nothing bad happened. I may have forgotten to send Jason a birthday gift like you asked. I’ll send one tonight! As soon as we get home.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur, smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone. “I knew you’d forget, so I already sent one.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops.

Seeing his face, you start to laugh. “What?”

“Betrayal!” he blurts.

“You forgot!” you protest, lowering your head to rest on his shoulder.

“I know,” Jungkook huffs. “Very sneaky of you.”

“Jason would’ve been despondent if his favorite brother-in-law missed his birthday. I’m just trying to protect you, here.”

“I’m his only brother-in-law, babe.”

“Exactly. Doubly tragic if you forgot.”

Jungkook laughs, slipping two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face to his. Brushing your lips with a kiss, he feels familiar heat spread down his spine. Your lips part beneath his, tongue flicking in a way that sends blood to his cock. Dropping his head, Jungkook begins to kiss down your throat.

When he bites down, you shudder and your hands fist in his jacket. Jungkook’s grip tightens on your waist when you moan his name. Returning to your mouth, he nips your lower lip before soothing it with a kiss.

“Jungkook,” you pant, gripping the base of his hair.

“Yeah?”

His hand roams your spine, relearning your body. Only three days and still, he’s missed you. Missed the sound of your sleep beside his, your laughter in the morning and wry looks exchanged over weird things the kids do.

Your exhale is shaky. “We should stop,” you murmur, gaze fixed on his lips.

Jungkook smirks. “Should we?”

“Yeah.”

“And why is that?”

“Because.” Torn, you glance forward. “We’re on our way to get the kids, and there’s no way we have time to do everything I want before then.”

Despite the situation in Jungkook’s pants, he’s forced to agree. As appealing as car sex sounds right now, Seokjin and Yoongi’s home isn’t far from the airport. Falling backwards, Jungkook exhales to blow hair from his face.

Laughing a little, you smooth the strands away. “Where are the kids, anyways?”

Eyes wide, Jungkook glances around the backseat. “Oh, shit. I knew I forgot something.”

“Ha-ha. The real answer?”

He chuckles. “They’re with Seokjin and Yoongi.”

Your brows shoot upward.

“Yoongi is the primary caretaker,” Jungkook assures. “Seokjin is more of… entertainment.”

“Perfect,” you sigh, returning your head to his shoulder. “I told Mia the type of karaoke machine Seokjin has only works in their neighborhood, but I don’t think she bought it. We might have to get her one for her birthday.”

Jungkook shakes his head, resting his hand on your knee. “She’s too smart for her own good, you know. Takes after you.”

“Sure does. Except Mia has a beautiful voice and I have the singing ability of a drunk walrus.”

“Are they known for their singing, or…?”

“Nope. Mustaches get in the way.”

Jungkook laughs, turning to press a kiss to your brow. “Later, though,” he murmurs, dropping his voice. “Once the kids are asleep, I plan to make up for these nights apart. Who knows? Maybe we’ll create that third kid we’ve talked about.”

Mischievous, you glance upward. “I don’t know… you’d have to put in some serious work for that to happen.”

Lifting a brow, Jungkook’s grip on you tightens. “I think I did a pretty good job of getting you pregnant with the first two.”

“Mm, but that was ages ago,” you sigh, head tipping backwards when Jungkook kisses your neck. “Back then, you were so young and spry. Now, you wear sensible shoes to the gym. Do you really think you have the stamina?”

“We’re in a moving vehicle,” he murmurs, low in your ear. “Which is the only reason I’m not fucking you to prove you wrong. Bet your pussy is wet just thinking about it, huh? Want me to spread these pretty legs and check, princess?”

Your breath hitches, chest rising and falling as his grip slides up your thigh. Jungkook brushes close to your center, maddeningly close and still not enough. Some people say desire diminishes with age and in some respects, Jungkook understands. That initial, frantic burst of sex diminishes but Jungkook doesn’t view it as a bad thing. That burst is replaced by trust, the knowledge that physical intimacy isn’t a replacement for intimacy of all kinds.

Not that the physical intimacy is gone, of course. That connection Jungkook feels when you touch him remains unchanged. A single look does more to turn him on than anyone else ever has.

Lifting a hand, you cup his jaw and scan his face. “Unfair,” you complain. “Unfair for you to get better-looking with age when you were already hot to start. You know, I overheard some moms at Mia’s preschool calling you a DILF the other day.”

Jungkook tries, and fails, to hide his grin. “Oh, really?” he asks, returning his lips to your neck. “And what do you think, Y/N? Am I a dad” – his teeth scrape your throat – “you’d like” – his grip on your thigh tightens – “to fuck?”

“Yes,” you groan, arching into him. “Fuck. I mean, who am I to judge those moms for their impeccable taste? I’m the only one who gets to fuck you, so it’s really their loss.”

“Besides,” Jungkook adds. “You’re one to talk. Every time we go somewhere with the kids, I leave for one second and am forced to fend off all your admirers when I return.”

“What can I say? People know a good thing when they see it.”

“So do I,” he growls, low in your ear. “Which is why I proposed six months into dating. Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m messing this up.”

“I know. Me neither.”

Jungkook stares at you, silently warring with an internal dilemma. “I planned this all wrong,” he admits on a sigh. “I should’ve told Seokjin and Yoongi you landed at three.”

A laugh escapes as you open your eyes. “No, this is better. You know me – I want to see our babies.”

“Not babies anymore,” Jungkook says mournfully. “Jae turns two next month.”

“I know.” Drily, you arch a brow. “Having had the pleasure of pushing him out myself. And they’ll always be my babies. They’ll just have to deal.”

“Well.” Jungkook kisses your forehead. “At least they’ll have something to talk about in therapy.”

Huffing a laugh, you lightly punch his shoulder. Jungkook grabs you halfway, intertwining your hands for the rest of the trip. Despite what you said, it’s been a long trip and a few minutes later, you’re asleep on his shoulder. Pulling into the drive, Jungkook debates whether to wake you but decides you’d be more upset if you missed the kids.

“Wake up, princess,” he murmurs, unbuckling your seatbelt. “We’re here.”

Sleepily, your eyes open and you stare at the house visible through the side window. “Oh!” you blurt as you straighten. “Did I fall asleep?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook says, grabbing your purse. “You needed it. Do you want to stay in the car while I get the kids?”

“Nope,” you scoff, already opening your door. “Don’t you dare.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook follows you up the drive to Yoongi and Seokjin’s home. It’s a beautiful, contemporary style house built into the cliffs overlooking the ocean. For this very reason, Jungkook has barred Mia from playing outdoors but has the sneaking suspicion Seokjin lets her anyways. He’s a sucker for Mia’s big eyes and quivering lower lip.

Reaching the entrance, you ring the bell and stand back at the sound of thundering footsteps. The front door flings open.

“MOMMY!”

Jae is the first one outside, tripping over himself to reach you. Luckily, you catch him before he can fall. “Hi, munchkin!” you gush, swinging him upwards. “You’re getting so, so big! Did Yoongi feed you dessert for breakfast again?”

This last sentence is followed by a look at Yoongi, who’s appeared in the doorway. Yoongi shrugs, crossing his arms to lean against the frame.

Shaking his head, Jae wraps his tiny fingers around your wrist. “Nooo. He said that’s bad. Mommy, what’s ‘adult time?’”

Freezing, you glance once more at Yoongi, who seems momentarily flustered while searching for what to say.

“Uh… I’ll take Jae,” Jungkook says, hastily reaching out to transfer him to his hip. The look on your face has turned slightly ominous. “Adult time is the time when adults hang out and do adult things. Right, Yoongi?” he adds, widening his eyes.

“Uh, right.” Yoongi bobs his head. “That’s correct.”

“Oh.” A tiny wrinkle forms in Jae’s brow. “The adults play games?”

“Lots and lots of them,” Jungkook says, tossing a wink in your direction.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the front door, but Jungkook can tell that you’re smiling. “Where’s Mia?” you call.

“In the basement with Seokjin.”

Following suit, Jungkook glances around the vaulted foyer. A few years ago, when Yoongi bought this place, the walls were full of his trophies and Seokjin’s travel mementos. Now, they’re pseudo-uncles to both their kids and Hoseok’s, forcing them to baby-proof in each way imaginable. Breakable items are set on high shelves, sharp corners are sanded down and electrical sockets are covered.

As they head for the basement, Jungkook sees a black shape slink around the corner.

Reaching upward, Jae grabs the shell of Jungkook’s ear. “Mr. Whiskers is mean,” he attempts to whisper, but comes out at normal volume.

Mr. Whiskers is the name of the cat Yoongi has had for over ten years and is famously standoffish with anyone that’s not his owner.

Yoongi’s lips twitch. “He’s just scared we’ll like you better than him, Jae,” he offers. “And he should be! At least you tell us when you’ve gone poop.”

Jae giggles at the word poop, causing Jungkook to mock-gasp and cover his son’s ear. Following you to the basement, Jungkook stops short at the base of the stairs.

Mia and Seokjin are singing karaoke – again – but this time they’ve added make-up and costumes. Glitter has been smeared over Mia’s cheeks and she dances around the room in a neon blue tutu. Seokjin is similarly bedazzled, pink dotting each temple and every time his hair shakes, more glitter falls out. The song is a pop song that overplayed on the radio but despite this, Jungkook can’t help but grin.

Spinning around, Mia spots you mid-twirl. “MOMMY!” she cries, the sound reverberating when she forgets she’s holding the microphone. Dropping this on the ground, Mia launches herself around the couch and into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” you laugh, bending down for a hug.

Mia presses her cheek to your leg, glitter rubbing off on your pants, but you don’t seem to mind. Eyes closed, you hug her back as you rock to and fro.

Jungkook’s heart melts as he watches. Sometimes, his luck feels slightly overwhelming. When your eyes open and meet his over Mia’s shoulder, Jungkook knows you feel the same. It’s hard not to pinch himself to ensure it’s all real. To confirm he won’t wake up tomorrow in that cold, dead apartment he used to have.

Fingers tightening in Jungkook’s hair, Jae gurgles his laughter and Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Mia takes you by the hand, dragging you to the couch to show off her routine. Joining the group, Jungkook bounces Jae to the beat while Mia squeals in delight, holding out her mic for Jae to yell, “AHHHHH!”

It’s a brand of chaos only your kids could create and Jungkook knows that, deep down, it’s something he’ll never be without again. He’ll make sure of it.

#bangtanarmynet #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fluff

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sweetheartturtle2007 · 17 days

Note

Hihi!! I'm back again, I was wondering if you could do cg hc for Chris and Martin from Wild kratts? Agere maybe a little petre? (White tiger) Also, a tiny thing I imagine is that we would play in tiger creature power suits! And go on adventure in the tiger creature power suits!!

I've recently restarted watching wild Kratts soon you're in perfect timing! 🐾👬

They're both big brother caregivers, nobody can tell me otherwise.

They love to take you out on adventures with them, although aviva has to keep an eye out for them because of all the trouble they get themselves into.

Of course that doesn't mean that they're not responsible, you're always holding hands with Chris or martin when you're out.

They gave you a little notebook that you always bring on your adventures so that way you can write down everything you learn from animals.

Talking about books, they have gifted you lots of books about different animals from the ocean, forest, dessert, etc.

They both always carry a backpack where they have all the stuff they need for missions and they have another one where they keep all your stuff(bottles,blankies,snacks,books,toys,etc)

Chris loves to play with you, play pretend is one of his favorites but he also loves to play with your animal plushies and toys, he takes you out to play in the sun and go on search of new animals.

Whenever you and Chris come back from playing, you're both covered in dirt or mud, completely desalinated and tired from all the running and jumping you both do whenever you play.

Martin likes playing with you like that as well but he prefers to play and teach you at the same time. He gets you lots of activity books and enciclopedias. You both are always sitting at the table doing activity books, reading stories or coloring, all of that while having some delicious juice 🧃 and snacks (mostly cookies)

In the morning, one of the two Kratts is always holding your sleepy self in his arms while the other is cooking breakfast.

When aviva gave you your first power suit, they were both tearing up cause, THEY'RE SO PROUD OF YOU.

They loved when you turned into a white tiger, they immediately did the same as well and you 3 played for hours that day.

You'll be learning a lot about white tigers 🐯

The Kratts will prepare a little corner for you to play with your power suit. It's filled with toys and plushies.

Chris like to play chase with you while you're on your power suit, you'll chase him around turtle and tackle him to the ground and tickle him.

"HAHAHA m-martin h-help ! A w-white ahahaha t-tigers attacking me hahaha" he couldn't talk because of your tickling, you just kept laughing as you played with him. You do the same with Martin and the rest of the gang.

They're keeping you away from Zach of course, not only is he a bad guy, he has tried kidnapping you once.

I like to headcanon that martin and Chris can sing really well, soooo there are lots of Lullabies when you go to sleep.

Martin is kind of strict when it comes to your sleep schedule. "Look at the time lil fangs, time for bed, no no no don't give me that face, you're going to sleep." He's not mean, he just wants you to have a goodnight sleep :(

Chris sometimes lets you off, "what's so bad about missing some hours of sleep?" Yeah...he had to deal with your grumpy sleepy self the next morning and also get scolded by martin.

I also headcanon that they both like to eat healthy, so they prepare tasty and healthy meals for you.

Nicknames: martin: lil one, tiger, lil fangs Chris: squirt,lil adventurer, tiggy(tiger)

10/10 they're the best brother caregivers you could get.

Hope you liked this, sorry it took so long. Ive been kinda busy.

Here you go 🐯🙏💓

#requests #top trends #tmnt fandom #wild animals #wild kratts #agere activities #sfw age regression #sfw agere #sfw furry #age regressor #agere community #welcome home agere #age regression #agere blog #sfw regression #sfw interaction only #sfw littlespace #agere wild kratts #wild kratts agere

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mattphobiia · 4 months

Text

STREAMER.

i finally prepare the last touches before clicking start to begin my stream, sitting back into my chair as i watch the viewers increase as the minutes pass by and my chat begins to get active.

"hey chat! how are we all feeling today?" i say as i begin to set up my screen so all the viewers can see. i look over for a minute to see what everyone was talking about only to see my chat spamming that i was wearing "fresh love" which started to confuse me.

"guys, why are you bringing up my outfit?" i laugh awkwardly as i click at the mouse selecting the game folders. "my best friend got it for me so i don't know what you are all talking about."

"anyways, i've opened all my games so spam my chat with whatever you want to see me play!" i cough, trying to distract the viewers as they all begin to change the topic.

"for fucks sake, all i'm seeing in the chat are all the horror games." i sigh in annoyance. "do you all want me to have a heart attack?"

i hesitantly click to the most suggested when in the corner of my eye i see my chat spamming even crazier than before. i scan through the comments to see many people saying some guy called chris had joined.

"chat who is chris?" i ask curiously as i pause to look at my stream. "chris sturniolo?" i quickly got out your phone to search for his instagram when a verified user came up and turns out i was wearing his merch brand, fresh love.

"oh, damn. hes a big creator!" i gasp, looking through his account as i turn my phone to the stream. "well, hey chris if you're still here!"

i turn my attention back to the game as i engage properly while my heart raced with nerves until the sound effect of someone subscribing made me jump, along with a donation.

chrissturniolo subscribed!

chrissturniolo donated $100!

"holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me!" i scream, jolting backwards and nearly falling from my chair as i place my hand on my chest to feel my heart pounding. "thanks for the $100 and sub chris sturniolo."

i had been streaming for over two hours now, and this chris guy had been donating a couple hundred dollars numerous times just to talk to me directly and my chat was going absolutely crazy over him. i honestly didn't see the hype until i got the idea from someone in the chat to check out their youtube channel, and something about that sparked my interest.

"chat.... i have a surprise for you all!" i say excitedly. "ive seen many comments begging for me to react to the sturniolo's videos so... that's what i'll be doing for the next hour!"

a couple minutes before i searched up their channel, i received another donation from chris, but was that a surprise?

chrissturniolo donated $1,000!

"chris! holy shit dude!" i yell excitedly, nearly beginning to cry as i get up from my chair to get out of the camera frame. "i can't believe this... thank you so much!" i say while the tears of happiness slowly seeped from my eyes. i slowly sat back down as i wipe my eyes before looking at the chat, realising he had left a message underneath the previous donation and i read it out loud.

"thanks for the support, treat yourself princess- princess?!" my eyes widen as i lean closer to the screen, almost in denial. "damn chrissy, thanks!"

i click onto their channel as i select one of their most recent car videos, almost gasping for air once i saw what they actually look like.

"chat is it just me or is chris really attractive?" i question, slightly smirking predicting the reaction of everyone, knowing they would act feral. "oh, thanks for the $5 donation chris!"

chrissturniolo: 😳😳 whats the instagram???

i read out his comment as i pull up another tab to open instagram, showing off my secret account that not even my own supporters had as i continue to speak.

"this is the spam account, but i consider it my main since i don't actually use the other one. as you can tell, i definitely post myself in some... questionable clothing choices!"

immediately on screen, chris's notification popped up saying that he followed me, along with many others where he was liking my posts.

"well, the whole stream saw your notifications chrissy. anyways, back to reacting." i say, giggling to myself as i saw through my peripheral vision that the chat had began to speed up rapidly.

"well that was a fun time! i dont know why i havent watched them sooner, but ill be getting off now to rest. chris, ill talk to you later. bye everyone!" i finally say, giving a wink to the camera for chris as i end the stream, falling back into my chair as i let out a sigh.

well, that was a very unexpected surprise to my stream. my thoughts suddenly get interrupted when i notice chris had sent me a private message.

chris: hope you enjoy all that money i gave😉

you: i definitely will, you live in la/boston right?

chris: yesss, i live in la but usually go to boston to visit parents

you: thats cute

you: would you ever want to meet up?

chris: i'll do anything for a girl like you🥴

you: 🫣🫣🫣

MASTERLIST

a/n : this is not proof read and i also started off in second person perspective (you,your,etc.) so im sorry if that is still there🥲 im also having a bit of writers block atm but im trying to write more! thank you for all the support tho:)

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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currentlyfckingurmom · 11 months

Text

Little Sun

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, alcohol, nightmares, kissing

2.2k words

NEW YORK, 2012

You had no idea what these things were, but there was an endless stream of them pouring from a giant hole in the sky and you were doing everything in your power to stop them. As soon as you killed one, another would attack. After hours of fighting, your body was worn down and you were exhausted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blur of red. A woman was being tackled by one of the giant aliens. Using all of her strength to keep her attacker at bay, she failed to notice the other coming up behind her. Before you could think twice, you sprinted as fast as you could, sliding between the alien’s blade and the woman’s body.

You felt the sharp, cool metal pierce the skin of your stomach. Two gunshots rang out, signaling the aliens’ death as you looked down at the red oozing from your stomach. Your eyebrows furrowed as you realized that you weren’t healing like you should. I must’ve exhausted my powers, you thought.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, continuing to fight the onslaught of aliens.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you breathed, extending your hand for a handshake. She lifted a brow at you and gave you a onceover.

“I’m Natasha. That wound looks pretty bad, there Y/N. How are you feeling?” “Like I just got stabbed by an alien,” you grunted out as you shoved a fist through an alien flying at you, tearing out his throat. “I’ve been worse, though.”

Your head whipped to the side at the sound of a kid screaming, and before the redhead knew it, you were off. Gone and out of sight.

Turning the corner of a building, you found the honey hole. There were hundreds of aliens crowding the street, tearing everything apart. “Well this might end badly,” you mumbled to yourself. The aliens turned to you, screeching and charging. “Oh yeah definitely gonna end badly.”

Bracing for impact, you were quickly surrounded by aliens as you motioned for a little boy and his mother to run away. You took the aliens down quickly, but there were just too many. You felt claws tearing into your side as you kicked one of them away.

After what felt like days, you were surrounded by countless dead bodies, wheezing heavily from the strain on your body. Your powers weren’t healing you due to the exhaustion, but they were keeping you alive.

Trudging through the lifeless pile of aliens, you plopped down on a curb against a street light. “Motherfucker, that hurt,” you mutter.

And then it all went black.

⧗

A steady beeping slowly seeped into your senses. The stiff sheets were cool on your legs. You could feel a needle in your arm, pumping something unknown into your veins. Your breath weakened as you began to panic. The odor of sanitizer flooded your nostrils. No, no, no, I can’t be back here. They’re gonna kill me. I can’t be back here.

Jolting upright in the bed, you scrambled to rip the IV out of your arm. You ripped the monitor off your chest and jumped out of the bed, searching for something to use as a weapon. An alarm began to blare and your heart jumped into your throat as you took off down the white hall. A group of people rounded the corner, and you stopped dead in your tracks, prepared to fight.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You demanded.

“Hey, look, take it easy–” a tall blonde man started.

“Who are you?” You yelled again.

“We’re the Avengers. You’re at our tower,” a brunette man said.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. You’re safe,” a raspy voice said from behind you. You hadn't even heard her coming.

“Natasha?” Your shoulders relaxed slightly at the sight of the redhead.

“You were pretty banged up. We found you passed out on the street and brought you back here to heal up. Figured you were safer here than in a hospital where they’d discover your…abilities.”

“Right, okay. So you guys…aren’t….” you trailed off before changing your words. “You said you’re the Avengers? What’s that?”

“We’re a ragtag team of people trying to do something good,” the blonde man from before said.

“And our boss really wants to speak to you,” Natasha smirked.

TWO YEARS LATER

Natasha walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, surprised to see you there. You were sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. She couldn’t help but notice the slump in your shoulders and circles under your eyes that had been haunting you lately.

“Detka, everything okay?” She spoke softly, but you still jumped at the sound.

“Yeah,” you tried to laugh. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep.” She sat on the stool next to you, watching you closely as you avoided eye contact and took another sip of Crown.

“I know when you’re lying to me, Y/N. Something’s clearly wrong. But I won’t make you talk to me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“I’m sorry, Nat. I just…I just have nightmares sometimes,” you whispered.

“About your past?” She asked the question genuinely, but was hoping to get more of an insight into your past. She had looked into you when you first met, of course, but there were only files up until you turned sixteen. After that, you were a ghost.

“Yeah, something like that,” you smiled bitterly. Natasha moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your eye, but you flinched away. In the two years of friendship, never had you done that. You almost looked ashamed, she thought.

“Solnishko, what’s going on with you lately?” A tear fell silently down your face but you didn’t bother to wipe it away.

“I don’t know how much you know about me. I’m guessing there’s not much on record after the age of sixteen. But I grew up under pretty shitty circumstances. My dad was a prick. He’d beat on my mom until she couldn’t walk, and then she’d drink away the pain. At first she tried to protect me, but eventually she gave up and left. I wanna hate her for it but I can’t bring myself to.” You sniffled. “My dad would bring me down to the basement and kick the living shit out of me. He’d whip me with his cane until I couldn’t move, and then he’d lock me down there for hours. Sometimes days. So, that sucked,” you choked on a bitter laugh. “And then I was kidnapped and brought to God-knows-where.”

“Y/N…” Natasha hummed, tentatively reaching out. She breathed a sigh of relief when you took her hand.

“I’ve been through so much shit. I was tortured and experimented on for two years, but…I always have nightmares about him. Even the nightmares of the HYDRA facility, he’s there.”

Natasha took a mental note that you were held in a HYDRA facility, and that’s where you got your powers. But she tucked that away so she could focus on you.

“Look at me, detka,” she mumbled, turning your head to face her. “You are so much stronger than him, okay? And I don’t mean the super strength. You’re gonna be okay. I don’t know if this pain will go away or if it will always hang over you, but I can promise that I will be here by your side no matter what. Forever and always.”

“I’m so fucked up, Nat. I don't belong here. I’m not a hero,” you whimpered.

“You couldn’t be more wrong. You are the greatest person I’ve met, and despite the shit you’ve been through, you still put your life on the line to help other people. That doesn’t mean nothing. You might be fucked up, but I am too. All of us are. You belong here. You belong right here next to me, okay?”

You tried not to dwell on that last part. “Okay. I’m sorry, Nat. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.” You pulled back and wiped the tears away, and Natasha only wished to have you closer again.

“Don't apologize for feeling, Y/N. It’s what keeps us human.”

Your eyes bounced between hers and darted down to her lips. You forced yourself to turn away and take another swig of whiskey, burying those feelings down the same way you had been doing for two years.

“How about we go watch a movie in my room?” Nat suggested, knowing that you liked being in her room better. She could tell you felt safer there than in your own, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah, okay.” You cleaned up after yourself and then followed the redhead to her room. She turned on an old James Bond movie and you smiled as she mouthed along to the film. In the dimly lit room, her emerald eyes reflected the TV screen. Her eyebrows fluctuated with the scenes of the movie as her lips followed the words. You breathed in her familiar perfume and shampoo.

“What are you looking at, Y/L/N?” she smirked

I’m in love with you, you thought to yourself. “Thank you for being here for me,” you said instead.

“Always, solnishko. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” She gave you that look with her thumb rubbing circles on your hand, and your stomach clenched with longing. It hurt so bad that you wanted to cry. Because this impeccably kind, strong, caring, and drop-dead gorgeous woman was sitting in front of you, and you were so in love with her. But you couldn’t have her. She had shown no signs of feeling the same way.

Instead, you turned to watch the movie in silence, waiting for Nat to fall asleep before you gave in to your exhaustion.

Natasha found you in the gym early the next morning, dripping in sweat. You punched the specialized heavy bag mercilessly, venting your anger and frustration with the world. At that moment, you were extremely grateful that Tony had designed a punching bag to hold up against yours and Steve’s strength.

Natasha walked closer, taking in the blood seeping through the wraps on your hands. She frowned, worry knotting her stomach. “Solnishko, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you panted with a false smile. “Just getting some energy out.”

“Oh, okay. Well if that’s the case, do you wanna spar?” she asked, seeing through your lie.

“Yeah, sure.”

Inside the ring, you let her charge first. As she went for a basic 1-2 combo, you grabbed her right arm and twisted her around. But before she could hit the ground, she kicked backward at you, knocking you off balance. Her thighs wrapped around your neck and pulled your body towards the ground. But you had sparred with her many times, and her signature move no longer took you by surprise.

You held onto her calves and twisted your bodies so that she landed flat on her back with an ‘oomph.’

You straddled her hips, pinning her arms with a victorious smirk. “I win.” “I guess you do,” she said quietly, her cheeks turning pink. The uncharacteristic blush prompted you to realize the position you had found yourselves in.

“Oh. Oh, uh, sorry, I’ll-” You moved to stand up but she grabbed onto you, holding you in place. You could feel the heat in your cheeks and ears.

“How many years is it gonna take us to talk about this?” She husked.

“Huh? I- I don’t know what you mean, Nat.” You laughed awkwardly. Oh my god.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so off around me?” She realized she wasn’t going to get an answer and smirked before continuing. “Detka, you could’ve just said you wanted to kiss me.” She leaned in closer, her breath fanning over your lips. “Do you want to kiss me, Y/N?”

You nodded slightly and that was it. You weren’t sure who leaned in to close the gap, but it didn’t matter. You were above Natasha Romanoff and her lips were on yours. The kiss started slow at first. Tender and careful, saying so many things. But as hands began to wander and tongues itched to explore, it quickly had moans spilling from your throat.

Natasha pushed you up into a sitting position before straddling your lap. Her hands pushed up your shirt, traveling underneath it and skimming the underside of your bra.

“Nat,” you practically moaned. “Not here. Not like this.”

She looked at you through blown pupils, confusion etched on her face. “What do you mean? You don’t wanna have sex?”

“No! I do. Trust me, I really do. But in case you haven’t noticed, you mean a lot to me, and you deserve better than a quick fuck on a sweaty gym mat. I want to take you on a real date. The whole nine yards.”

She looked absolutely perplexed at this proposal, and it angered you that no one had treated her well enough for her to expect such a thing. Eventually, she smiled softly and pecked your lips. “I’d love that. And in case you haven’t noticed, you mean a lot to me too.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst

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whoretan · 2 years

Text

ARK 45 | 02

Summary: After what turned out to be an unsuccessful night, Jimin invites you over to his apartment where things certainly go in another direction.

WC: 3.5k

Play me while you read.

Pairing: Club Owner/Mafia!Jungkook, Hitman!Reader (ft. Jimin)

tags: um, so reader n jimin, yeah, fuckin against a window, slapping, dirty talk, murder and torture, possessive jimin???, jimin is a sadist, im sorry for what ive done, theres like 10% plot, 90% porn, reader will smash jk soon i swear

Chapters: 1 | 2 (ur here)

The screams of ache bouncing across the wooden walls are only driving your frustration further.

You enjoy hurting people, but tonight, you have no patience for the whiny asshole Jimin left you to deal with.

And typically, you have the patience of a fucking saint.

About fifteen minutes after you left ARK, Jimin texted you the geo-coordinates to a random location that won’t show up on any Google searches.

Jimin doesn’t trust anyone but you to do his dirty work. So while he gets to pounce around the city like an angel in a suit, you’re stuck dealing with the tedious and messy portion of the job. Then again, it pays well, so, there’s no room for complaining.

“I’m about three seconds away from slicing your tongue off,” you warn. “And I don’t plan on being nice about it either, John.”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ lady,” he cries like a little bitch. “Jungkook don’t tell us which warehouse he keeps the shipments in, that’s for the upper guys.”

John has about five seconds left before he goes knocking on God’s door.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re useless?” You deduce, grabbing his chin roughly to part his saliva-covered lips.

“No, no, no,” he pleads. “There’s someone at ARK that can get you the information you want.”

Sweat drips down his nose, mixing with the blood riddling his face. John’s bald, somewhere in his late thirties, and a whiner. He has a wedding band on his left hand, probably some kids too, not that any of it’s your concern.

You’d already cut off two of his fingers, stabbed his Achilles heel, and are coming close to slicing his tongue off. Normally, you like to play this thing slowly. The slower the better, the more likely the chance of getting whatever unfortunate fucker landed in your hands to spill the information you need.

John cringes away from the knife, tears bubbling out from beneath his lashes.

“Dude name is Tony. H-he’s one of the security guards. B-big n’ tall, huge snake tattoo on his face.”

You roll your neck, groaning as the muscles pop. It’s been a long fucking day, and you’re still wearing the damned hooker dress that Jimin had dropped off for you.

“Great, thanks,” you say casually as if you haven’t spent the past hour torturing him.

His breathing calms, and he looks up at you through his dull, ugly eyes and hope radiates from them. You almost laugh.

“So, y-you’ll let me go, right?” he asks, staring up at you like a little kid begging for a toy.

“Sure,” you say.

“Are you serious?” he pleads.

“No, John,” you grin. “I’m not.”

You swing your arm back and plunge the entirety of your knife through his temple.

He dies instantly, slumping forward against the rope that bonded him to the chair.

You slide your knife from his skull, the noise threatening to ruin your dinner plans. This is unfortunate because you’re really fucking hungry.

The knife squelches against the skin, taunting and unwilling to leave the flesh. And sure, while you enjoy a good torture session, you don’t get off on the sounds that accompany it.

Typically on a night like this, you’d dismember poor little John and then dump his remains into the cremator you and Jimin keep at a warehouse off the grid.

But, not tonight.

You weren’t even supposed to be on the clock, besides the obvious shit show that happened at ARK.

You sigh, pulling out your phone from your bra, and cringe at the sight of blood smudging onto the screen. It’ll be a bitch to clean later, so you wipe it down on your matching red dress.

going home. going to light a cig first.

Light a cig being code for burning down whatever building you’re in.

Shoving the phone back into your bra, you bend down to John’s level, searching through his pockets. Dude’s like him almost always have a smoking problem, and besides, the fucker smells like it too. Mixed with his own piss that is of course.

Your hand lands on the familiar plastic and you sigh thankfully, one less headache for you.

There’s a vibration against the shell of your tit and you straighten your back, pulling out the device again. Jimin’s name is written in bold letters atop your notification center.

good. come by my apartment.

Something inexplicably dark arises in your chest.

Jimin never asks you to come over.

You suck in your bottom lip, biting back a groan. Goodbye dinner it is.

Sure, why the hell not?

A ping sounds, and the doors to Jimin’s penthouse apartment open.

He lives fifteen or so minutes away from your own apartment, but on top of the already fifty-minute drive home from the barn— you’re not exactly thrilled by any account to be here.

He stands by the door, gaze entirely locked on yours and you can’t help but scowl. So what? It’s four in the damn morning and no human being should look this well put together at this hour.

Jimin wears black lounge trousers, a low-cut robe with embroidered flowering, and that damned rosary he can’t seem to ever take off.

“Come in,” he motions his head toward the inside of his apartment.

You nod, locking in your bottom lip as you slip past your boss. A sliver of something that shouldn’t be so pleasant curls in your stomach— the smell of the deep and citrus oceanic cologne he always has on invades your senses.

Jesus.

The feeling is so strong and sudden that you exhale a breath to try and push it away.

He steps into the apartment after you, and with a click, locks the door. This feels all too intimate.

“So?”

You blink.

“So?”

He sighs. “Jungkook.”

Fuck.

The chance of you admitting you performed a lap dance for Jeon Jungkook is zero. You’d cut your own tongue off before you ever admit that you might’ve slightly enjoyed it.

You sigh. “He wasn’t in. I’m going to call the front desk tomorrow.”

Jimin quirks a brow, and the playful tug to the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. He doesn’t believe a single word you just said.

You groan and turn around, making a beeline to the cloud couch he had you order last year. You sink into the white cushion and moan at the softness that envelopes your frame, it feels like heaven on Earth. Soft as hell and a hundred times better than the one in your own home.

“Where’s the dress?” Jimin appears from behind you, the hint of that smirk still remaining on his face— just the slightest curl in his lips. His eyes travel over your body, and you feel the intrusion.

You roll your eyes. You’ve changed into a skirt and long sleeve shirt. Not your best look, but it’s better than what Jimin deemed to be a dress. “I gave it to the hooker outside.”

He chuckles and the sofa beside you dips.

A beat passes and then Jimin says, “I’m going to have to fuck the information out of Miranda.”

You release a heavy breath at the sudden change of atmosphere. What the fuck is going on with him tonight?

Turning your head to face your boss, you watch his tongue travel over his bottom lip. His gaze drops to your exposed legs, and you subconsciously clench your thighs in response.

It’s too hot in here. Way too fucking hot. You have to divert the conversation somewhere else, somewhere where he isn’t devouring your skin like it’ll be his last meal.

“Jimin, is everything okay?”

He doesn’t break eye contact but the darkness envelops his eyes.

“No ___, it’s not.” He looks away momentarily to sigh, then meets your gaze again. “Jungkook wants me dead, and once he finds out about you he’ll kill you too. I just found out that he’s already on Hobi’s trail and now I’m gonna have to spend almost all my time playing prince charming for his annoying fucking sister when I just really want to spend my time fucking you.”

Your breath hitches and you have to look away from the fiery gaze. Diverge. Don’t think.

Not once in your career has Jimin made any moves on you. Hell, before tonight you hadn’t even stepped foot into his apartment. The thought of having sex with your boss had been only a mere daydream on your first night on the job, never again.

“Jimin, I don’t think that’s a good idea.“

Without hesitation, he shifts closer to you, hand touching the bare skin of your lower thigh. “Why not? I’ve had people breathing down my fucking neck every day all week. I can’t even fuck anymore because I’m too paranoid they’re a spy Jungkook’s sent on me.”

The confession has you blinking, shell-shocked. Since when has Jimin become this paranoid about Jungkook?

His body presses against yours, sandwiching you between him and the cushion. You stifle a gasp when he leans in and the warmness of his breath courses your lobe. “He knew who you were tonight.”

Everything stills, one second Jimin’s hovering over you, warm breath tickling your skin as your stomach does laps. The next, you’re pushing him off of you, sending him hurling off of the couch and backward. He regains his composure and inches forward again, like a predator about to devour its prey. He grabs both of your wrists to prevent you from clawing his eyes out of their sockets.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Jimin sent you into ARK when Jungkook knew what you looked like?

Holy shit.

Jungkook knows what you look like.

He knew tonight and still had you grinding on his hard cock.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the hurricane brewing in your chest.

Fuck, fuck. You’re going to lose your shit and possibly strangle your boss.

“I need you to calm down,” he grits against your hold, pushing his body completely onto yours, leaving you limp in his hold. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see what his reaction would be.”

You lock your gaze with his, anger dancing in all the curvatures of your face. You feel tiny and helpless encased in his hold. Even more, you’re surprised he has the strength to hold you like this, unmoving, unfaltering like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

What if Jungkook decided to kill you?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He leans in, warm breath caressing your lobe. “Doesn’t it excite you? That he played along with your little game, Joanna?”

“Jimin, I’m fucking serious, I—“

He’s so heavy on top of you, his chest moves rapidly as he presses further into you. You feel the apples of his cheeks rise against your neck, “Did you fuck him?”

This is too much. Too much all at once. You’re suffocating in Jimin’s scent, his breath, his voice.

You shake your head and close your eyes.

“You wanted to though, right?” He whispers amusingly.

He’s enjoying this. He’s bathing in your discomfort, the way your twitching against him, withering away from his hold, pushing your neck away, he basks in it. This should be wrong, it should terrify you.

Yet, it doesn’t. His weight feels good, it feels exhilarating to lose control for once. To be the given instead of the giver, to have your freedom stripped bare.

So, instead of screaming you confess, “Y-yes.”

Jimin hums, sending a wave of vibration through your neck. He licks a strip from the bottom to the shell of your lobe, “And do you want me to fuck you, too?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind draws a blank and the only thing that pounds through it is, yes, yes, yes.

“Yes.”

“What’d he tell you?” Jimin asks as he releases your wrists from his grip. You let them drop to the cushion without a fight.

He doesn’t stand from the couch, instead, he digs his knee further into the space between your opened legs and straightens his back. When your eyes meet, his eyes are dark, low, and filled with an intimacy you’ve never seen before from him.

“He said he doesn’t hire whores,” you sigh at the recollecting memory. The sounds of Jungkook’s laughter as he walked out of his office to call the guards fills your mind.

It’s Jimin’s very own laughter that drags you back to the present.

“How ironic,” He muses.

He’s terrifying like this, dominating you in every way possible as he looms above you. He undoes the piece of fabric keeping his robe pieced together and lets the sides fall. You flinch subconsciously when he raises his hand to grab your chin.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a whore, ___?”

You catch your breath at the monster before you. It’s not the words that leave you breathless, it’s the sweet smile accompanying them. The same one he gives you when he walks into the building in the afternoon, or when he hands you a check after a mission saying you’ve done a great. It’s welcoming, friendly, and utterly fucking terrifying.

This is a horrible idea. Slowly, you nod.

“Good.”

The sound comes first, then the realization. You blink repeatedly as your vision blurs, the impact so brutal it’s left you looking in the other direction. Then, the pain. Sizzling, stinging, and painfully hot. Your cheek will bruise, without a doubt. You moan.

When you turn your head around to face Jimin his smile only grows, wider and wider. He pushes his knee further into your cunt, the friction bringing it alive. “Again.”

This time, he hits the other cheek.

Adrenaline courses through your veins, it pulses in every one of your nerves, and it sends your body ablaze along with it. The pain feels so fucking good.

You want him to cut you open and eat you alive.

Without another word, Jimin pushes his knee off of the couch, cracks his neck, and points toward the exposed windows, “Strip.”

You oblige, following the command like a lost puppy. He backs away, giving you space as you push off of the couch and toss your clothes. Avoiding the intruding stare, you turn around and walk to where you know he wants you. The air in his apartment is freezing, leaving you with hard nipples and goosebumps.

The windows are completely open to the world.

Anyone in the other high rises will be able to see you. They can see you.

The city’s beautiful, shimmering lights keep it alive in the darkness. In the reflection of the glass, you see Jimin stalking toward you as if he has all the time in the world.

He stares at your legs, ass, and back, then he meets your gaze in the reflection. When he reaches your heel, his hands graze your stomach, and his lips meet the back of your neck in soft slow kisses. It’s when his hand pushes past your stomach and below your underwear that the ecstasy hits you.

He’s slow, painfully so, his middle finger slides through your folds and you feel teeth etch themselves into your shoulder. The cold metal of the ring grazing your clit finger sends a shiver down your spine, you release a groan and he bites harder on the flesh.

He rubs your clit with two fingers, allowing you to savor in the warming pulses rippling through your cunt. Through the pleasure, you feel him pushing his hard cock into your ass, grinding onto the exposed flesh.

You’re moaning like hell, unable to contain how good it feels to have someone dominating you, relishing in your body. He releases your clit and moves his fingers downward, instantly sticking two digits in your hole. The pain from how hard he’s biting into your shoulder, undoubtedly drawing blood, with how fast his fingers pulse in and out of you sends you into another dimension.

In the back of your mind, you hear the slow rhythm of The Weeknd’s song filling the air, transcending you back in time. Jungkook’s low growl and how hard his dick felt on your ass as you danced for him.

The fact that you made him hard even though he knew who you are.

The fact that he wanted to fuck you regardless of the idea that you possibly murdered his father.

He let you grind on him, feel all of him.

He wanted you.

You want him right now. Want to feel the swell of his cock again, hear him say those nasty arrogant words, and steal them from his lips.

“Just like that,” Jungkook growls against your ear.

You open your eyes, panting hard, it’s Jimin who stares back into the reflection, smirking at your battered form. You’re spasming all over his fingers, pussy pulsing in a rhythmic beat as you orgasm. You’re moaning, hands pressed flat against the glass.

Jimin doesn’t wait for you to finish riding the waves of your orgasm. He takes his fingers out of you, leaving your cunt clenching against nothing. You’re too occupied with calming your breaths to hear the fabric of his trousers tossing, to hear him his as he hisses when he uses the same fingers he used in you to wet his cock.

You do, however, feel him push your thong to the side and the swell of his cock at your entrance. You’re so ready, you’ve never been more ready for anything else. It’s been two fucking years. God, you can’t fucking think straight.

“Fuck me al—“

The words are stolen from you when Jimin pushes himself into you completely, he doesn’t let you catch your breath, doesn’t give you time to formulate any words, he just goes.

With one hand, he grabs the back of your neck and slams your face into the glass. The coldness of it feels good on your cheek, the mixture of the hard surface and the pounding has you grinding through your teeth, it’s too much. It encompasses you, filling you like nothing else in the world can.

Jimin fucks you relentlessly, pounding in you at light speed. He’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t stutter. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh fills the quietness of his apartment, you can’t help but moan.

“The world’s watching you.” He releases your neck, quickly switching over to grab a bundle of your hair and yank your head toward the flashing city.

It’s blurry, all over the place, and you moan like a whore for it.

“Watch them,” Jimin growls.

He’s fucking you faster than before, your stomach bubbles with the formation of a second orgasm. You can’t think, can’t breathe, you’re just taking. Taking Jimin’s cock as he gives it to you, as he takes everythingfrom you.

You close your eyes, and your head falls limp. Everything feels so slick, so wet. Jimin’s cock is easing in and out of you, his free hand grips your exposed boob, massaging it.

“Open your fucking eyes,” He releases your tit, slapping it before grabbing your chin to face the world before you. “Watch them as I fuck you.”

A muffled sound escapes you, he’s let go of your hair, exposed chest flat against your back as he continues thrusting.

“You’ll kill anyone for me,” He says, voice wavering in pleasure, “I just need to say the name.”

Your heart and head pound because he’s right. The second he says a name, the life has already been taken from them. They’ve been handed over to the Grim Reaper, and fuck, does Park Jimin own you.

Every command is his, and every action of yours is done by his accord.

Jimin’s hips are stuttering now, he’s mumbling something but you can’t get the thought out of your head, can’t hear the words.

You’ll do anything to fulfill his command. Anything.

Your stomach coils, and your pussy pulses faster than before. You feel Jimin’s falls hitting your cunt with each thrust and it feels too good. It’s too good, too overwhelming.

“Mine,” he moans, and then he’s stuttering, sloppily thrusting until he stops. He allows the milky liquid to spill into your cunt.

He continues to slowly thrust in you, pushing his cum further and further back into you. He’s claiming you. He’s fucking claiming you.

Your head falls limp, forehead against the glass and you breathe hard.

Jimin pulls out of you, hissing as the cold air envelops his dick. He slaps your ass and tugs his cock back into his trousers.

You can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think.

Mine, mine, mine.

Jimin’s words replay in your mind on an endless loop. His.

If you’re supposed to be his, then why can’t you seem to get a certain arrogant son-of-a-bitch’s face out of your head?

Reply 2 be added. Ty for reading.

@callmejimmeo @jasminperez18 @yoon2jk @jungkookminthairwhen @emogyus @nochuntae @hopesflwr @jmnrl @dracujin @bbyjmmns @virgojimi @jikukker @dollbabyg @ieonkrive @iholdkoo @namaslaylife @mini-mouser22 @greetieweetie @ohyeakjk @sugatalus @kooikk @vanteskku @duskvk @ggukssluvrr @sweetempathprunetree @monilyv @jkoomimi @jessieeq1986 @koozip @jjkuteu @naaktj @kooliv @yourslut16 @luvrkoo @jamlesstars @purrbangtann @scientisterror @darkuni63 @prudyhoo @nochubabystarcandy @wonieeee @st3ft0n3s @manjir0 @mdibby

602 notes · View notes

minminho0 · 1 year

Text

✤------------------------------------------✤

◈The one◈

✤------------------------------------------✤

-Angst - Fluff

⏤͟͟͞͞ Part 1 - Anything Please

Summary: After he left you still processing that he already had a girlfriend, you decided to move on but did you really move on?

Gender: Female

Warnings: --

A/n: feel free to correct my grammar!

i suddenly had motivation after using it up all bcz of a single comment💀

I hope you enjoy~!

After the day you found out about his girl friend, you distance yourself from him but like did he even notice, its no use since he already distanced himself.

The new girlfriend is far more better than you.

Since Kazuha is quite adventurous himself, of course he wants a lover the same as him, so of course he'll never pick you, as his girl friend at least.

You waited for him for so long just for him to found another, its time for you to go.

You have so many failed attempts of moving on cuz each time you just unconsciously wait at the door and think about him.

You felt bad because he already have a girlfriend and your here thinking about him romantically.

You tried dating a couple of guys since your pretty popular, its quite easy but each time you keep thinking about him which clearly the dating thing isnt working.

You decided to just move away because your home just reminds you of him.

You went to Monsdant since its peacful and calm there, you never told Kazuha because why would he care? He forgot about you so its fair and besides your mom is living there so it wouldn't be that hard.

The next few days, you were looking for someone to sell your house and you finally found one.

You gave your keys to the seller after packing all your things.

A few weeks later you got the money from selling the house and gave half of it to your mother.

Kazuha's pov:

"How can she do this to me? Did i do something wrong?" I said as tears roll down my cheek.

How could she? After all ive done for her..i even left y/n because she feels uncomfortable!

How could she cheat on me...

I thought, memories w her flashing before my eyes and then suddenly she popped up.

Ha?

Y/n?

What?

Oh ya..i remember...she was the one who comforted me all that time.

She was...

She was the one.

Calming myself down, i immediately went to her house, hoping that we didn't drift apart that far.

I rang the doorbell and i was greeted with silence.

I rang it again and this time, someone finalky opened the door but wasn't the one i were hoping for sadly.

"Oh um hello, do you need anything?"

"Oh um- who are you?"

"Uh the owner of this house, why?"

"No youre not..."

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, where's Y/n?"

"Y/n? Idk who that is but i can reassure you, no one here is named y/n."

"Oh ok.."i mumbled, wondering what happened while he was gone.

I heard the door close which startled me.

I quickly run to places where she could possibly went but to no avail.

I searched everywhere but she was nowhere to be seen.

Today im going to Monsdant still thinking about where she could be.

Once i stepped foot at the land of Monsdant, i immediately went to a small village to ask people if he could rest at their place for a few hours.

While he was roaming around, he suddenly saw..

"Y/n?"i murmured, frozen at my spot.

"Ha?"

Your pov:

"Ha?" I turned around, hearing someone call my name.

'Kazuha!? What is he doing here?'you immediately truned on your heels but before you could walk off someone held your shoulder.

"Y/n?"

"Mhm?" You turned your head and cane face to face with him.

"Ive been looking for you! why didn't you tell me you went here?"

"Oh sorry i forgot" you reapeted the words he told you a long time ago.

"Im so sor-" before i can tell my apology and my love for her, i was suddenly cut off.

Anger slowly building up inside you but soon came down when you heard a familiar voice.

"Y/n~!"

"You two looked at the person, his face confuse while yours happy.

"Oh? Who might you be~?"

"Who are you?"

"I asked you first but oh well, my name is Venti! And can you please let go of my precious s/o"

"S/o!?"

"Mhm~? Is there a problem?"

"Oh-..uh no.." He slowly let go of you, cursing at himslef for doing that to you, now he was to late.

"It was nice meeting you and your boyfriend..hope you two have a nice life"

He turned his body around and slowly walked off with a heavy heart.

Kazuha's pov:

I finally found a place to rest but how can i rest when all i think about is her?

Honestly i knew about her huge crush towards me but i cant believe i ignored it and now.

*sigh*

Sitting up from the bed and pouring myself a glass of water when suddenly i saw them together..having fun.

"I was really to late ha?"

I went back at the bed and slept praying that this was just a dream.

*Masterlist*

Hiii!! Hope you enjoyed it~!

Thx for the sudden boost of motivation @luvnoya

Have a nice day~!

-February 28, 2023

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maxsix · 3 months

Text

"Okay, I’ve got some news.” Hongjoong says as he sits down at the dinner table. “The NASA flight team offered me a job training their new pilots and um, I said Yes.”

“Yeah, we already about knew that.” Wooyoung says as he attempts to rewire a black and green lego robot named ‘Duke Lego’.

Yunho perks up in attention, leaning forward to peer closely at his older brother’s face, no doubt searching for signs of hidden reckless agendas. It reminds Hongjoong of the German Shepherd puppy they had when they were kids.

“When you say ‘job’, what does that mean exactly?”

“It’s just training some new pilots in a simulator. The facility is only half an hour away from here. I won’t be gone for long, just once a week. I’ll still keep my old job but we could really use the extra money.”

“Can I come?” Wooyoung asks, carefully resting Duke Lego on the table.

“No.”

“Why not?! You said I could!”

Yunho observes his brothers with judgement. “Seriously, Hongjoong? You said he could go? To NASA? This guy? Because that’ll end well.”

“Shut up Yunho!” Wooyoung scowls. “I know more about this than you!”

Hongjoong waves his hand to silence the bickering. “My first day is tomorrow. It’ll just be meeting the pilots and going through some routine training. Nothing crazy.”

“So I could technically go.” Wooyoung reasons, “If it’s nothing crazy? I won’t touch anything I swear!”

“Still no.”

“Will Seonghwa be there? Can I show him my robots?”

“No!”

“Wait, what if I want to go too?” Yunho interjects. “Nobody asked me if I wanted to go!”

“Neither of you are going!” Hongjoong groans. “At least, not on my first day. I’m just telling you all this so you know where I’ll be. The Park Uncles will watch out for you while I’m gone.”

“We don’t need a babysitter.” Yunho rolls his eyes. “Well I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Wooyoung echoes.

“Sorry about your personal opinions on that but you’re both going to the Mill, they still need a lot of help with all the summer holiday orders. I’ll see you at around dinner time.”

Both younger brothers look like they want to keep protesting but when nothing else comes out, Hongjoong dismisses them to their rooms for the night so he can prepare himself for tomorrow.

He’s already read the information pack front to back, several times, but NASA seems to have left out one important detail: what on earth they expected him to wear. It has him standing in front of his small closet for a good five minutes, deciding nothing but concluding it’s been at least year since he’s actually bought new clothes.

Apart from the one black suit reserved for weddings and funerals, there’s a few plain t-shirts, cargo pants at various stages of life, assorted shirts he never wears, random items that Yunho had outgrown and his favourite dark brown leather jacket. He has two pairs of work boots, identical except for their colour. It wasn’t much of a selection.

But then again, he hasn’t had to dress for any other occasions lately. As much as Jonghoon hassles him about it, dating in the time of global death is just not in the cards, not now and likely not ever.

Ascending down the stairs the next day, he knows he’s worn the wrong thing because instead of the usual ‘good morning’ he’s just greeted with a burst of laughter. Maybe the white button down shirt was slightly too tight across the chest and maybe the black trousers had shrunken to the point where even walking was a little difficult.

“You look like an accountant Michelin man.” Yunho cackles. “You can’t seriously go out like that!”

Wooyoung’s wheezes don’t even pause to comment and Hongjoong wonders if he might choke on his breakfast at some point.

Defeated, he trudges back upstairs and settles for his least grease stained black cargo pants, the least faded black t-shirt and his leather jacket. Maybe he’ll be under dressed but at least he’ll feel like himself and it’s what the boys are used to seeing him in.

“Is this better? It’s still professional right?” Hongjoong asks, pointing to the new outfit. “Do I look like I know my shit?”

“Well, kind of?” Yunho nods, answering truthfully as he chews his toast. “But do you actually know your shit?”

Hongjoong lets the swearing slide this one time. “Yeah, of course. Kind of.”

Wooyoung stops eating breakfast long enough to tell Hongjoong that he looks smart and professional enough for NASA. With his head of dishevelled black hair and an old crumpled t-shirt stolen from Yunho, the fourteen year old isn’t exactly a qualified fashion expert but the approval is appreciated nonetheless.

“Thanks, Kiddo.” Hongjoong smiles. “And that’s why you’re my favourite.”

“Hey!” Yunho protests before deciding that the marmalade loaded toast in his hand was more important. “Ugh, whatever.”

The wall clock reads 8 a.m and Hongjoong wants to get to the facility early, just in case. He leans down to bite the opposite end of Yunho’s toast and ruffle his hair before rushing out the door, only grimacing once at the obscene amount of marmalade he just swallowed.

“Uncle Moonie will come get you in an hour. Be good. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He’s waved off with a duet of low energy mumbles, as if he was just leaving for a trip to the local grocery store and not a highly classified job at NASA.

The truck is just about to set off when Hongjoong notices an envelope on the dashboard, ’LEGOjira’ is scrawled across the front in Wooyoung’s handwriting and inside there’s a small black and red robot figurine shaped like the famous prehistoric monster.

He sticks it on the dashboard.

Teenagers.

The facility is a large converted warehouse that used to manufacture car parts and machinery. NASA gutted it clean and trucked in the simulator and flight control room for the instructors. It all sits on a large plot of government acquired land that’s surrounded by gravel, concrete and layers of metal fencing. Trying to appear unobtrusive and nondescript always had the opposite effect but then again, maintaining a certain public facade wasn’t something many people cared about these days, even at corporations like NASA.

There are three security gates going in and Hongjoong holds onto his ID tag like his life depended on it. The security guards here still wear the same crisp regulation uniforms and Hongjoong definitely feels like he and his dusty truck are underdressed.

NASA told him he would be granted full security clearance here, a fact which does nothing to stop the nausea from churning around his stomach as he drives through. Maybe his mind has tried to move on but his body still remembers the trauma of training. NASA also never specified how much of his disobedience would show up on his records and he half expects something unfavourable to ping on a computer somewhere along the way.

“Name and ID please sir.”

“Kim Hongjoong. I’m here for the flight training.”

He hands over his ID and watches nervously as the guard confirms his name on the electronic database, reads the screen excruciatingly slowly, eyes him for a few intense seconds, before handing back the ID badge and buzzing the gates open.

“Carpark is to the left Mr Kim.”

There’s another ID check point on the other side of the carpark. Then another at the entrance to the building itself. Nothing pings and nobody has to know about the way his stomach unknots itself in relief.

Once the truck is parked and Hongjoong is walking towards the simulation centre, he sees a young boy, he guesses around Yunho’s age, running ahead of him in a hurry. The sight of the familiar blue training jumpsuits causes something to catch in Hongjoong’s chest and his footsteps falter on the pavement. Memories of his training years flash through his mind again, some good, some terrible, and while it’s not something he could call PTSD, it’s not exactly without complicated feelings either.

“Kim Fucking Hongjoong.” A familiar deep voice calls out from behind.

He knows that voice.

He’d recognise that voice anywhere in the universe.

“Choi Fucking Seungcheol.”

A grin takes over his face as he turns to take in the unexpected appearance of his old friend and mentor: still tall, still committed to black shirts that could never fully contain his broad and solid chest, still letting his dark hair grow longer than it should be, still an imposing presence despite the lopsided smile he’s wearing now.

Still hugs like a bear.

“What are you even doing here?!” Hongjoong shakes his head in disbelief. “Did they drag you out of retirement, old man? How did they even find you?"

“I’m only three years older than you, you little shit!” Seungcheol reprimands gently with a push. “They must be real desperate dragging two decommissioned liabilities back.”

“They didn’t tell me you’d be here.” Hongjoong says. “If I knew, I would’ve said yes a long time ago.”

“They didn’t tell me either.” The older man says as they walk to the simulation centre together. “Typical NASA. Those sneaky bastards.”

“How did they even find you? I heard you skipped town once your brothers graduated.”

Seungcheol nods again. “I did. We moved a few towns over, made a life running the textile plant there. Too many bad memories here, you know? But they found me in the end. Guess you can never really outrun your past, huh?”

Hongjoong hums in understanding.

"I’m sorry about your family. I’m sorry we didn’t keep in touch, it’s just been -“

Seungcheol claps him on the shoulder and chuckles. “Don’t apologise. Things have been a nightmare for everyone. I didn’t want to be found, you could’ve tried your best and I wouldn’t have been ready to come back. I told the first three suits they sent to fuck off but gotta hand to that last snotty one for his persistence. How’d they get you?”

“Got caught at their headquarters accidentally.”

“Breaking and entering? Again? Of course you did.” Seungcheol shakes his head laughing. “Some things never change.”

Hongjoong shrugs, smiling. “So have you been okay though?After …everything?”

“Can’t complain. The knee is fucked up now so I doubt they’ll actually let me fly again but the brain is still in working order so I guess they want me to use it to train these new kids. What about you? I’m sorry to hear about your family too.”

“Well, it’s been a lot since I left training but me and boys have been okay. I can’t complain much either.”

They finally reach the entrance to the simulation centre, Seungcheol pauses to swipe his badge and gives Hongjoong another lopsided grin.

“Ready to meet the next bunch of psychopaths?”

“Well, they can’t be any worse than us.”

There are eight basic trainees in total. Five males and three females. All far too young. All wearing grim serious expressions on their faces as they are introduced to their new instructors by Yeosang, who was no doubt sent by the Directors to watch over the proceedings, in case it was another PR disaster. Hongjoong doesn’t mind, he’s just relieved to see another familiar face.

“As you know, Dr Lee and Commander Song have been urgently required on another mission. I would like you to welcome your new flight instructors, Commander Choi Seungcheol and Pilot Kim Hongjoong. They have updated your flight manual and I expect you to treat them with the same level of respect here.”

Hongjoong doesn’t miss the way there’s a ripple of surprised murmurs when their names are called out. He knows it’s not all positive, rumours travel far and their reputations tend to crash into rooms before they do.

Yeosang watches the group closely but doesn’t pause, instead he launches straight into orientation of the venue and vital safety procedures before allowing the trainees a small break to inspect the rest of the facilities. Hongjoong tries to remember if he ever looked that young, optimistic and impressionable.

He wonders when he suddenly felt so old.

Yeosang ushers them into the simulation control room, a smaller replica of NASA’s actual flight control deck, where they would be spending most of their time running the simulations.

“Thank you both for honouring your commitment to the mission. I apologise for not informing you of your fellow instructor’s identity but well, we weren’t sure if you’d have agreed to it otherwise.”

“Bit of a risky gamble isn’t it Kang?” Seungcheol says, “Thought NASA was all about mitigating risks.”

“Last time we tried to contact you, you told us to go to hell, repeatedly. It was always going to be a risk."

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Ok listen, you dragged me out of retirement for this so cut to the chase and give us the run down on this squad. What do we need to know about these kids?”

Yeosang purses his lip at the demanding tone but nevertheless, keeps his cool long enough to provide them with a folder containing the profiles of each trainee.

Hongjoong flips through each one before something catches his eye. It’s the profile of the boy he saw running past him this morning.

“Woah, woah, wait a second.”

“What is it?”

“It says here that this kid is sixteen.” Hongjoong says, pointing to the profile page of the male trainee.

Seungcheol flips to the same page and starts chuckling to himself. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“He’s way too young, Yeosang.” Hongjoong says, shaking his head. “You can’t put a sixteen year old into orbit! I get that these are desperate times and we’re the last two people to talk about regulations and ethics but this is a step too far.”

Yeosang folds his hands neatly in his lap and takes a breath, like he’s been prepared for this question all his life.

“He is sixteen and it is his legal right to apply for training. He will not be the first selected for active duty and he will not be approved to fly until he is at least eighteen.” Yeosang says in what Hongjoong now knows is his “NASA PR” voice.

“May I remind you that while we need pilots in the immediate present, we also need to plan ahead for future missions. Training the reserves starts now."

“He’s younger than Yunho!” Hongjoong says in exasperation as he scans the rest of the profile. “Where did you find this one anyway?”

“He’s an orphan.” Yeosang says plainly, causing them both to look up. “His parents died in a farming accident a few years ago. He’s alive because he was at school that day. There were no surviving relatives so he was cared for by a generous family then enrolled in the NASA Children’s Space Program once his academic and physical abilities were made known.”

Since the global crop pandemic everyone had a sad backstory to tell, but even Hongjoong regrets asking this one.

“He grew up at NASA.” Yeosang continues. “He’s as familiar with our facilities and operation protocols as you two are. It wasn’t a random choice born out of desperation, he demonstrated potential and earned his way into this program. Don’t forget that you were both also teenagers when you joined.”

“That was eight years ago.” Hongjoong counters. “You know it was a different time then. We had strict training regimens that were monitored by multiple departments, it wasn’t just two de-commissioned pilots in a warehouse.”

“I assure you that we have tried our best to replicate the rigorous training program that you were subject to. The trainees have all passed the physical boot camp without complication. Due to their age, the younger ones haven’t completed the theory component yet but Seonghwa, Doctor Park, has been tutoring them and we expect they will do well on their final assessments.”

“It’s not good enough to do well.” Seungcheol says with a frown. ‘Doing well’ barely gets you into the air. Doing the best is what gets you back home in one piece. Is your selection criteria still a total nightmare? Are they still getting regular psychiatric assessments?”

“Yes.” Yeosang confirms.

“Good. They’ll need it.”

“The report from Dr Lee and Commander Song says they have all passed basic training and familiarisation with the simulators.” Hongjoong reads out. “But nobody got a perfect score or anything close to it.”

“That’s why you’re both here.” Yeosang reminds them. “We need to separate the best from the good. Half of this group won’t make it. We all know that and so do they.”

“You think your sixteen year old will?”

Yeosang smiles again, an unsettling combination of threatening and serene. “Depends if his instructors are any good.”

The first training session was mostly spent on familiarisation with the simulator in its new home and ironing out any electrical issues. Between short civil exchanges and longer technical lectures, there wasn’t much time to hear any whispers about either instructor’s dismissals but Hongjoong can sense the unease. They don’t trust Seungcheol. They don’t trust him.

NASA never revealed how much of their dismissal was made public. The disciplinary hearings had been private and a team of lawyers made sure the case never made the news but there were still plenty of rumours. Hongjoong knows the trainees want to ask but it’s not the type of information he wants to provide to people he doesn’t yet trust either.

Between the two of them, Seungcheol is the more experienced: a flight prodigy at the age of seventeen, military pilot at eighteen and in possession of an IQ that made his academic career look easy. He had led several successful missions and logged in twice the amount of flight hours as his nearest counterpart at the time. With such a rare gift and understanding of aerodynamics, Seungcheol was consider on track to become one of NASA’s most decorated commanders.

Hongjoong had met Seungcheol in the first month of his aerospace training, he was fresh out of military service but still lacked any real discipline. NASA had accepted him based on his test scores and aptitude for flying, hoping that the brutal training program would smooth out his wild edges and if that failed, then giving him the toughest mentor in the program would hopefully do the rest.

It was a gamble that paid off.

Seungcheol was known for being academically and physically intimidating. Around the same time, Hongjoong was developing his own reputation as the uncontrollable rebel in the program. They had few actual friends and maybe it was due to this that they hit it off; with Hongjoong being one of the few trainees who refused to be intimidated by someone else’s brilliance and Seungcheol endlessly amused by the younger trainee’s stubbornness.

“An immovable object meets an unstoppable force.” Professor Park had once said, joking that they were the only two who could deal with each other without causing injury to public property.

Seungcheol had set him straight as best he could. Not with gentle coddling words or shouting loud threats but leading by example and teaching Hongjoong what it truly meant to work hard, bear responsibility, accept consequences and ultimately, become a man of service.

But he couldn’t teach him everything in the time they had.

There’s no cure for a rebellion in the blood.

When Hongjoong was dismissed for disobeying direct orders during a mission, Seungcheol had stood up at the disciplinary hearing to call the Directors out on their hypocritical bullshit. It had been a career death for the both of them: Hongjoong was denied any qualifications and Seungcheol’s once promising career abruptly came to an end.

They were both forced to move on, and they have for the most part, any bitterness that still lingered didn’t have much of a target anymore. The Board of Directors from that time were now either dead or retired. There really wasn’t anyone left to complain to.

“How do you want to run the simulations?” Seungcheol asks him now.

“You lead.” Hongjoong replies. “You have more experience.”

“You just want me to be the Bad Cop.”

“Well, if the shoe fits….”

“Okay, you punk.” Seungcheol snorts. “In that case, I want to start with scenario three. I don’t want to do the exercises in order, what’s the point of simulation training if they know what to expect.”

Hongjoong smiles, “Just admit that you want to see them sweat.”

Seungcheol feigns offence, placing a hand on his chest like he’s wounded. “I am here to teach. If someone cries along the way, then we’ll have a whole day to discuss the hazards of tears in space.”

It doesn’t exactly go down well.

“Commander Choi?”

“Yes?”

“We haven’t completed scenario two yet.”

“I know.” Seungcheol says, “We will be completing the scenarios out of order. If you have memorised the new manual then none of this should be a surprise.”

“But-”

The trainee is quickly silenced when Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow in their direction.

“Any other relevant questions? No? Good. You’ll be flying solo, oldest to youngest, let’s get to it.”

Scenario three involved problem solving through a failed launch procedure. Each trainee was expected to demonstrate proficiency in running the launch sequence check and identifying the critically abnormal fuel temperature in the quickest time possible, anything beyond five minutes would be considered catastrophic in real life and an immediate fail in simulation.

“Kang Seulgi. 4:15. Your launch routine lacks focus and precision, stop wasting your time.”

“Kim Mingyu. 4:00. You are too slow to report, it would’ve cut your time by more than 10 seconds. I expect faster communication next time.”

“Kang Taehyun. 3:50. You almost missed two other launch check points. Stick to your routine. Bad habits raise bad pilots.”

One by one, they watch the pilots navigate through the simulations with varying degrees of success. They’ve been decent enough, all able to pass, but there’s no standout.

Seungcheol sighs and sits back in his chair, his once crisp shirt now creased and rolled up to his elbows. “This isn’t good enough. They’re not good enough. Maybe they won’t die at launch but this type of crew won’t survive a single orbit if they stay like this.”

Hongjoong hums in thought, making the notes for their evaluation report. Part of him agrees with Seungcheol’s frank assessment: the young trainees were inconsistent, either making mistakes in haste or slowing down in panic. The other part of him knows this is basic training, there was still advance training and final flight training to go.

But bad habits do raise bad pilots and now wasn’t the time for any leniency.

Still, they couldn’t both be the Bad Cop.

“At least we know what we’re working with now. It’s something to build on.”

“We haven’t had a total disaster yet, so I’ll give them that, but we were both minutes faster than this. You did this in under three minutes.”

“Well, you did it in under two.” Hongjoong says, flipping to the final candidate. “Ready to see the last kid?”

Seungcheol nods. “This should be interesting.”

They restart the simulation and watch as a dark head of hair and some thin broad shoulders make their way into the booth.

With the lights dim, sound playing and motion detector track running, the simulation was hyper realistic and easily overwhelming for new trainees. Every warning light was accurate, every sound and alarm identical to the real thing and if you crashed, the impact was very much felt.

“This is flight control, proceed with your launch check.”

The kid is quick to process, very quick, and follows a launch check routine that feels eerily familiar. He reports the abnormal fuel temperature within two minutes but then stalls to call mission abort. It pings something in Hongjoong’s head that both thrills and concerns him.

“This is flight control, you have a panel of warning lights and alarms. What’s your status report?”

“The fuel temperature is not in target range. I ran diagnostics and all the other equipment appears to be functioning correctly.”

“What is your next step pilot?”

“I…..I need to correct the fuel temperature.”

Seungcheol looks over to Hongjoong with a curious expression but lets the simulation continue.

They watch as the teenager tries, without success, to turn off all the warning alarms. He is methodical but frustrated and quick to lose his cool, a trait that only years of training and experience can overcome.

“This is flight control, there are critical error warnings on our end, what is your status report.”

“No, I can do this!” The trainee shouts, sounding every bit the sixteen year old they read about. “Sorry, Flight control, I… I ran diagnostics on the fuel temperature again but I can’t get any updated readings on it, I don’t know if it’s working or not, the telemetry is unreliable…”

As the clock counts down, Hongjoong is muttering for the teenager to just give them the right answer.

He barely makes it.

“Flight control, launch is futile. Request to abort mission!”

“This is flight control, mission abort confirmed.”

Seungcheol takes his headset off and sits back with a strained sigh. “What a damn maniac. Remind you of someone?”

“He does.” Hongjoong nods, concerned but fascinated why their youngest trainee would even try something usually reserved for advanced flight training. “He was trying to save the launch with a manoeuvre they don’t teach until advanced training.”

“You know that’s almost a fail.”

“He was fastest in finding the abnormality and the only one to question telemetry accuracy.” Hongjoong counters as he watches the teenager climb out of the simulator.

They had expected some slumped shoulders or physical evidence of defeat but what emerges is a body that stands tall, defiant, and coiled with anger. There’s a scowl on his face, like he already knows how badly he messed up. Whatever critique he gets from Seungcheol is unlikely to be as brutal as his inner monologue right now.

“That’s a future liability, right there.” Seungcheol says, shaking his head. “Ballsy though.”

“Well he is sixteen.”

“With an IQ of 140 and about 8 different bad habits. That’s like giving a missile a brain and mental health problems.”

“Geez, Seungcheol, he’s still just a kid. Put him out of his misery, I think he’s about to break something in there.”

“Choi San. 4:50.”

#Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity #Ateez #Ateez AU #Ateez fic #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #wooyoung #yeosang #Ad Astra stuff #this will also posted on A03 later if you prefer to read it on there #it's a little complicated again but let me know if you need something clarified

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becauseplot · 4 months

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it’s Stupid Hours (aka way too early in the morning) and after 0.2 seconds of searching on YouTube ive come to the conclusion that there is no qsmp John Mulaney “The One Thing” animatic yet and ive gotta say guys. im disappointed.(/lh) im so used to every fandom having at least one The One Thing animatic that realizing there isn’t one for qsmp is bonkers to me. i’ve watched so many of these over the years that if you played The One Thing audio, i could probably recite it in time w the audio (i won’t say from memory bc my memory is shit.)

anyway here’s what i would personally do for a The One Thing animatic if i could draw. remember that this is gonna be skewed to the POVs im more familiar with so im sorry if your cubito doesn’t make it into the role you’d expect. i tried to include as many people as possible.

Edit: "Back in high school..." - not really necessary, but i imagine this story/"AU" taking place during the egg disappearance, which would explain the overly chaotic behavior of the islanders. not that they ever need a reason to be chaotic.

Narrator - Charlie. he’s not on the server as often but bc of that he would make a good “outside” pov narrator. also he’s just a got a really quick-with-it type of humor, cracking jokes and puns and doing wordplay/inprov’d songs at the drop of a hat, and he also loves telling stories.

Mr. Macnimara - Cucurucho. “And Mr. Macnimara was an asshole.” need i say more?

Jake Macnimara - Jaiden. beloved bird of the Federation, though that absolutely would not stop her from throwing a wild party for her friends in their offices if she could. Edit: also Quackity would make a really good option here. Cringefail man that the Federation likes to toy with, we love to see it. Also with his shit luck it makes sense that a party that he decides to host at the Fed offices (a bad idea in the first place tbf) would blow up in his face so hard.

(Bonus: Mrs. Macnimara - the Duck. the Watcher. ElQuackity. idk who’s funnier just whoever your heart desires.)

“And we all got up individually and thought: okay, let’s go over there, and destroy the place.” - split screen of Cellbit, Baghera, Maxo, and Bad. there could be more, like Mike, Etoiles, Phil, Tubbo, really anyone who hates the Federation and/or has an affinity for chaos. Foolish would be a really fucking funny option for this one because yeah he works for the Feds but He Absolutely Would. all of the characters would get up calmly, and on the word “destroy” flip to a Chaos Mode Engaged expression (Cellbit with a grin and bloodstains on his cheeks, Baghera w flames behind her and in her eyes, etc etc)

“People were drinking like it was the civil war and a doctor was coming to saw our legs off” - Tubbo and his backpack of 3749588383 chainsaws. tazerraft could also be a good option considering Pac’s love of beheading people and Mike’s generally unhinged behavior. tbh just anyone/everyone in morning crew.

Person who breaks the pool table - Etoiles. someone would dare him to and he’d get so fucking excited he would absolutely HURL himself at that pool table. (dogboy behavior)

Person who takes a shit on the computer - … look ive been blankly staring at this one for like 7 fucking minutes. my heart says Aypierre but i could not tell you why. just. anyone who would absolutely do some rancid, unhinged shit when given the opportunity. Foolish again maybe. idk.

Edit: "Something something, police." - Jaiden, if she isn't Jake Macnimara. She would totally say it in a "LOL UH-OH" manner. If not, I could also imagine Missa, Bagi, or Fit nervously/bluntly trying to warn people while laughing.

“Fuck da police!” - “Fuck da Feds!”/“Fuck da Federation!” from what i can tell, Charlie doesn’t have an active animosity towards the Federation, but a lot of his friends do, and he will do anything, ANYTHING to commit to the bit. he will do ANYTHING for the funnies, and if he thinks that shouting “Fuck da Feds!” at the top of his lungs is going to get a reaction out of people, he absolutely will.

Edit: "'I served my nickel, you come and take me!' confidence." - Mike. I have such a strong mental image of Mike drunkenly shouting this while Pac and Fit hold him up/hold him back. Fuga references my beloved. Also the fact that he was put in a Fed freezer for a while.

The Police - the Federation workers. obviously. bonus points for one unnamed guard/officer being impressed like “wooooow :0” and then widening the shot to reveal an unamused Agent 18 standing next to them, leaning into his walkie talkie saying, “Get the paddy wagon.”

“SCATTER!” - Phil. (if you know you know.) generally, people who don’t know Phil tend to think he’s pretty chill, so no one would expect him to do something like that. also when Charlie says “And my friend John—” it would cut to a ‘pause screen’ over the scene, Charlie coming on screen to clarify the “father” and “baby” parts by providing helpful pop-up images of family pictures with Chayanne, Tallulah, and Missa on screen. Resumes, presses play and the screen clears: “He grabbed a 40…”

Edit: "Until, two years later..." - again, not really necessary, but it could be something like, "Until, after Purgatory..."

Alex (guy who stole the photos) - Roier. HEAR ME OUT. Roier, similar to Phil, is just such an unassuming guy. he’s cheery and laughs a lot and cracks jokes, but deep down, he’s smart and he’s got a burning HATRED for the Federation. he’s not the kind of guy to start fights, but with everyone else causing chaos at the party, breaking shit in the offices/house, he would absolutely take the opportunity to steal Federation documents for his husband’s investigations. (or antique photos, if you want to keep with the high school setting/theme.) i mean he stole a fucking lamp from their offices once just because there was so much shit going on and he knew the Feds probably wouldn’t notice (iirc).

Edit: SOMETHING I FORGOT TO MENTION ABOUT ROIER. you could totally make the line “because it’s the one thing you can’t replace” a reflection of Bobby, who the Federation ‘killed’, so now he’s getting back at them. (i’ve put way too much thought into this.)

anyway that’s all! feel free to contribute if u want i just really love The One Thing. it’s an older fandom meme but yeah it still checks out.

(the sheer number of edits to this thing really speaks to how much it lives in my head lmaooo. there's more details but im not gonna include them here bc they're too visual.)

#qsmp #<-might take this off main tags idk yet #dont mind me im just rambling #i spent an hour on this #im so ffuckin sleepy

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silenthearts · 1 year

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Hello! I know I have not posted writing in ages! I also know that I have many requests in my inbox but Ive just need really disappointed with my writing so I have refrained from writing anything. However this is just something that popped into my mind! I may add to it if you guys wanna continue reading ☺️

Drug dealer Ellie (this is quite angsty tbh so prepare for feelings 🧷)

Warning: this includes sensitive topics like drug dealing, gang fights, weed, alcohol,death, implied sexual content, please read at your own risk.

"There's no way." you tell her as you move hastily throughout your apartment. You've been searching for your keys for at least half an hour and they seem to be nowhere to be found. You wonder if you've left them in your car or in the library, maybe the coffee shop but right now, Dina's proposal is fully occupying your brain. You aimlessly continue to look through the same places you've definitely looked before.

"Look, it's just one party, it's not gonna kill you" she tells you as you flip all the pillows on your couch for maybe the 4th time since you started looking.

"That's not the point-"

"Then what is!" She cuts you off and you stop on your tracks and sigh.

"Listen, you need to have some fun, all you do is work and study, work and study, it's time you have a little break!" She gets up from her awkward position on the couch and holds you by the shoulders "for me?" She pouts and tries to meet your gaze even if you're trying to avoid hers.

Your eyes finally meet her pleading ones, you give her a big eye roll and and finally find yourself giving in as she exaggerates her pout even more.

"Fine" you sigh "Yes!" She squeals and pulls you into a tight hug, which you begrudgingly accept.

You would rather not go to this party. Not that you don't like partying or anything, you kind of enjoy them a bit too much, but not this one in particular. You can admit that you have been mostly focusing on work and studying, and cleverly avoiding anything to do with Frat Parties. Or specifically, anything to do with Ellie.

"Oh I found your keys" she says as you're about to start looking again. She startles you by grabbing them from underneath her on the couch and chucking them at you.You barely manage to grab them and with a huff you quickly make your way through to the front door.

XXX

You sit awkwardly on the very far side of a black leather couch. The brim of the old coffee table digs into your exposed knees as the couple beside you continue making out. You wonder if they're going to do it right there next to you. You scowl at the possibility and scan the busy living room around you.

Dina had long left you for Jessie who dragged her immediately up the stairs. Dina shot you a 'sorry but not Sorry' look as Jessie held her hand and pulled her urgently up the steps, snaking through the people speckled around. Of course, you'd end up in an awkward corner with your peach iced tea holding steady in your hand as the pair next to you dry humps each other, her elbow sometimes digging onto your back and spilling just a little more of your drink. You didn't drink, you weren't a drinking person, not unlike someone you knew.

The faces around you were mostly unknown, with the knowledge of a few of Ellie's clients. You knew she'd been lurking around tonight. Mostly because of the drunken jock doing lines of cocaine in front of you.

You hope she would never find you in the main room of the house, she likes lurking around wherever the whisky and weed are. So you force yourself to sit in the busiest, loudest rooms of the house, all to avoid her. People dance around you in the huge space, a disco ball spins and different renditions of 2000's pop music dubstep remixes play loudly through the massive speaker set.

You wonder how anyone could live in this house.

Suddenly you feel the couch pillow under you disappear as you lose your balance and finally after so much bouncing and pushing and shoving, you end up falling in the middle of a group that stood next to you.

Xxx

You find the garden after mortifyingly leaving as the group of rowdy drunken people laughed at you. Maybe running into Ellie wouldn't be so bad now.

"You seem to be having a good night" Shit.

"Yeah, I was" you sigh, your wet striped t-shirt clinging to your damp torso and showing the old ratty sports bra you refuse to throw out. She sighs and takes a drag out of her joint, offering it to you as a habit. And as a habit you take it and take a drag before your mind can say no, the habit of your normal ritual sipping into your muscles. You hate that your body acts before your mind does, it's how you got into this situation in the first place.

"I haven't seen you in a while… you don't answer my texts" she says sadly. You nod as you exhale through your nose, the weed already calming your brain and letting your mask fall slightly.

"I know. I'm busy" you confirm taking another drag of the joint, she has her hands in her hoodie pockets, sleeves slightly pulled up, her tattoo peeking from underneath the black fabric.

The silence hangs between you for a little while.

Ellie tries to let the silence hang longer, but it's too much. She wants to tell you, bloody hell she NEEDS to tell you. "Look, I'm sorry -" she starts but you quickly interrupt " I'm tired, Ellie."

"Oh… I just… what happened the other night, I'm sorry, I really am-"

"Sorry?? Ellie…" you sigh, tears already making their way to your eyes but you blink them away quickly as you finally turn to face her directly, she looks rough. Her left eye bruised, her mouth still has that massive cut that stretches onto her cheek. Her bruised knuckles bring the joint to her lips, one of her nails is still broken in half.

"It was nothing okay? I was safe, it was just a deal-"

"I don't care why it happened Ellie. We know why it happened. How safe could you have been when you look like that. When you showed up at my work like that. You could barely talk! For fucks sake you could barely stand!"

Ellie let's your words hang between the two of you, your teary eyes peering deeply into her own.

"I don't want you to get hurt anymore…" your voice breaks " and unless you're willing to stop dealing drugs and getting yourself into gang fights, I can't do this."

"That's not fair." Ellie says anger rising, enveloping her broken voice like a blanket "You know I have to do this, I have no choice!" She throws the half smoked joint onto the grass and stomps it with her foot. You really don't want to cry, but tears spill down your cheeks.

"You know Abby is not going to let me off that easy-"

"Ellie!" Someone waves their arm from the other side of the lawn and beckons her to go to them. Ellie waves and looks at you one last time.

"This conversation isn't over" she says. She wants to hold your hand, she wants to explain that she was beaten up because she tried to stop. She tried telling them she was done. But she has debt, and debt with Abby needs to be paid off. She's ashamed she had to borrow money from her in the first place. But when Joel died, and his debts amounted onto her, Ellie had no choice.

"You know what, I think it is" you storm off in the opposite direction, pushing yourself through the crowd of people until Ellie couldn't see you anymore, her heart hurt more than the bruises and cuts on her body.

____

I hope this made sense haha, I did not proof read it. Hope you have enjoy, send me a message and I'll write more drug dealer Ellie!

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