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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

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Together we fill gaps

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Angst, Drinking

AN: You've all been treating me so much with your feedback with this series and I'm so happy to get another part out for you guys! Hope you enjoy 💕 Also, as it's come up a couple times, if you read this series and want to make something inspired by it then PLEASE go ahead, I'll be excited to see what you guys make!

Part 4 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

You waited outside the dark double doors of the meeting room like a sinner before confession, hands wringing at your sides and eyes full and wide, ready to plead for mercy. You’d even managed to bite your tongue a couple times because you were trying so hard not to look like you’d done something wrong; mind practically melting with the cold hard fact that you had.

Even after being told to stay away from König in the heat of an ongoing operation, after being told exactly who he is on numerous occasions in fact, you’d still gone against their word and your better judgement. You’d kissed him.

You felt like a walking TV disaster, the kind of person in the movie that you watch and you yell ‘why the hell would you do that?’ to the screen while they throw their lives away on bad decisions. And now you were being called into some meeting that Price had arranged - without telling you its purpose - you could almost hear the Jaws theme flaring behind your ears. It made your mouth dry up.

You were your own worst enemy, trapped in your mind as the rickety scaffolding collapsed around you. You’d clawed onto thoughts of how the meeting was going to go while losing yourself to the memory of König’s possessive grip around your waist and the phantom feeling of tingles swelling on your lips.

You were going to end up buried in the fallout and there’d be no one to blame but yourself.

“You’re early,” Price rumbled behind you.

You snapped your head around to the sound of his voice and pursed your lips, already feeling a cold flash race down your spine. You’d been more excited to rush into firefights than you were to go into that meeting, and that went double when you noticed Ghost following behind the Captain.

“Figured it’d help,” you said breathlessly, hoping he’d recognise your good intentions.

Price grunted and Ghost said nothing. They brushed past you and walked into the depths of the meeting room, turning on the light as if they were about to start an investigator routine. You doubted either of them would play the good cop, that much was obvious. However you did wonder what they knew, what they’d found out since you’d come back from the mission.

Did either of them know about the kiss?

You sighed and walked forward, feeling impossibly heavy and gut wrenchingly anxious. Every step was another closer to your telling off - something you rarely had to face up to. And before too long you were standing over a seat they’d pulled out for you and begrudgingly lowered yourself into it, facing the steely eyed men situated across from you.

It didn’t help that the chair felt like a torture device. Hard pieces of ripped leather dug into your skin from the back and the lumpy cushion had you shifting in place, making you look even guiltier. Just great, as if you needed to look any worse in front of them.

“So,” Price began, leaning forward over his chair, “Ghost filled me in on the op yesterday - in private.”

He’d neglected to take his seat, opting instead to lean over it like he might lunge at you at any given time. His eyes were harsh, swirling with the warning of an oncoming storm.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat - trying not to think about the way it felt like ingesting a bowling ball. It sounded almost as loud, the room was deadly silent save for the stuttering clock on the wall and the sound of your collective breathing. You’d sat down in a horror set of your own creation.

“I’m sure you know why that was,” Ghost said, staring across at you with an almost piteous look.

His eyes were stony behind his skull mask, shadowed and layered thickly with a seriousness you’d never known before, not even during your work with him. He wasn’t ready to pounce on you like Price, but he certainly wasn’t going to save you from him either.

“Because I went against your orders,” you murmured.

“Speak up,” Price growled, going as far as to use your real name.

Well that wasn’t good.

“I went against your orders,” you said again, voice clear and unwavering.

Even despite the looney tunes levels of fear you felt, you knew not to disobey the Captain when he shouted at you like that. You spoke like you were on stage, addressing the nation.

“You did,” Ghost confirmed, straightening up. “Can you tell us what your orders were?”

You bit your lip, wrangling it between your teeth like tasting blood might dose you up in some way. The skin felt fit to burst like a honeydew, already worn from the night before’s activities. Perhaps the physical pain would distract you from the way Price and Ghost were looking at you as if they were ready to string you up like a war criminal, distract you from thinking about König even while they did so.

“My orders were to wait downstairs with Gaz and Soap and keep watch for any stragglers,” you finally said, recalling the exact words he’d barked at you before you were tossed downstairs to the corpse pile.

“And what did you do?”

“I…I lost it when I realised what was going on upstairs and I- I disobeyed the order and tried to go into the room we’d located the hostage.”

“And why was that?” Price asked this time, his eyes boring into yours.

“I- I don’t know,” you faltered, digging your nails hard into your palms.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He sneered.

“I- I-...Captain, I don’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t like what we were doing, what we were enabling, and I acted before I thought. I-”

“Acted before you thought,” Price interrupted, coming around from his chair and advancing toward you. “You act before you think again and next time it’s not Ghost reprimanding you, next time you could end up with a bullet in the head, or who knows? Maybe you walk out onto a landmine because you wanted to skip off and smell the fucking roses!”

You breathed in and backed up in your chair, leather carving into your back as you did so, heartbeat wrenching upwards into an absurd chorus. You could barely focus on Price as he walked toward you and snarled like a wounded animal, ready to take you down himself before let any stray bullet pierce you.

“It won’t happen again, Captain,” you quavered, trying to hold onto what little of your strength you could. “It was stupid and reckless. It’s not the kind of person I am, and I- I let myself down. I don’t ever want to do that again.”

“You’re damn right you let yourself down,” Price muttered. “Let yourself down all in the name of some crush you have as well, because don’t think that i don’t know exactly why you wanted into that room - exactly who you were trying to get at! I trusted that after our little talk you’d be able to keep a safe distance from König and keep things professional, but clearly I overestimated you…So, because of your actions, and in the interest of getting the 141 back alive and safe in future without worrying about what you might unthinkingly do, you’re not to speak to him again, do I make myself clear?”

Every fibre in your being wanted to scream and lash out. You wanted to stand up and face Price and tell him he couldn’t order you to do that, that König wasn’t on the team so he couldn’t stop you from seeing him. Though, you knew if you did it was a one way ticket to getting booted back home and god knows if it would be a permanent trip or just a stint to sort you out.

You stamped out the thought of disagreeing immediately, and you nodded, feeling as if your head were on an automated hinge. Self preservation had kicked in at last and for a few minutes your head was clear from hazy starry thoughts and focused solely on your career, on the hard work you’d done to achieve your position. You couldn’t throw it all away.

“Yes, Captain. You’re clear.”

You didn’t stutter or stumble, you looked him in the eye and hardened your jaw. A small smile seemed to cross his lips at last. It didn’t remain there for long, but he looked less like he was ready to strangle you till you were cold and blue, and that at the very least was something.

“Good,” he said simply, drawing back from your chair and heading toward the heavy doorway. “Don’t ever disappoint me like this again.”

He disappeared from the room, trailing out like the smoke cloud that usually lingered with him, and left you without another word. You’d mistakenly thought you were alone for a second, feeling the tension drain out from the door and released a breath, planting your face into your palms.

You weren’t alone though, Ghost was still there, perched over the chair that he dwarfed like a statue. It was normally a comical sight, but you weren’t ready to see the funny side of anything at that point. You weren’t ready to see much at all as you silently hoped the darkness would swallow you, remaining hunched into your hands.

“He was really worried when I told him,” Ghost finally said, huffing a little as he thought back, “He couldn’t believe you of all people went against an order - especially on an operation like this, when we had to keep ourselves clean. He didn’t like the thought of you on another mission with könig and getting yourself hurt chasing after the cunt either.”

You stiffened when you heard him speak and slowly lowered your hands, chancing a look up at him. He didn’t look nearly as menacing as Price had, he looked contemplative. His eyes glanced up at the ceiling and his thick arms were wrapped around each other, he leaned back in his chair a little as he continued to think deeply.

“I got that,” you snorted, biting your lip. “Is it time for you to give me a bollocking now too?”

He chuckled and shook his head. It was a welcome sound, rough and rich like velvet.

“I told you off already, remember? Besides, I don’t think I could top that.”

“Then what are you still doing hanging round? You making sure I don’t run to witness protection?”

Ghost shook his head again and stood up, sighing as he walked toward you. He stopped just short of your chair and raised his hand, letting it awkwardly hang in the air a second.

“I just wanted to make sure you were going to be ok,” he said, resting his big mitt on your shoulder. “And…I wanted you to know that we’re off to the pub later. The guys were asking after you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Price isn’t going, Sneaky. You’ll only be stuck with us,” he assured.

“And if I say I want to sit and feel sorry for myself for a little while?”

“I’d say that you’re not locking yourself up in your room like a little princess, sweetheart. You can either come with us or I can find something for you to do around the base. Your choice,” he said, the glint of a smile appearing in his eyes.

He wasn’t giving you much of a choice at all.

-💀-

“Sneaky! Over here.”

You cast your eyes over the crowded pub, straining to hear over the low din of everyone's voices, and looked for the source of the callout, finally finding Soaps waving arms amongst the masses. It was a busy night, but still they’d managed to find a free booth somewhere off in the corner. You had no doubt there’d be a drink there waiting there for you too.

Given the pub was one of the few closest to the base, it was pleasant enough to pass your time in. It was a little dim, the faint yellow lights not enough to combat the low ceilings and lack of windows, but it was cosy. The old wooden bar top and well worn blue floors felt homey in that familiar sort of way and you liked that it always smelt like hops and aged varnish. It was a proper old man pub, but nevertheless served as a tradition.

“Thought you were going to bail on us,” Ghost said, watching as you finally drew up to the table.

“And miss out on all the action?” You laughed dryly, tilting your head at the three men who sat comfortably against the sagging cushioned seats. “Never.”

“You tryin to say we’re no fun?” Soap asked, clutching his chest in mock alarm.

“Mm, depends if that pint’s for me or not.”

“It was, but if you’re gonna be cheeky then-“

Soap made a play to grab the tall bubbling glass next to him, but you beat him to it. You were tipping your head up and gulping it down before he could register that you’d stolen it from his reach.

“Fuckin hell, slow down,” Gaz laughed.

You lowered your glass to Gaz’s protest and watched as the golden liquid sloshed and levelled to around halfway. You hadn’t realised how much you’d needed that. With an eyebrow raise and a swipe of your tongue over your lips, you finally took your seat next to Soap. The men watched you and you watched them in some kind of cowboy style standoff.

“I take it everyone knows about my verbal beat down then?”

Soap and Gaz looked away, but Ghost's eyes remained trained on you. They were completely unashamed, unbothered that you knew he’d been gossiping again.

“Is anything sacred round here,” you muttered, taking only a bitter sip of your beer this time.

“They were on the mission too, not like it’s news to em’,” Ghost sniffed.

“Price was chain smokin’ a belter today too, it was obvious something happened,” Soap muttered from behind his glass. “Garrick asked about it but he wouldn’t say-“

Gaz shoved at him, knocking his teeth against his glass.

“Oi!”

“Don’t drag me into it!” Gaz groused.

“Well…regardless, Price wouldn’t tell us what was up, but Ghost said he’d spoken to you about what happened and that was why he had a face like a slapped arse.”

You snorted and shook your head. Soap was ever the eloquent storyteller.

“And he didn’t tell you anything else?” You asked, surprised he hadn’t mentioned the ultimatum.

“Almost like I’m a professional or something,” Ghost chuckled, leaving back in his corner.

You raised your eyebrows and took a breath to ease your relief. In fairness to him, he loved to rile you up and tease you, but when it came to work he genuinely was strict about these things. Things like private meetings where you were told you couldn’t continue to pursue a certain masked Austrian. Surprisingly enough.

However, with that thought, you were sent spiralling back to the dilemma that had been torturing you all day. Thinking about König made your heart sink with heaviness. It dropped like an anchor. That kiss from the night before had been the last time you’d seen him, the last time you’d be able to speak to him. You had so many things you’d wanted to talk through and clear up. Now - you had to ignore him at the cost of your job and you felt even worse about all that hadn’t been said. It made you feel like you’d used him, you worried he’d see it that way too.

“What happened then?” Gaz asked, noticing you disappear into yourself.

You shook yourself out of your stupor, poorly trying to cover it up.

“What?” You asked innocently.

“At the meeting?” He prodded. “What’d Price say?”

“Almost sounds like you’re excited,” you bit out, deflecting as much as possible. “Someone’s enjoying being the sole favourite again, hmm?”

“Don’t be a dick, Sneak. Remember that time I fumbled the breach on that door in France - I almost blew us all to hell, you remember how bad that was? Price was fucking livid with me, and even then he was able to let that go eventually. And then after it happened, after he almost killed me for it, you told me to talk about it all so I wouldn’t have it trapped in my head, so just tell us. What’d he say?”

A deep shuddering breath left your lungs like a gale. Suddenly the pint in your hand was much more interesting than you’d ever found a drink. The way the liquid sloshed and foamed white, the bubbles fizzing in your ears like static, it drew your eye for a few moments until you risked a glance up to Ghost, watching his eyes roam your face. He was interested to see if you’d keep deflecting or come out with it, expression stony.

“He said I couldn’t talk to König again, and I’m assuming you won’t see me round base for much longer if I decide to go against him.” You sighed.

Soap and Gaz raised their eyebrows, but they didn’t look too shocked. However, they did risk a look at each other and something seemed to ring through their expressions. A little bright bulb of knowledge, wordless but obvious. What was it they were thinking about, what had happened?

“Spill,” you growled.

Ghost looked equally as intrigued, sitting up from his slump in the corner. That was interesting too. Soap knew something that Ghost didn’t - for once.

“Well me n’ Gaz were comin’ out the gym together and we were gonna go to the kitchen quickly before the showers and eh…the Captian was in there having a word with the big guy.”

“A word? What do you mean?” You asked, nails digging into the sticky wood of the table.

“Couldn’t hear, but it was obvious they weren’t agreeing,” Gaz shrugged. “König looked like he was going to strangle Price.”

“Price just stood there as well, shoulders back, relaxed as anything. König was all over the place, shouting in German and smashing his fist on the counter before he stormed out. We left before he reached us - as you can imagine,” Soap laughed nervously, clearly still affected by the sight.

Shouting in German? It wasn’t like him to slip into his native language when he was around the base. You’d heard him start to speak it once or twice when he got the occasional phone call from his family, but he rarely strayed from English. Only when he was mumbling to himself or surprised or annoyed about something would you hear the odd word or curse outside of speaking on the phone, but he didn’t let those out often. He must’ve been in a horrible mood to be shouting like that at the Captain.

“Do you know what he said?” You asked curiously.

“How the fuck should we know,” Soap chuckled. “He was doing that thing where his voice goes all loopy and high pitched. Sounded like a cartoon character, ‘eek meek deek’ somethin’ somethin’ - he was goin’ bananas.”

“Ich mach dich kalt?” You tried, briefly recognising the sounds of the words from a story König had told once - about an older boy chasing after him with a swiss army knife.

“Yeah sounded just like that actually! What’s it mean?” Gaz said.

“I’ll make you cold - I’ll kill you, basically,” you said, biting your lip. “Sounds like he was really fucking angry with Price.”

-💀-

Despite not having wanted to go out that night, you’d had a nice time. After you’d stopped talking about the whole Price debacle, the conversation revolved more around usual topics and for a little while it felt like everything was ok again.

König lingered ever present in the back of your mind, but the boys provided a good distraction and you were glad that Ghost forced you out of your cave of isolation. He’d known exactly what you needed, as little as you’d like to admit it.

You’d ended the night on six pints and walked back to base merry, singing along to a nonsense song that Soap was singing, grinning ear to ear and holding onto him like your life depended on it. Your hand was wrapped tightly around his back and he was doing the same to you, forcing you along the street in a wild toppling sway that made your head spin. The stars looking like they were dancing and the trees swayed too and fro below them, like nature's flash mob in your blurry field of vision.

The song carried through the night like a fox call, but neither Gaz nor Ghost could stop you both from singing it. No matter how many times Ghost threatened discipline or Gaz told you there were people sleeping, nothing broke through your happy daze. Life was good, it was you and the 141; it was downing dry crappy beer in your favourite pub and telling stories about the times you all fucked up until you were all laughing along.

All until you passed by your usual sitting spot and noticed König posted up there, watching you walk along like a sentry. Your heart stopped and you stopped walking with it, sending Soap almost clattering to the ground. He was cursing you out and stumbling to his feet, in complete ignorance of the staring contest you held with your former…whatever he was to you.

König’s back was stiff, body upright and his eyes unblinking at you, glinting in the dark like precious diamonds - hard, sharp edged and dangerous.

Ghost and Gaz froze, they’d been walking up ahead, and turned back when they realised you and Soap were missing, and as soon as Ghost spotted König you could swear you heard him growl. He marched over, boots thudding like gun blasts, and yanked on your arm, manhandling both you and Soap away. You’d tried to look behind you, tried to silently tell König sorry with your gaze, but even that was stopped as Ghost shoved you forward and barked at you to keep moving.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got the biggest hands, LT?” Soap hiccuped, simpering up at Ghost like an idiot.

“Big enough to strangle both of you if you don’t keep moving,” he’d muttered, eyes trained on you.

“Mm, some people really like big hands. My ex told me once…” Soap babbled, sent mad with the twelve pints he’d gotten through. “The bigger the hands, the bigger the-“

“That’s quite enough Sergeant!” Ghost interrupted, shoving Soap forward this time. “Both of you get inside and go to your rooms before I play conkers with your heads!”

-💀-

It wasn’t until a few days later that you had another run in with König. You were about to go into the kitchen when you noticed him standing by the counter, in his full hood, making a cup of coffee. To make matters worse, Price was about to walk in at the same time. He’d caught you lingering in the limbo of the kitchen and hallway, your hand gripping the doorway like the room might start shaking.

Price had smiled at you, finally able to look at you with something other than disappointment, and dropped his expression as soon as he noticed why you’d stopped. It wasn’t for his benefit, he must’ve realised, it was indecision about entering a room with König. He paused too, both of you stuck watching the unwilling Austrian zoo exhibition. It was only when Price walked forward and busied himself with looking in the fridge that you assumed you must be allowed in there too.

It all felt so ridiculous. The reality of the situation finally kicked in and you had to bite your tongue just to stop yourself from laughing. You were reduced to hiding in doorways and ducking round corners all to avoid a boy that you were forbidden from talking to. Next thing you knew you’d be telling Price you’d done your homework while you figured out a way to sneak out of your window.

You shook your head, trying not to think about it all and stared down at your shoes the minute König finally looked up at you. He grunted something too low for you to hear and moved aside, allowing you space to make your tea.

In turn, you sighed and took the handle of the kettle in your hand, testing the weight of it to see how much water was left and put it down satisfied that you could make your tea and leave. It was heavy, almost full, the slosh of water against metal was one of the few sounds that pervaded the tense atmosphere of the room.

You could hear your heartbeat inside your ears, it thudded dully like a warning. You opened the cupboard, hoping to escape the sound as soon as you could, drown it out with a movie and maybe a workout afterward. Though you stopped in confusion when you noticed your tea wasn’t there.

You frowned for a second until you remembered that Ghost had been fucking with you and Soap ever since that night at the pub. He took to petty revenge instead of anything official, and it was that that had you chancing a look on top of the cupboards, remembering when he’d done this before. Sure enough, you’d only just glimpsed a corner of the berry red packaging, but that was enough to tell you it had been put up out of your reach. Fuck sake.

“Fucking Ghost,” you muttered, hands on your hips like an annoyed teacher.

You refused to drink regular tea. It would be giving in to Ghost, and you were never one to do that unless under order and actively working (even then, you’d apparently shown yourself and everyone else you could rebel against him if the motivation was there).

You raked your hand down your face and sighed, marching over to the table so that you could retrieve a chair. Though, before you could even pull one out from the table König had noticed your situation and reached up wordlessly, retrieving the box of tea and setting it on the counter. He didn’t say anything after either, but he gave you a butter soft look as if to say I still care.

It broke your heart - even despite the things you knew about him that made you so angry - you missed him like hell.

You wanted to hug him and tell him just how much you’d missed him. You wanted to tell him how many times something had happened over the days that made your heart wrench because you wouldn't be able to chat to him about it. You missed his dry comments and evil little laugh, you missed when he’d get overly polite because he’d get flustered talking to you, and most of all you missed having that big muscled body pressed against you in some form another; beside you, up against you, an arm around you, a thigh brushing against yours. His heat was missing, your body had never been so cold.

“You hanging around long, König?” Price asked, voice lilting dangerously.

You gulped, your grip on the chair tightening. You watched as König clenched his fists and regarded the Captain, who was glaring daggers at him. Neither man looked ready to back down, but neither made a move forward. You were glad for it, you didn’t want them to fight in front of you. You didn't like the idea of König shouting.

“I figured I’d sit for a bit,” König finally said, leaning his heavy frame against the counter, “is that alright, Captain?”

“As long as you don’t mess with my team, you can do anything you like, König.”

“Polite of you to allow that,” König replied, distaste dripping from his tone.

“I’m a reasonable man.”

König sniffed at that, but he didn’t come out with a rebuttal. Instead he picked up his coffee and left, not in the mood to continue bickering back and forth with Price. You doubted he could last much longer either, his body looked fit to burst by the time he’d gone, ready to tear forward and claim Price’s head for his wall.

“Fucking KorTac,” Price muttered, slamming the fridge and walking out with a brown can.

-💀-

A few days later, after a couple more awkward encounters filled with longing stares and unspoken words, you’d been lying on your bed when first contact came.

You squealed like a school kid. You hadn't expected something to go flying across your floor and to the foot of your bed. At first you’d thought it was some kind of mouse until you calmed down and realised it was just a bit of paper that had gone skittering across the wood.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself.

You hesitantly picked up the note and almost dropped it like a hot potato when you saw the neat looping scrawl on the page. It didn’t look like any handwriting you recognised from your team and instinctually you knew exactly who had written it. Apparently he wasn’t as strong willed as you.

Meet me at The Broken Plough at 8.30, I know the 141 don’t go there.

When you read it finally, you found yourself falling back onto your bed, sending the springs groaning underneath you. The Broken Plough was further out than your usual pub, the one that was usually too full of people to get a seat at. It was charming and had a lot more of a modern touch to it, so it was no wonder more people flocked there, and you knew for a fact that König was going to use that to his advantage. More people meant less prying eyes, it meant crowds that could hide even a massive almost seven foot tall Austrian man.

“I’m not going,” you said out loud to yourself, perhaps as a command, perhaps as a promise. “I could lose my job.”

Nevertheless, whatever you tried to do by manifesting out loud didn’t work - you ended up worming your way out of the base just before eight o’clock. You walked through the cold night, steps crunching on the frosty grass and found yourself at The Broken Plough just before the agreed time, cursing yourself as you filtered through the crowd and toward the bar, blessedly finding a free chair.

If you were going to face König after all those days of not speaking, then you needed a drink or two first.

The vodka shot you ordered went down hard and bitter on your throat, however it paved the way for your double rum and coke to go down nice and smoothly. If you were going to put your position at risk, then you’d be damned if you were going to do it sober. It was a necessity really, even through the cold your body had been running hot with worry, and then as you sat at the bar you could practically feel your eyes vibrating as you looked down at the dark liquid in the wide glass, swirling it around and distracting yourself from the chatter of all the people around you.

“You came.”

You froze, registering the voice coming from your right side. It sounded soft, though you still heard it, completely undeniably coming from the man you’d been forbidden to talk to. His shadow cast itself across the bar and darkened your drink from treacle to tar. It was a shock at first, knowing you could speak to him in safety, and then it was a spark, a kick of lightning as if you’d been put under a defibrillator. You were doing something bad - but you’d don’t care.

You could talk to him again, it was safe.

Not that you could even find the words to say when you came to the realisation. You hadn’t even looked at him yet. You glanced up from your glass and gasped when you came face to face with him, eyes blowing up like supernovas.

He wasn’t wearing his hood, or his neck warmer, or even the usual uniform you came to expect him to be in. He was wearing roughed up jeans and a black t-shirt that could barely contain his upper arms, the fabric was straining around his muscles and looked fit to burst. Inexplicably your mouth started to fill, and you had to choke down a swallow just to greet him.

“König!” you squeaked, still running your eyes up and down his frame.

You were in disbelief. This was what König looked like? He might as well have appeared naked, you wouldn’t have reacted much differently. You caught sight of every detail you could, cataloguing the scars and bruises that ran along his arms like tiger stripes and leopard spots, gouges and slashes scattered carelessly, disrupting the blanket of fine blonde hair that ran across them. His chest was wide even without all the gear and bags normally strapped across it, his legs still thick without the baggy trousers he normally wore.

When you finally looked up at his face you caught him staring back at you with an expression crossed half with amusement and half with worry. You supposed he must’ve been anxious about how you’d react, and if you were going to show up at all - and now that you’d come and not said anything beyond his name. Did he think you were going to think better of your decision?

Certainly not now you’ve seen him looking like that, you thought absentmindedly. He’d even brushed his hair, it sat neatly on top of his head, running all in the same direction. He’d put effort in, he wanted to look good.

“Are you alright?” he asked finally, breathless.

“Yeah, just- I just can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now and you look…like that.”

“Like what?” he replied, frowning and looking down at himself as if he’d done something wrong, as if he’d come out with two different shoes or something.

“Like um- like…” you bit your tongue and looked away from him, taking a sizable drink from your glass. “Good.”

“You think I look good?” he grinned.

König’s face broke out into a full smile, his soft lips and his big eyes making you dizzy. You ached to brush your hand against his jaw and pull him toward you, you wanted to kiss him again. Though you didn’t think you’d get to remain in your refuge for long if you wound up on top of him (or below, you didn’t mind) in public.

“Yes, you look good,” you said weakly, finishing the rum and coke down to the last sticky sweet drop.

“I figured it’d help if I was less recognisable,” he shrugged, “but if it works for you, then that’s good too.”

“I think people might still have their doubts about the six foot seven Austrian man,” you laughed.

“What if I lean?” he said conspirtorialy, lowering himself against the bar a little.

“Oh, much less conspicuous now,” you snorted.

You both chuckled at that, and he straightened up again with a shake of his head. Clearly you’d both missed each other’s company more than you’d realised, and with that realisation you were fighting to keep back a whine and your stomach was filling with butterflies. You were really speaking with König again. He was really there, in the incredibly handsome flesh.

“I missed you,” you sighed, propping your head against the arm you had leaning on the bar top.

“I missed you too,” he said quietly. “You have no idea how many times I had to hold myself back from talking to you. It’s been torture.”

“Well I guess I have to thank you for that. I’m only just back in Price’s good books,” you said bitterly.

“Price,” he grunted. “I still can’t believe it - what happened. He came up to me and told me about your meeting with him, you know, and he said if he caught me talking to you he’d get me kicked off the base for ‘unprofessional’ behaviour. As if that weren’t enough, when I told him to go ahead, he said he’d send you away to another team if you gave in.”

Your mind spun knowing that Price really was serious. If by some miracle Price chanced walking into the pub he swore that he hated, your role in the 141 was going to be dissolved in acid and shut into a barrel.

“The man knows how to make a threat, I’ll give him that,” you remarked.

“It’s not right!”

You sighed and ran your hand along König’s arm, feeling the hair tickle at your fingertips. He was a spring waiting to release, his muscles corded like he was ready to be unleashed onto the field. They only got tighter as you continued your ministrations, his face was turning unreadable, his breaths labouring in his chest.

How tightly wound was he? You were just stroking his arm.

“König, I’m not a fan of the decision either, but…I understand why he asked it of us.”

“What?” he growled, standing away from your reach.

“I know that what happened wasn’t exactly a live or die situation, but realistically it could’ve been. There could’ve been men we didn’t know about and they could’ve gotten to Soap and Gaz while I was off distracting Ghost. It could’ve been bad. It could-”

“Any situation could turn into anything, it doesn’t mean you should ban people from speaking to each other like you’re some kind of fucking teacher or something, he shouldn’t have that power.”

“He’s the Captain, he has that power for a reason, he has to do what’s best for his team,” you sighed. “Even when what’s best is really shitty.”

König looked like he could go on, but he saw the way that you were staring back at him and dropped it, looking utterly defeated. He clenched his jaw and looked around the bar, catching the faces of the people that milled around and seemed to be deep in thought. His brows had a little knot in the middle, just a little something you picked up, he was concentrating hard.

“If you agree with his decision then why did you come and meet me?” he asked, finally talking again.

“Because, I care about you. I couldn’t just never speak to you again - after everything y’know?”

He bit his lip.

“You still care about me even after all those things you said?”

It was your turn to go silent. You suppose you’d been expecting it to come up, but then again you were praying that it wouldn’t. Trying to explain the multitude of crossed wires and screaming signals in your mind was too difficult. You still didn’t like what went down, or the kind of work he did, but given more time to reflect, you were able to distance yourself from the situation and appreciate what he’d said that night before you'd kissed him. The person on the field and the person in front of you were separate although intertwined, they were day and night.

Inexplicably you wanted to stick around for the daytime, despite the darkness he was capable of.

“I don’t know where I fall on it all, but… I know that I missed you after not getting to speak to you for a week. I know that I thought about that kiss we had and I felt my lips go tingly every fucking time i did, and now that I say it out loud its really cringy, but you know what? It’s what happened. I think about you all the time, whenever I watch dumb videos and see someone out on a hike somewhere or reviewing some completely over portioned food place I think of you. I think about you and your pictures you show me, and the stories you’ve told me and I drive myself insane thinking about dates we could go on and things I wanna tell you about myself and I just…I want you. I want you in spite of it all. I never want to leave the 141, unless I absolutely have to, but I don’t want this to be the last time we ever speak either.”

König listened to you intently, his face grew soft and he drifted ever closer to you with each word that you said. His hands hovered across the bar and over onto you, warming your flesh as they grasped your thighs and they drew up to your shoulders.

As soon as you’d finished speaking he was kissing you again, and you were losing yourself to him, breathing him in, Soap and citrus and spice. You wove your hands through his hair and felt the slicked back strands separating through your fingers like grass in the summer. You held him close and kissed him deep, the burn of spirits that still coated your tongue dying as he replaced them with his own sweet taste.

When you separated, you were both breathing heavily, marathon level gasps were leaving your lungs, but you didn’t think much about it. You could feel how blown out your pupils were, you were sure they looked just like his. You smirked at him, and he smiled back, his eyes crinkling. There was still a little paint left behind in the creases.

“I don’t think that should be our last kiss,” König murmured.

“I don’t think so either…”

“Then what do we do?” He sighed.

You paused for a moment, feeling horrified at the thought of what you were about to say. Although, even with your mind racing and your heart thundering, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“You’re free some weekends right?”

Next Part Here

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

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h0rnyauth0r · 9 months

Text

being stuck in a power outage with ghost, who you don’t get along with <3

i'm sorry to take months between content :( i hope everyone's doing well! i missed writing so much!

word count: 2.8k

warnings: reaader w/ vagina, use of good girl, cumming inside, unprotected sex, and other smut-typical moments

you can admit when you’re wrong to basically anybody, really. like right now, you know it’s a bad idea to sneak off during a briefing about the mission you’re going to be going on, but listening to ghost for any longer will have you ripping your hair out and screaming.

you hate that man with a passion, with the utmost sincerity of your being. he pushes you more than the others, he constantly ridicules your movements, and he always compares you to everyone else. just the other day you were ordered to run two extra miles for ‘misbehaving’ by talking with soap about holiday plans.

you’d say he has plans to get you to the point of dropping 141 and moving on, but you know that won’t happen. you’ve grown to love the team, even if he may ruin things. his targeting of you hasn’t reached a point where it’s putting you or others into danger, so as far as you’re concerned you’ll be staying.

it’s a rainy day today, clouds shifting across the sky slowly with a dark and gloomy grey making the world around you seem so sad. you love the rain. the distant thunder cracking down as it begins approaching the base. you’re not sure if the storm might interrupt the plans for later, seeing as it may impact flying out.

you shrug the thought off as you enter one of the side rooms, often used for private meetings and for you, reading. the doors here often use a pin code or a keycard to get into for security reasons, which makes things easier despite the dependence on technology.

you want to read a new book that gaz gifted you, saying that he highly recommended it to you after reading it himself. you never thought he’d be into romance novels, but here you are reading a book thats cover displays a withering rose and mentions a scandalous plotline between a ceo of a company and his newest intern.

you take a seat on one of the many chairs and finally open the cover, reading the first few notes and getting started on the first chapter. the writing is decent, and you find yourself enjoying this tacky plotline more than you anticipated.

time passes, and it’s probably been around ten minutes before you hear the sound of the door unlocking followed by heavy footsteps. you know you’ve just fucked yourself over when you hear a deep sigh. it’s ghost.

“figured you’d be here. why did you skip my briefing? it’s important information.” his voice is stern, angry.

you roll your eyes at his reaction and tone. “i can easily just get the info from price, he has the folders. besides, i already know what we’re doing and i’m already packed for leaving.”

the footsteps get closer and his arms reach around your front, snatching the book from your hands and slamming it shut. “if you had actually come to the meeting like any sensible person, you’d know our mission is postponed due to the storms.” he snaps, watching the way you angrily turn around and face him.

you glare at him, “just because it’s been canceled doesn’t mean you can interrupt my reading, lieutenant.”

now he’s rolling his eyes at you, arms crossing with your book still in his hand. “i don’t give a shit about your reading. you can’t disregard the rules here and think you’ll just get away with things because you’re close with price. at this point, i’m not letting you go on the mission. you can stay here since you like it so much.” his voice sounds like a father scolding his child, and you grow angry at the mention of not being allowed to go on the mission anymore.

“you know i can just talk to price and get this settled myself, simon. i will go where i want. now get out and leave me alone if you’re done treating me like a child.”

he slams the book down onto the table in the room and clenches his fists, turning to the door and getting a keycard out to unlock it.

that’s when the whooshing sound loudly interrupts any movements, lights going out and power ultimately failing. you almost immediately groan out, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. the only bit of light is from the crease of the door, and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of ghost.

“uh, the gen should kick on right?” your voice breaks the silence, feeling awkward about even speaking to the man right now.

“it would’ve already. must not have petrol left.” he says, and you can barely make out him taking a seat in one of the chairs in the room.

it’s nearly impossible to see, and the odds of this happening were so slim that you’re now regretting going into this room in the first place. you should’ve gone back to your bunk, but now you’re trapped here with the lieutenant and you don’t know when things will be back.

a loud pounding on the door startles you, and you hear soap’s voice scream at the door. “gaz is getting some petrol now! we were out of supply, the shipment was running late!” he screams, and you wince at how loud he’s being.

“thanks, soap! hopefully he’s back soon.” you say loudly, sinking onto the floor and sitting with your back against the door.

“should be a half hour.” ghost grumbles, and you nod at his words before flushing when you realize he can’t see you nod.

for a few minutes, neither of you say anything. you want to say something, maybe even apologize for your behavior. you know it was wrong of you to skip out on the briefing, and he’s never going to be nice to you if you continue acting out.

“hey, i’m sorry.” you say quietly.

“huh?”

“i’m sorry. for missing the briefing. it was a bad idea. i know it’s not a good look to skip out on those, so i just wanted to apologize. just because we don’t get along doesn’t mean i can fuck with our team’s organization.”

you hear him breathe in deeply, probably contemplating the words to say in the moment. you feel a little nervous with his silence, almost finding yourself feeling worried about him.

he speaks up though, “i understand why you did it. i’m hard on you, more than the others. it’s because you’re stronger and i know you can handle yourself.”

his words make you feel happy, and you actually find yourself smiling because of something he said for the first time ever. you never would’ve thought that this man sees your strength and resilience.

“thank you. can i ask you something?”

“shoot.”

“why do you punish me for talking with soap, or any others for that matter, but not them too?”

he doesn’t reply, and you don’t exactly expect him to. the quiet is mildly overwhelming and has you worried that the small step forward with the older man may have already regressed.

you hear him stand up, though, and take a seat beside you in front of the electric door. the proximity makes you anxious, but his voice is what makes it less intense.

“admittedly, i don’t like seeing others talk with you like that.” his words hold weight in your head, your neck cranking downwards to process. you’re stuck taking in what he said, contemplating what exactly it means.

jealousy? you want it to be true, in the most selfish way. maybe he sees others as a obstacle to you. but you’re certain it’s actually because they may be distracting you from your potential.

“do you think they’re distracting me or something? because they aren’t.”

he lets out a puff of air, which you could assume is the closest you’ll get to hearing his laugh. curiosity, and more importantly, embarrassment, have you growing flustered with that reaction.

“what?” you ask.

he sighs. “i know they’re not distracting you, love.”

your face grows hot, a state of deep embarrassment combining with confusion. his hand reaches out and touches your arm, and you look in his direction with anticipation at what he’s up to.

“i was jealous, since i wanted you to talk to me instead.”

you unintentionally gulp, swallowing harshly and nodding even though you’re in the dark with him. his hand slowly moves up your arm and ends up caressing your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as you suck in a breath.

“w-why?” you ask.

“can’t you tell why? i thought you were observant.” his voice is closer, right in your ear and you find yourself shivering. a pool of desire is bubbling up in your abdomen, thighs instinctively rubbing together for any tension.

you never would’ve thought that ghost had any interest in you with the way he’s treated you, but you can very much tell now. his very touch is sending sparks through your body and you can’t help but hope he’s willing to fuck you into these cold floors right now.

“i-”

“shh.” he puts his hand over your mouth and your eyes roll back pathetically. if he can have such an impact on you with just words, you can only imagine how good he would be in other areas.

your teeth dig harshly into your bottom lip when his other hand begins reaching for your thigh, kneading into the skin as it moves up and closer to your clothed pussy. he begins massaging the skin there and you whimper desperately.

your panties grow more and more soaked with every passing second and you find yourself staring deeply into his eyes through the darkness. you can see the look in them and it speaks volumes. he knows that you’re completely turned on by him and he’s smug about that fact.

his hand digs into your face and it kind of hurts, but you’re more overcome with the feeling of his other hand pushing at your pants to care about anything else. “you want me?” he asks, voice gruff and lustful.

his hand moves from your face.

“yes.” you whisper breathlessly, willing to do anything at the moment for him.

“good.”

both of his hands tug at your pants, fiddling with the belt and eventually lifting your body up to take them off. your panties stay on, but he fingers at the fabric to rub at your folds.

“do me a favor, yeah? lean against the table for me.” he says, slapping down on your ass as you jump and do what he says. you lean against it like he said, purposefully sticking your ass out so he has more room to work with.

“good girl.” he whispers in your ear, hand pushing your panties aside as his index and middle fingers start circling your clit. you whimper out at the feeling, craving more but allowing him to help prep you for whatever might come.

his fingers are ruthless with their movements, circling and then diving into your wet hole. they curl over and over again before going back out to tease you more. and it isn’t long before you feel your panties soak and you’re practically panting from the amount of pleasure he’s given you.

you can feel yourself getting closer to cumming on his fingers, thrusting your hips back to feel more. “please, more.” you whimper out, and he actually chuckles at your begging.

“more of this?” he asks, pushing three fingers into your hole and curling them to hit that soft spongy spot inside. you cry out when he does that, thighs shaking and knees nearly giving out.

“yes!” you say, feeling like you’re about to teeter off of the edge and absolutely falling apart when his other hand starts to play with your clit again.

you don’t even know what words or sounds come out of your mouth with the force it hits you, his hands coaxing you through it with several chants of ‘good girl’ being whispered into your ear.

his fingers pull out once you’ve come down from your high, a wet sound making you particularly embarrassed with how soaked you are for him. you can hear him taking his belt off behind you and you’re more than eager to feel his dick in you now than you were before.

“you ready?” he asks, and you can hear him using your wetness to coat his cock before he’s lining it up against you and rubbing the tip against your folds.

“fuck, yes.” you mumble to him, eyes rolling back and nails digging into the table harshly as he pushes into you. the tip is so thick that it hurts at first, but once you’re used to it you think you might cum again just from the sensation of him filling your cunt.

“holy shit.” you moan out the words once he’s balls deep, the pressure against your insides feeling so fucking good. you lean down more into the table, and his hands grip your hips tightly as he prepares to move.

and when he does move, you’re breathless. you’ve never been with someone so big who actually knows what they’re doing, and the feeling alone sends you absolutely reeling and wanting this to never end.

“please, go harder.” you say softly, moaning when he listens to your words earnestly.

the table creaks loudly as his pace picks up more, hips hitting your ass hard as he fucks into you with more and more force. he decides to grab around the front of you and pull your back into him, an angle that has you moaning louder than you want to admit.

you can only hope that nobody hears you, but with the slapping sounds of his hips crashing into you and your noises it’s obvious that something is happening in this room right now.

“need to be quiet for me, can you do that?” he asks you, and you shake your head while whimpering out a ‘no’.

his hand grabs your face again, covering your lips and leaving your nose out so you can breathe. he decides to really start pushing it after this, thrusting harder and faster than you thought he could go.

you feel like you’re going to cum again soon. “‘m close.” you whimper against his hand, feeling his free hand reach down and start working your clit like it’s nothing.

you throw your head back when his hand is practically vibrating against you, cumming on his cock and moaning so loudly that the hand over your mouth clamps down harder to muffle your noises.

you can hear his breathing picking up too, small grunts and groans coming out as his own orgasm starts to approach. you’re still clenching on him from cumming so hard, and it sends him into a spiral.

the table you’re against starts moving from the force of his thrusts as he groans out and cums in you, fingers digging into your skin as his hips stutter and slow down.

you feel so very full- from his dick and his cum at the same time, the feeling of cum dripping out and down your thighs making you shiver a little bit. he pulls out of you and you collapse against the table, breathing heavily.

“thank you.” you whisper, catching your breath as you fix your panties, pull your pants up, and allow your panties to become drenched in both of your fluids.

“it’s nothing.” is all he says, fixing himself accordingly.

you can hear a whirring before the lights slowly turn on, flickering for a moment before powering on completely. you look at him as soon as the lights are on, seeing his usual balaclava covering his face.

he’s looking right back at you, and no words need to be spoken when you get a good look at him. you start walking towards him and right as your hands are getting ready to lift his balaclava up, the door whirs open and soap is standing there.

you know you’re very close to him and immediately feel hot, backing away and looking to soap. “oh, hey.”

he looks between the two of you, a small smirk forming on his face. “it’s about time!” he exclaims.

“soap, don’t.” ghost says, shaking his head and looking to you. his hand reaches out and grabs onto yours and you find yourself gaping at the sight.

he leads you out of that room and down the halls towards the living quarters, eyes never losing that glimmer of lust towards you as you get down to his room.

“you’re gonna have to stay quiet or soap will complain, the walls are thin over here.” is all he says before you enter the room together.

neither of you get much sleep that night, and both receive an earful from soap and a few others come morning.

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send me a dm or ask if you want to be added/removed from my taglist!! tysm for reading <3

#call of duty smut #cod #female reader #x reader #call of duty #cod smut #smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost

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dre6ming · 14 days

Text

Kiss it better

Part of “The delicate beginning rush” (click for the whole series) can be read in it’s own

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warning: hard language, curses, aggression, mentions of blood, assault

Plot: while visiting Austin on set of the bike rides something not so great happens, that has Austin pull out his protective side

Word count: 1.8k

Masterlist

Tag list

A/n: this was a request so if you have some more feel free to send them to me

"Do you know how much I love you?" Austin asks, kissing my cheek, the facial hair he had to grow for the role making me giggle with the way it tickles my soft skin. "I think in might have and idea about it." I say, turning my head slightly and catching his lips in a warm kiss, tasting his breath on my tongue. My heart beats so fast I can almost hear it in my ears, as he adjusts his hand, to hold my lower back better making sure I don't fall off the bike. He's filming for the movie Bike riders and I'm just passing through, visiting for the month, which has been great since we often get to fool around the set in between filming.

"I think I might go to your trailer and get some sleep, I'm kinda tired." I tell him, brushing my hands through his hair, pulling slightly at the root, making him groan. "Ok, want me to walk you?" Austin helps me get off the bike safely. "You think they'll let you keep it after you're done?" I ask referring to his bike, praying for a 'yes' "Probably not." He shakes his head and I pout, truly disappointed. "That's too bad, maybe I'll buy you one for your birthday!" I say absentmindedly, walking my hand over the handle of the bike. Austin chuckles, pulling me in a tight hug. "Ok sugar mama, if that's what you want to waste your pension on." He jokes shrugging his shoulders, making me laugh with my head thrown back. "Well baby, if you behave." His lips catch mine and I sigh into the kiss, biting his bottom lip, smiling when I hear him groan.

"Ok I'm going now, you need to get back to work." I say, patting his chest. Austin opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get to as he gets called back to set and I giggle at his frustration, going past him. I wink at him and get to walking to his trailer, already dreaming of the soft bed enveloping me whole. On my way, a dude I've never seen before, waves my way, nodding his head at me, a strange grin on. I can't lie, but I usually don't pay mind to such behavior, but somehow this interaction makes shivers climb up my spine and the hair to on the back of my neck to rise.

"Hi gorgeous!" He approaches me and I try to act like I don't see him, taking a few steps to my right hoping he'd get the note and leave me alone. "Hey!" He whistles at me trying to get my attention. "You deaf or somethin girl?" He asks lifer coming my way. "I'm just not interested, ok can you leave me be?" I ask hoping he'll give up. "So what maybe I can change your mind, huh?" He says, coming my way aggressively. I feel my bones shake with fear and I try to move away from him, while trying to remember everything I learned in self defense class, but all that seems to be useless now. "I don't know you ok?" I say, picking up my pace, not running just yet, thinking if I should turn back where I came from.

While I'm in my head sweating my decision, the guy catches my wrist in his hand and pulls me towards him. I wince at the way his grip on my wrist twists my joint and shoots pain up my arm. "Let me go!" I try to rip my arm out of his hold but, he's to strong. "Oh come on baby, just a kiss, maybe I'll grab a boob or two, they look gorgeous" my free hand goes to cover my chest and I look frantically around to see if there's anyone that can help me, but there isn't. Panic is high in me and the smirk the guy has on his face, makes my blood turn to ice in my veins. "Help, someone help me!" I shout as loud as I can, before he slaps me across the face. The hit takes me off balance and in doing so, he brings me flush to him, putting his hand over my mouth and the other around my waist. With my hands free I start to hit him anywhere I can, but he's big so he doesn't even budge. "You cunt! Stop fucking hitting me!" He growls at me, his spit hitting my cheek.

I can't see anything, tears are flowing down my face and I'm struggling to breathe with his hand on my mouth. I can see all the ways this might go and I'm terrified. Suddenly I'm roughly shaken and he lets go of me, so I fall to the ground, my legs numb. "Shh , hey it's fine!" I hear a muffled voice say and I feel hands on my arms trying to grab at me, I scream and push away, closing my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest and crying. I hear a bunch of commotion around me, but I'm scared to move, so I just sit there, formed into a ball.

I feel a set of arms wrap around me and I flinch away. "Shh baby, Y/n it's me, it's Austin." I hear softly and I lunch at him, throwing my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "I swear to you I want to kill that motherfucker, I hope my fist fucking stays on his face for the rest of his scum bag life." He sounds so angry, but his touch is so warm and comforting. "I I I'm sssorry" I stammer from crying, nuzzling my face in his chest. "Don't you dare apologize. Come on baby, I'll lift you up." Austin says, hooking one arm under my legs and the other on my back. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, kissing the top of my head.

I hear the door to his trailer open and soon enough I feel the fluffy bed under me. His hands push the hair out of my face and he uses his thumbs to wipe my tears away. "I knew I should've walked with you." He says more, to himself p, giving me a good look over, anger intensifying on his face as he notices my red wrist and probably swollen cheek. "I should go back there and give that guy more punches to take home." I shake my head and take his hands off my face, rubbing his knuckles, frowning when I see the cuts and bruises on his hands. "Aus what did you do?" I ask my voice barely a whisper.

"Some guy from sound said he heard some girl scream for help, my mind when directly to you, I hate that I was right. I ran and when I saw him grabbing at you, I ripped him off of you, got him to the ground and punched as hard as I could, I hope I broke something, maybe his nose" he takes his hands back and goes to the sink to wet a small wash cloth, bringing it over and wiping my face. "I'll change and then we can go back to the apartment ok? They gave me two days off." He says, placing another kiss on my forehead, then quickly undressing, putting the clothes in a bag and getting into his own. It only takes him a minute or two, but it feels like an eternity and I'm so happy, when he gets on the bed and pull me on top of him, arms tight around me. "I'm so sorry honey, are you ok?" Austin asks again

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little shaken up." I say, grimacing when I speak since it hurts from all the screaming. "I think we should go by the medic, your cheek is pretty red and your wrist is bruising" he speaks softly, massaging my back. "I'm fine." I push hoping he'd drop if. "How's your hand, does it hurt?" I ask and push myself off of him, getting up from the bed and going to my bag to pick my balm for cuts and bruises. I take the wet towel and motion him to come sit at the edge of the bed with me. "Give me your hand." But he's stubborn. "I should be taking care of you, I'm fine." He argues, making me roll my eyes. "Aus, your knuckles are bleeding, please!" I plead with him and he finally gives in. While I work on his hands his lips kiss my face over and over again, making my skin feel warm and tingly.

"I think if there's anyone that can kiss it better it's you." I admit, smiling, while I carefully apply cream to his bruised knuckles. He doesn't even flinch but I know they must be hurting. "Are you really ok? Please Y/n tell me, I promise not to go break his neck." Austin's nostrils flare up as his anger flashes back to him, and I sigh. "I'm not fine, I was so scared, I took all those self defense classes and I couldn't do anything." I feel tears in my eyes again and he places a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Come here, my darling love, I'm sorry you had to go through this, I'm here!" He assures me, pulling me into a breath taking hug.

I breathe in his scent, feeling my muscles relax, the warmth his body provides being exactly what I needed. "Let's go home and get you a warm bath, hm? And then we'll stuff ourselves full of chocolate and ice cream, while watching Twilight!" I giggle at the plans he has made for the night. "I would love that!" I reply truthfully, leaning my head back and pulling him in for a kiss. Austin's lips are warm and soft and sweet, almost too familiar in taste. "Did you use my lip balm?" I ask licking my lips and looking at him, chuckling when he blushes. "Just a bit, maybe, no.." he defends himself, bringing me back for another kiss, one of his hands holding my chin. "Liar!" I say, before his lips crash onto mine. He giggles into the kiss, and his tongue, licks my bottom lip asking for permission, which I give delighted. Austin's tongue explores my mouth and his hands keep me close to his chest, so close I can feel his heart pounding. "I love you!" I say between shallow breaths. "You're my everything!" He admits looking into my eyes and I melt into the blue of his irises.

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #austin butler fans #austin butler love #austin butler instagram #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin fanfic #austin butler fandom #austin butler x actress reader #austin butler x fem!reader #Austin butlers bike #Austin butler bike

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xerith-42 · 2 months

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I was wrong

It takes a lot to admit that, even more for me to admit that about MCD, but I was wrong about something in regards to this series. In a previous post I said that the worst episode of MCD was Season 2 Episode 95, because it was the culmination of the absolute failure that was Laurance's character arc. And I wasn't wrong about that, S2E95 is an objectively bad episode and I stand by it being one of the worst. But it's only one of the worst episodes of this series. Probably second or third worst.

The actual worst episode of Minecraft Diaries happens far earlier in it's run time than I anticipated. The actual episode that begins the degrading of every single main character happens within it's first season. The worst episode of Minecraft Diaries is Season 1 Episode 65, Our Fears.

For those of you who haven't watched MCD in a minute, or aren't insane like I am and recognize what happens in an episode from just a number and a thumbnail, this is the episode where Aphmau and Dante get chased into Malachi's abandoned castle and fall victim to his uncontrollable magic. A magic that shows people their greatest fears.

Now the concept of a ghost that forces the audience and the characters to come face to face with the leading characters greatest fears is a fantastic idea. I'm serious this is one of the best concepts for character work in the entire Aphverse. This is great, this can go so many good ways.

Aphmau's fear is pretty weak mostly because it shows her house on fire, nobody hurt, and Malachi comments that she's "Scared of losing the ones you love." My honest reaction to this was "She lost her house in episode 36 and didn't seem to care because her loved ones are safe. You wanna communicate that she's scared of people dying just show Zoey lying on the ground or something smh." It gets the job done, but not very well.

Dante's fear is the only one that's well done because it's an image of Gene about to rip apart the realm barrier in the Nether. This works surprisingly well despite only being one shot because it gets across Dante's connection to Gene and the Nether pretty well, setting up for the reveal later on. Dante's existence is this episode's single redeeming quality. And as much as I like the guy, he's not enough to hold up the episode after what happens next.

Now, dear viewer who presumably knows the plot of MCD because you've read this far into a post about this single episode, you know that at this point in the series Garroth has been found out by his brother and has the looming threat of the entire O'Khasis military on his mind all the damn time. Zane has already hurt members of his village in direct ways, and only didn't do more damage because he was called away for an emergency. Garroth has already failed to protect one lord, and he's nearly failed to protect another.

Laurance is a shadow knight. And even though the lore of shadow knights is still flimsy at this point, we know that they are very prone to killing lords, it's why Laurance renounced his position as head guard of Meteli and refuses to return. But that doesn't mean his desire for blood is gone. It just means it has a new target. Like say, the lord he comes to the castle in search of? That he has explicit romantic feelings for?

Again, this idea of forcing the audience and the characters to face their greatest fears is such a good idea, especially with these three, because they can all be interlinked. Aphmau fears losing her loved ones, Garroth fears failing to protect his people, and Laurance fears that he'll give into bloodlust. Are you picking up what I'm putting down? I don't know if I can make it anymore obvious where the show should have gone from here.

But, no, unfortunately Jesson wrote this series. So what could have been one of the best moments of character work in the entire series, instead became the beginning of the end for our would be love interests. I'm of course referring to how it's revealed that their actual "worst fear" is Aphmau getting with... Another guy. Not even her picking one over the other, just her holding hands with and kissing some guy that Garroth and Laurance DON'T EVEN KNOW!

And despite Laurance saying he's happy as long as he has Aphmau in his life, he starts getting enraged that another guy would have the audacity to kiss her. Even though the scene he's shown seems to be entirely consensual. And in response to this, BOTH OF THEM DECIDE TO TRY AND KILL THIS ILLUSION OF DANTE JUST FOR KISSING THE GIRL THEY LIKE!

AND THIS IS SEEN AS A GOOD THING BY THE SHOW!! Attacking this illusion breaks the barrier around the real Aphmau and Dante, and Garroth and Laurance are never punished for their actions here. Aphmau is barely concerned that her guards, the men she's willing to trust with her life, were willing to kill someone for the crime of kissing her. Hot fucking take, Aphmau maybe shouldn't trust these people after seeing that they're willing to kill a man over the crime of loving her when they want to.

And even hotter take, GARROTH AND LAURANCE WOULDN'T DO THIS! Both men have been shown to be highly protective over Aphmau, which makes sense it's literally their job to keep her safe, but that protective nature shouldn't cross over into actively interfering with her romantic life. They're fucking lucky it was just an illusion, what would have happened if Malachi used mind control? What if he was using Aphmau and Dante's bodies as puppets? What if Garroth and Laurance just killed an amateur guard whose only crime was being forced to kiss the girl they liked?

This is one of those writing decisions that truly baffles me. It was RIGHT THERE, HOW DID YOU MISS, IT (the perfect piece of character work) WAS THREE FEET IN FRONT OF YOU! The answer is that Jesson don't really care about the interesting character work, they care about tropes. They care about the main character being in a love triangle with two guys who equally suck but in different ways. They care about fans getting excited and debating over which ship is better. They care about pushing this love triangle onto viewers regardless of what makes sense for the characters involved because the writers fail to see the nuance of the characters that they fucking wrote the nuance of.

I fucking hate Episode 65. Easily the worst episode of MCD. Any episode after this when Garroth and Laurance act horrendously out of character in service of this love triangle (I'm looking at you episode 77, and episode 90, and season 2 episode 95, and season 2 episode 98), know that it started here. It started with episode 65.

Fuck this episode.

#I love being a hater #minecraft diaries #mcd #text post #aphblr #aphverse #laurance zvahl #garroth ro'meave #mcd aphmau #episode analysis #fuck episode 65 #me and my homies fucking hate episode 65 #actually despise this episode

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selfindulgentpixies · 7 days

Text

Learn to play the game for me

Aventurine x GN!reader Hunger games!AU

Wrote this for @decaydaddy's event! The idea of Aventurine being a previous victor and mentor for the hunger games hit me like a truck. It just fits him really well I feel like. I can't say i'll write more for this just because I can't say i'm fully back on the writing horse yet. I was just really taken by this idea because i really enjoyed the hunger games back when i read it. Even if i only read the first two books. It'll be clear that certain scenes really stuck in my head.

header is official promo art and divider credit goes to @kaeyaphile

A sharp rip echo’s through the room before a string of curses fall from your lips. “Fuckin mother fucki’- the hell did you you warn me first?! Why do I need this done exactly?!”

“Ah ah, language, if you’re going to get sponsors we need to play up that pretty and polite image, no one’s going to want to sponsor you if you don’t.” Your mentor chides as the stylist disposes of the first paper and wax strip now coated in hair, hair that you really didn’t think there was a point in getting rid of.

You glare at your mentor, pretty as a picture as he always is. He’d even been pretty when you were young children, even if he’d lacked the flamboyantcy and refinement he now carries himself with back then. You try to ignore it as more warm wax is painted onto your leg and keep your focus on Aventurine. “And you think a few sponsors will be enough for me to survive this thing? I’ll probably end up dead, and then i’ll just leave behind a ‘pretty’ and hairless corpse.”

Something shifts in Aventurine's eyes and he leans close to you. “You can survive this, you just need to learn how to play their game. Just like I did. Are you really ready to just give up and let yourself be chewed up and spit out?”

Something stutters in your chest both at the intensity of his gaze and at his close proximity. Rrrriiiip- the wax strip being pulled from your skin cuts off anything you could have said, though to your credit you don’t swear this time and just let out a surprised choked sound.

Aventurine steps back from you, the expensive heels of his shoes clicking on the hard floor as he turns away. “I’ll leave you to get finished being cleaned up.” He gives a little wave of his hand and walks away.

___

You stand before the full length mirror, staring at yourself draped in expensive fabric you would never have been able to imagine yourself in before. Soon you’d be sitting on a stage, selling yourself, selling the idea of you, to the sponsors who could tip the balance for you once the games begin. No. The games have already begun. Aventurine stressed that point to you, that the game began the second you were chosen as a tribute. Everything you did leading up to the fighting was just as important if not more so. You swallow thickly, your thoughts race, you weren’t cut out for this but who was? Maybe those brats in the more well to do districts. Not you though. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep your breathing in check.

Suddenly there are hands on your arms, squeezing lightly. Your eyes snap open, only to be met with your mentor’s in the mirror. Finally alone with him you can see concern there. “That’s right, come back to me, just breathe.”

His words make your heart stutter but you do as he says, he breathes deeply and you mimic the action. Time stretches on forever with you mimicking his breathing until he seems satisfied. “There you are,” there’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. His hands smooth over the fabric he’d wrinkled while gripping your arms. “I know none of this is fair, but I’ll do everything I can to give you every advantage I can in order to even the odds.” His voice is serious, quiet, you might not even be able to hear him if not for how his lips are pressed to your ear.

“Aven…” before you can fully say his name he continues.

“All I ask is that you fight like hell. Both on stage and in the arena. Don’t throw the game because you’re scared.” His eyes are intense, so much so that you try to glance away from his reflection in the mirror only for him to turn you toward him.

He holds your gaze until you give him a firm nod. “Good.” He rests his forehead against yours for a moment and you feel your cheeks heat, your heart racing for an entirely new reason by the time he pulls away and steps back from you. Suddenly your hands shoot out to grab at his arms startling you both.

“I-i..” A deep breath. “How… Did you manage it? You were a lot younger than I am now when you won.” Despite being your mentor Aventurine has actually spoken very little about his own games. He’s dodged most direct questions both by you and the other tribute.

“I got lucky.” He lets out a dry chuckle when your face contorts.

“That’s a terrible answer and doesn’t help me.”

“Ah ah but is it not in line with what they say about these games? ‘May the odds be ever in your favor.’?” there’s a hint of something pained in his voice.

“Aventurine, please, is that really all you’re going to tell me…?”

He removes your hands from his arms before reaching up to cup your face. You feel the warmth of his hands seep through his gloves to your skin contrasted harshly against the cool metal of his rings. “Tell you what, you win and then i’ll tell you everything.”

“But-”

“That doesn’t help you win? Consider it a little extra motivation.”

Before you can protest he steps away from you and turns to head toward the door with a little wave. “It’s almost time for your interview~” With his back to you can’t see that sadness in his expression. He’s not ready to talk about her with you yet, his older sister who’d given her all and made it possible for him to be standing here now. He can’t share that pain with someone who could be dead tomorrow.

—

Very few could ever claim to know what’s going on in Aventurine’s head, and you certainly don’t count yourself among them. So when your interview concludes and you’re just barely off stage and he takes your hand, mouthing the words ‘trust me’ then without a moment for you to process he pulls you to him, his lips crashing with yours. Your sound of surprise is swallowed up by him as he deepens the kiss, your hands flying up to grip the fabric of his expensive jacket. You almost don’t register the gasps and murmurs of the crowd. You may not see it but this moment with your mentor is broadcasted on the large screens as he walks you back a step further into view. The way he kisses you and his tender embrace plain for everyone to see.

Everything feels like whirlwind from there, granted everything since being chosen as tribute has felt that way, but this? The news of you apparently having a love affair with your mentor is everywhere. Headlines of how a pair of lovers are being forced apart and how one must watch the person he loves endure the same trials he once had to survive are abuzz. “Was that seriously necessary?!” Your face is heated and you can’t decide if you feel more embarrassed or angry as you stare at Aventurine perched on the love seat in your temporary accommodations. Shameless with legs spread and a knowing smirk on his lips.

“It makes for a good story. Everyone loves a tragic love story.” He gives a small shrug.

“Why didn’t you ask me first!?”

He raises one elegant brow. “Would you have agreed?”

“No!?”

“And that’s why i didn’t ask. This is another way i can help you and make you more appealing to the audience. Besides… You didn’t seem to mind while I was kissing you.”

“That’s-!” Your stomach twists and you feel your face heat further if possible.

He puts his hands on his knees before standing and walking toward you, when he’s about to pass you he speaks again, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “If it helps, I meant it. The kiss, I mean.”

Your world slows. “You- you don’t get to just say things like that and walk away!” You follow hot on his heels as he begins to head for the door. You grab at his expensive jacket once again, the poor fabric seemingly doomed to your abuse, and turn Aventurine to face you. His expression surprises you, all traces of smugness gone. You swallow thickly. “You can’t play games with my feelings at a time like this…” Your fire seems to fizzle out further with each moment you look at him.

“I’m not… I wouldn’t be putting so much work into giving you the best chance possible if I was.”

“But… why now? After all this time.. After you were in the games when we were little I never heard from you again and suddenly now that you’re my mentor you’re telling me what? That you lo-” a deep breath.

“And if I am?”

“I don’t know… But i have missed you.”

“That’s why you wanted me as your mentor isn’t it? I know you asked for me specifically.”

“Is it why you accepted?”

You meet eachother eyes and suddenly share a small moment of quiet laughter.

“You’re impossible, you know that right? And don’t think I’m not still mad at you.”

“Win the games and I’ll make it up to you.” And he sounds so sure when he says it that a small part of you believes you could win, if not for yourself perhaps for him. Perhaps for the two of you.

The next day, standing on the platform waiting for it to rise to the arena you feel your resolve solidify. He stands in front of you and rests his forehead against yours. “May the odds be ever in your favor.” spoken for you only before he steps back, allowing the platform to rise to take you to the surface, away from him and he hopes it’s not for the last time. By the resolve in your eyes as you get further and further from him he can believe you have a chance, and that’s all you need to win a game like this.

I hope you guys liked it! Aventurine has taken over my brain lately. I've actually written a couple other things but I just haven't polished them. This idea forced me to sit down and write it.

Tag list: @scarabrat-archived @pastelle-rabbit @fushigurro @zorosdimples @bad-as-the-boys @likelilacwine @kweenkatsuki-fics

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine x gn!reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #rossi writes

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rogersideup · 2 months

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 2

Wine and Dine

Series masterlist

Previous part: Love You More Next part: Expendable

Word Count: 6,169

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Steve wasn't quite sure he had ever ran so fast in his entire life. Wearing a heather grey henley, jeans, and some nice shoes, he knew he probably looked ridiculous as he zoomed by people in the hallways like a gust of wind.

After being deployed on the emergency mission for almost 3 weeks now, you were just about to land at the compound. From what he understood from the gossip floating around the compound, and confirming by the report notifications that popped up in the corner of his computer, it was a really bad one.

Agents were dropping like flies, if felt like every few hours one was being sent back to the compound due to injury or a psychological break. He tried multiple times to get the Avengers on the mission to help clear it out faster, it was obviously way too big for the agents to be handling alone.

Every time he tried, Fury shot him down because there already was an avenger on the mission. Though he agreed and trusted whole heartedly that you could handle it, he knew that if he was in your position, single handedly being the only reason why anything was actually getting done under exhaustive conditions, he'd appreciate another member of his team being sent to him

Not even a full minute ago you had called him in hysterics. He could barely understand you through your cries but he could tell just by the sounds slipping past your throat that you were in unbearable pain. It made his heart pound out of his chest as he tried to console you to the point of being able to understand what had happened.

When Commander Bennet realized that the wind had been knocked out of you, he gently grabbed the phone from your hands and spoke to Steve.

"Captain Rogers?" He quested after reading 'Steve' at the top of your phone screen.

"Yeah, hi, what's going on?" Steve asked frantically.

"Agent 306 is not in good shape. We had some sort of biological weapon hit us hard. It was a pale blue, powdery substance that was causing extreme irritation and almost burn like reaction on any exposed skin it touched." Bennett explained.

"But her tact suit covers most of her skin-" Steve vocalized his thoughts.

"She tried to stop the attack before it got worse, jumped on the attacker's back to yank the weapon out of his hand but..." He sighed. "Agent 212..."

"What did Harvey do?" Steve started seething.

"To put it simply, 212 got in her way. She had it and was about to put the whole mission to an end. I'm not sure if he thought he was going to beat her to it or if he wanted to help, but he threw her off and crashed right into her. The attacker grabbed hold of the collar of her tact suit from the back of her neck and poured a pretty large amount of the powder all the way down her back."

"Oh man, how bad is it?" Steve got up, already knowing where this was leading.

"She's in excruciating pain." He put simply. "We have lab techs on board studying the substance. They said that the effects are only extreme irritation, burns, and stinging pain for upwards of 5 hours. We already informed medical, they said there's not much they can do other than shower her and try to manage the pain with ibuprofen. She said she'd rather just do that at home, and she's asking for you now. Any way you could meet us on the runway?"

"Absolutely, what's the ETA?" Steve asked, walking down the hall towards the Jet landing runway.

"Touch down in a minute-thirty."

"I'll be there." Steve said simply before hanging up.

From where he was in the building, he knew making it to the runway was a five minute walk, so he made it a one minute and thirty second run instead.

He pushed through the doors to get outside onto the runway just as the jet wheels had touched down on the tarmac. The second it stopped moving, he practically ripped the door open with his own two hands and waited very impatiently for the rush of agents disembarking before he could get to you.

Harvey didn't get a chance to pass by Steve without receiving a glare from the soldier that sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

The very second he could, Steve rushed onto the Jet and you were curled up on the floor with your knees to your chest and your face digging into your knee caps. Commander Bennett was at your side trying to comfort you, but you were rocking back and forth to try and manage the pain, and doing your best to muffle your sobs as to not further inconvenience any of the other agents who had to hear you whaling the entire flight home.

Steve sank onto his knees right next to you, and placed a hand on you arm.

"You got it from here, Captain?" Bennett asked.

"Of course." Steve nodded, understanding he had more work to be done.

"Report back to me when you can?" Steve could see the worry in his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

Your commander got up and off the Jet following the other agents, and Steve's heart was still uncomfortably racing around in his chest.

"Hey, Bug." Steve gently squeezed your arm to try and get you to uncurl from your tiny little ball.

"M'sorry to bother you" You cried while lifting your head. Talking through the pain and shortness of air in your lungs was a struggle, but you took a moment and tried your hardest. "It hurts so bad, didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay, you're not a bother to me." He shook his head and got a good look at you.

Your tact suit was covered in smoke and ash, as well as your face. There was a deep scratch along your left cheek bone accompanied by smeared blood, presumably your own, and you jawline on the right side was bruised.

Steve's pounding heart came to a stand still before completely melting into a puddle when you let your forehead fall onto his collarbone. Instinctively, his hand gently cradled the back of your head.

Immediately, you felt safer and calmer in his hold. Letting someone take over your well-being when you had no control was terrifying, but Steve earned your trust more than anyone else in your life ever did. Around him, you knew everything would be okay regardless of the circumstances.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" He questioned calmly.

"Feels like I ca-can't breathe" You hiccuped.

"I know, I'm sorry." Steve pouted. "Having the wind knocked out of you is normal sometimes when you're in that much pain. It's one of the worst feelings in the world but it'll go away. Just keep taking big deep breaths, it'll start to fade."

"S...still powder in my suit." You warned him. "Careful."

"Okay, we should get it off of you as soon as we can then." He thought out loud knowing that as long as it was still making contact with your skin, you would never start to feel better. "I'm going to get you out of here and up to your apartment okay?"

"Hurts so bad- feel like I can't move." You explained the best you could, internally panicking.

"Can I carry you?" Steve questioned, wanting to make sure he had your permission.

"What if it gets on you?" You questioned, not wanting him to feel the same pain you were in.

"I'm wearing long sleeves and long pants, it'll be okay." He reassured you. "I don't want to hurt your back even more, so wrap your arms around my neck and I'll hold onto the bottom of your legs."

You were happy to wrap your arms gently around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he carefully lifted you up. Without as much as a second thought, you nestled your face into the crook of his neck and continued to let the presence of your best friend comfort you while you focused on trying to catch your breath.

Steve was so focused on his personal mission to make you feel better that he didn't let his mind even entertain his personal feelings for you anymore. Meanwhile, you had an opposite technique to reign in some pain management. Steve smelled so good that the deep breathing with your face shoved into his neck was now a pleasant experience, and momentarily took your mind off the unbearable pain you were in.

Unfortunately his incredible taste in cologne wasn't enough to completely stop your mental and physical pain by the time he got you into your apartment and gently set you down on your own two feet. He offered you his forearm to keep a hold on to steady yourself, he could tell your muscles were overworked, exhausted, and tightly tense.

Steve could feel the hand you kept hold of him with was shaking, as were your legs, and chattering jaw that you tried your hardest to clench shut.

Single handedly, he worked diligently to remove your personal defense weapons that lived in your leg holsters. Grabbing the gun and dagger, he reached behind him and quickly put them in the weapon safe by the door.

Then he led you to the couch and had you sit down, helping you on the way down. He quickly sank to his knees and his fingers untied the laces on your boots and pulled them off your feet before he got to work on removing all the black leather straps and buckles of the holsters on your legs.

He looked up at you momentarily just to make sure you didn't seem uncomfortable by how he was touching you, but your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly and your mind was so far away it felt like you weren't even in the room with him anymore.

"Relax your jaw, Buggy." Steve caught your attention with a small squeeze to your calf before going at the holster on your thigh.

"But it's chattering" You cried, relaxing it to prove it was rattling.

"That's okay, just let it happen." He reassured you.

You nodded, eyes still squeezed shut with occasional tears slipping past them.

"Let all your muscles relax, keep taking big breaths." His sweet voice guided you, moving on from your left leg to your right. "Remember that this pain is temporary, this is the worst of it right now and you're taking it like a champ. You're doing a good job."

Letting your eyes open, you watched him shove his phone between his shoulder and head, freeing both his hands to continue removing pieces of your suit. Then he started talking, throwing around commands, asking for necessary assistance to make sure your suit is properly cleaned and the hazardous substance would be responsibly handled.

At some point, your eyes closed again and you started feeling faint. He stood up, still on the phone and walked away for a moment then came back with a glass of water for you in one hand, and medicine in the other hoping it could at least help jumpstart the pain management.

Then, you heard something that made your eyes rip open.

"Hey Buck, yeah she's okay - in a lot of pain but she's going to be fine. Hey- can you do me a favor? Can you go into my apartment and grab me a change of clothes? Just a shirt and some sweatpants please? Thank you so much, I'll leave the door unlocked for you. See you soon."

You took in his appearance and realized you had completely destroyed his outfit. Smoke and soot had smeared all over his light grey shirt and the the top of his jeans. There was blood on his shoulder from your face, and wet spots from your tears.

"I'm so sorry." You cried, genuinely feeling bad about it. "I ruined your clothes!"

"I'm not worried about it" He denied your apology. "You're more important than a shirt."

"I'll buy you a new one." You shook your head.

"You have bigger fish to fry at the moment, Bug." Steve said sweetly. "Let's get you in the shower now. The faster this gets washed off of you the better."

Deep down Steve was really concerned about you, but he internalized it as to not freak you out. You seemed weak and unsteady on your own two feet, and your cries were still sad enough to make him want to cry for you.

"Help me up?" You asked, holding out your hands.

He took them without question and helped you off the couch before guiding you to the bathroom and starting the shower for you. Making sure it was not too cold to be uncomfortable, but not too hot to hurt your burns even more, he finally settled on the perfect temperature.

When Steve turned back around to let you know it was good to go, he was going to walk right out and let you shower in peace. That was until you started crying even harder just by trying to unbutton your pants. Every move you made was increasingly uncomfortable, and in that moment you both knew that showering alone wasn't an option.

The hot shocking pain and trauma of the three week long mission alone made letting Steve see you naked feel like just another drop in the bucket. You couldn't even get yourself to pretend to care, all of the insecurities and fears you'd typically have over this flew out of the window when you could see the genuine worry in his sweet blue eyes.

"Do you need help?"

"Can you please stay?"

Both of you asked almost shyly at the same time.

"Yes please."

"Of course"

You talked over each other once again.

Everything you could've possibly been worried about wasn't even a thought in Steve's mind when you asked him to stay. Although his heart warmed over the sentiment that you felt comfortable enough around him to ask in the first place, he wanted to make sure he maintained that same level of trust.

So he took the same approach he took before any training session he knew you were scared of, or any time he had to touch your body.

A simple one word question that he always expected a completely honest response to, it always went a long way.

So before he even helped you begin undressing, he asked it.

"Trust?" He questioned.

Whenever he asked you this, he wanted a percentage out of 100 to gauge how much trust you felt for him in that very moment. Whether he was about to catch you from two stories high, or send you off to do something new, he wanted to make sure you were confident enough in him as your partner. If you ever answered below a 90, that's when he would put a stop to everything and the two of your would talk it through until you felt comfortable and confident enough to execute the plan.

"100" you answered without question, your shaky hands trying their hardest to unzip your shirt.

Only after you responded did he start to undress you. His hands took over the zipper, and swiped it downward. When he helped you tug off the sleeves he was careful to not touch the inside of your suit to not get any of the substance on himself, but once your top was off, he could tell it was all caked onto your skin and no longer dry. "If that changes or you want me to leave at any point, you tell me, okay?"

"Okay." You nodded, feeling a slight relief as the cold air hit your back.

Piece by piece, he helped you get undressed and into the shower. He stood next to you the whole time, and as the water washed off the dirt and grime, he could see the extent of the damage on your back and he internally cringed.

"You poor thing, this looks so painful." Steve pouted. Though you were quite literally fully naked in front of him, he couldn't stop staring at the plane of your back. It was fire engine red, and your skin was definitely angry at the substance.

"Fury is going to be so mad at me." You sniffled, starting to feel like you could talk in complete sentences again.

"Why?" Steve asked, head tilting slightly.

"I should be at the mission debriefing." You explained.

"You we're injured, there are exceptions." Steve denied. "You know who Fury will actually be mad at? Harvey."

Just the mention of his name had your cry growing sadder by the moment. "Can I tell you something as a friend and not as a boss?"

Steve's face softened, and he nodded.

"He did it on purpose." You claimed with confidence as your fingers scrubbed shampoo into your hair. "The whole mission Harv and his friends were doing things to sabotage me and I kept getting hurt. I felt like I was going crazy, and it was already a really bad mission to be on in the first place. I feel so defeated and defenseless right now."

When you admitted that, his eyes went from your back to a big, black and blue bruise the side of his palm right on your rib cage.

"Harvey will be dealt with whether he did it on purpose or accident. He made a really stupid choice that obstructed the mission and got another agent hurt, the best agent we got." Steve explained. "They'll probably open an investigation and pull any footage they have and talk to some other witnesses to get their side of the story. If it's ruled that it was on purpose his punishment will be much worse than if it was an accident."

"They're just going to come after me even harder." You cried. "I don't know what I did so wrong that they decided that they needed to make my life a living hell. I try to be nice to everyone, I participate when I need to, I help them when they need help, and I even do the dirty work so nobody else has to. Everyone still hates me. Nobody cares if I get hurt."

Steve's broken heart impossibly shattered again. "Do you believe us when we tell you it's jealousy? The men here have tiny little ego's. They're fragile and insecure so when they see how great you are, they just want to knock you down any chance they get. It's not your fault."

"I don't feel like I'm the best one here." You finally denied in a moment of vulnerable weakness. You we're already naked, what damage could admitting your true feelings possibly do? "I don't even feel like I'm good at what I do in general."

"You may feel like that right now, but that's not fact. It's far from the truth." Steve denied your accusations against yourself. "You're meant to be an Avenger, we're all confident in that. That mission should've never been delegated to you guys. It should've gone to the Avengers, and even then it would've been hard for us. But I was watching the updates and statistics come through while you were gone. You single handedly held the operation together and led it to success with nothing but your own guidance. You're incredible, you even outperformed the Avengers."

You shook your head in denial before tipping it back and letting the water wash away the soapy lather in your beautiful silky hair. "I should be debriefing but instead I'm crying in the shower I can't even take by myself without being a hazard."

"They have tormented you so much that you believe crying is a sign of weakness." Undertones of disapproval soaked through his tone. "Their words have you believing that you're not good enough for this, yet I don't see any of them being good enough to do half of what you do."

"I don't know how to get it to stop." You sniffled. "If I don't fight back, they keep going. If I do fight back, they come at me twice as hard. If you don't say anything, they think it's okay. If you do yell at them, it just gets worse."

"Join the team." Steve stated simply, reaching out into the shower to swipe some smoke off your face that you missed.

"I'm tired, Stevie." You admitted with a sad cry. "Right now, I don't even know how I'm going to wake up and get myself to work as an agent tomorrow. I don't know how I can do this anymore, let alone be an Avenger."

"Exactly, you're tired and you're hurting." Steve validated. "Emotionally and physically, you're a human with with needs, none of which have been met in a very long time. You had your heart broken, and with no time to recover you had tosee Harvey every day for three weeks, then he hurt you even more. We'll get you some rest, some food, you'll get some time off work to make sure you heal up and recover. I promise you that you'll feel better."

"I sure hope so." You sniffled, washing the rest of the soap off now that you were squeaky clean. "Because right now, my heart is heavy and i feel defeated."

"Then let's take baby steps towards making you feel better, we'll start by making the heaviness a lot lighter." Steve offered you a hand to help you step out of the shower as you turned the water off. A hint of a smile poked through your pouted lips as he wrapped your fluffy towel around your body as carefully as he could as to not hurt your back anymore than it already did.

"Do you have to go back to work?" You asked sadly, not wanting to have to let go of the comfort he always provided you. "I really missed you while I was away."

"It's okay, I'll take the rest of the day off." Steve denied. "I missed you too, I was worried about you."

There was a small knock on the door before Bucky came in, and before either of you could even acknowledge his presence, both of your feet carried you towards him.

Bucky quickly handed Steve the clothes he brought for him, then all his attention was on you.

"Stay with her for a minute, I'm going to change really fast." Steve squeezed Bucky's shoulder out of gratitude.

You we're still slowly crying from the pain, and wrapped up in the towel like a little human burrito.

No words needed to be exchanged between you and your friend and he very carefully pulled you against his warm body for a long hug.

After Steve changed into the clothes Bucky brought him and walked back out into the living room to the scene of you being comfortably wrapped up in his arms as the two of you exchanged quiet words he could barely hear, he couldn't help the tiny pang of jealousy. He felt like a teenage boy who had no control over his emotions. He knew it was wrong, so he pushed it down just like he did all his other feelings towards you.

When Bucky noticed Steve was back, he mumbled an apology to you about needing to get back to work, and promised he would come by later to check up on you. And just as fast as he arrived, he left.

Steve helped you get dressed again, which was a struggle. But the two of you worked together to find a loose enough shirt to put on as to not hurt your back, super soft shorts, and definitely no bra to dig into your skin. But he already saw your boobs so there was no harm in that decision.

By the time you climbed into your own bed for the first time in weeks, and Steve got in next to you, a bit of relief washed over you. The tears came to an end and now you were nothing but stray sniffles and a little ball of frustration as you tried your hardest to get comfortable without laying on your back.

Steve wasn't quite sure how it happened, but you ended up half on your side-half on your stomach with your head in his lap and one of your legs hiked up. Once you were comfortable, he pulled up the back of your shirt to let the cool air hit the burn and to make sure the fabric wasn't irritating the area even more.

He could tell you were still in pain, so he comforted you by running his fingers through your hair. You soaked up every moment of the pleasant sensation, it gave you something to focus on other than the pain.

Single-handedly, he grabbed his phone and pulled up your profile on the music streaming app you downloaded onto his phone so you could create playlists together and share music. He picked a playlist you curated of all your favorite soothing songs and played it quietly for you.

Steve knew music was important to you, most of the time you had at least one airpod in your ear and you were always showing him new music. He loved listening to the songs you found good enough to share with him, and he loved sharing the experience of listening to music with you all because he knew it made you happy.

"Do you have a comfort movie or show?" Steve asked. "Or anything you do to help you fall asleep?"

"Yeah, I get into your bed." You mumbled out a joke, feeling completely drained. Your eyes didn't need to be open to know he was smiling.

"The faster we can get you to fall asleep, the better." He noted.

"Are you tired of me already?" You questioned, another joke.

"Absolutely not." Steve denied with a giggle. "If you fall asleep, you can get through a big chunk of the pain with no awareness to it."

"I was just on a mission for three weeks barely getting any sleep. Just give me a minute, I'll sleep like the dead."

"Why weren't you getting any sleep?" Steve questioned, continuing to rub your scalp.

"They kept assigning me to sleep next to Harvey no matter how many times I asked them to not do that." You explained. "Completely separate cots and sleeping bags and he still tried to get me to have sex with him every single night we were there. Every time I denied him he'd try to spark an argument then I'd get upset and just lay awake because I couldn't turn my brain off."

"He was trying to sleep with you after a whole day on the battlefield? After he said he could never be with someone like you?" Steve questioned. "Did he not break up with you? Is he not exhausted by the end of the day?"

"You'd think there would be significant logistical issues he would consider before trying to initiate but he didn't let anything get in his way." You agreed with Steve. "I have no plans of ever having sex with him again, and he thinks it's a game. Like I'll crumble and whither away without his dick."

"That sounds like a terrible situation you have to put up with everyday." Steve noted. "If I had to look at any of my ex girlfriends every day at work, let alone be on a mission with them for three weeks I don't think both of us would make it out alive, and they would be the ones surviving every time."

You sleepily giggled at his words. "It is pretty terrible, but I'm hoping he will realize soon that there's better dick to be had elsewhere. I'm horny, but never horny enough to have sex with him ever again."

"Wow, you're so strong." Steve laughed. "That was really philosophical."

"I know right?" Your lazy smile stretched.

"If he's making you lose sleep, that's just more proof he's obstructing agents from reaching the objective." Steve noted.

You hummed in agreement, letting the heaviness in your heart and mind settle and the exhaustion in your body take over.

A few moments of silence passed before Steve broke it, his thoughts becoming too loud to keep to himself. "...I really can't imagine getting it up after a whole 12 hour day of fighting... don't think I could ever do that..."

Your smile reappeared. "That's because you actually do your job and you do it well. Harvey just kind've stands there and pretends to be helping. No person in their right mind would be able to get it up after a real day of battle."

"Wow, so you're finally in the phase of admitting that he's bad at what he does." Steve noted.

"Yeah, well, I'm infuriated that we work ourselves to the point of exhaustion and he's just walking around with the audacity to have a hard dick all the time." You noted. "He deserves a life of erectile disfunction, I deserve the audacity of a post mission stiffy."

"See, this is the kind of fire I've been trying to ignite in you this whole time!" Steve enthused. "Who knew that all it would take was a metaphorical boner?"

"Relax, I'm not hard enough yet to hop over the the Avengers." Your voice was getting raspier and quieter by the second, making Steve melt into a puddle. "Give me a little more time, maybe I'll get there eventually."

"Have you tried viagra?" Steve joked.

"Have you?"

"Is your back feeling any better?"

"Why are you deflecting?" You sleepily smiled.

"Sweet dreams, Bug." He covered your eyes with the palm of his hand. "Hope you feel so much better when you wake up."

You grabbed his wrist and directed his hand to the top of your head before letting it go, and snuggling up in the blankets the very best you could. "Thanks for coming to my rescue, Stevie. I love and appreciate you lots."

"Anytime, I love you more."

You dozed off not to long after, and fell into a sleep so deep that you felt like you had woken up in a whole different world. Your phone was ringing, and there was no longer any light seeping through your bedroom window curtains.

Judging by your door being cracked open with lights pouring through and footsteps walking around, you could tell Steve was still in your apartment. Reaching around blindly for your phone, your hand found it and answered the call.

A smile stretched across Steve's face when he heard your sweet, sleepy voice coming from your room. He could tell you were talking to family, so he waited a while until he could hear the conversation wrapping up to come check on you.

It took about fifteen minutes, but he finally came in and turned the light on as he heard some goodbyes.

"I love you so much, Buddy! I'll come see you this week okay? Maybe in a day or two." Your smile was uncontrollable. "No, I cannot bring iron man with me. Am I not cool enough for you anymore?"

Steve raised an eyebrow at you when you looked up at him with a giggle. You motioned for him to stay quiet, then put it on speaker phone.

A tiny little voice came through, and Steve immediately remembered all of the times you told him about your five year old nephew that lived with your sister not too far from the compound.

“What about Captain America?" He questioned.

"I don't know Captain America!" You denied, looking Steve dead in the eye. You laughed as Steve's jaw dropped in response to your antics.

"Yes you do! Mommy showed me a picture of you and Captain America!" He giggled.

"No, that's not Captain America, that's my friend Steve." You joked.

"That's Captain America's name!" Your nephew defended himself.

"No way, really? That must be a coincidence."

"What is your friend Steve's last name?" He questioned.

"I'm not really sure, I'll have to ask him next time I see him." Steve shook his head at you with a mischievous smile while sitting on the edge of your bed. "What is Captain America's last name?"

"Rogers! How do you not know that!?" The boy laughed over the phone. "Don't you work with these people?!"

"I dunno, maybe you should be an Avenger. You know a lot more about this stuff than I do."

"Okay I'm ending this conversation before my son tries to break into the compound and steal Captain Roger's shield." Your sister took the phone away from the five year old.

"Did you hear that Steve? If your shield goes missing, we have a suspect." You told him.

"Oh god... is Captain Rogers in the room with you right now?" Your sister questioned with a sigh.

"No, she's talking to herself. She's kind've crazy." Steve denied earning a laugh from the other side of the phone.

"Tell me about it! I've had to deal with her all my life!" She laughed. "I'll let you go now, Smalls. I'm glad you're okay, let me know if you need anything. Also feel free to come over whenever you want. You know Luca loves you more than anyone in the world, we would take good care of you if you need it."

"Thank you! And thanks for checking up on me, sorry you got that alert, that must've been scary."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you're alright. Stay safe, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon" you agreed before hanging up.

"You're gaslighting a child?" Steve questioned.

"He knows it's a joke." You denied with a tired giggle. "Luca is obsessed with the Avengers but especially you. If I ever actually admitted to him that were close friends he would lose his mind and never leave us alone."

"But he's so cute! You should bring him to the compound and give him a tour!" He enthused.

"I think he would actually combust." You sat up. "Maybe one day, but my Sister doesn't think he's ready for that yet."

"What's her name?"

"Jane, she's four years older than me." You explained. "She called me in a panic because she's my emergency contact. I think Commander Bennett added an injury report to my file so it sent her an automated phone call that I got hurt in battle. It scared the daylight out of her."

"I don't blame her." Steve shook his head. "Thats one of the worst phone calls to ever receive."

"It really is" you agreed. "What time is it?"

"7:30 pm." He grinned. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better. It just feels like a really bad sunburn now." You explained. "I still feel pretty beat up from the mission though."

Steve nodded his head in understanding. "I got an email from Bennett, you were cleared from the roster for the rest of the week. So you'll start work again on Monday. Oh, also, someone from the hazard team came and picked up your suit to clean it. They reported back to be about an hour ago that it wasn't salvageable so weaponry is making you a new one. Should be done by the time you get back to work on Monday."

"Thank you, Stevie, you're the best." You smiled.

"Ugh, I know right?" He joked, back flopping right next to you.

"I take it back." You laughed, gently flicking his head.

"Fine. Next time, call Bucky." Steve joked.

Your laugh got louder and you shook your head. "Bucky would've left me on the Jet floor to beat the shit out of Harvey."

"Exactly my point." Steve settled with amusement.

"Speaking of Bucky, do we know where he is right now?"

"Probably beating the shit out of Harvey"

"You boys are exhausting." You sign smiled.

"But you love it." Steve pointed out, poking your cheek.

"I do." You admitted.

Comfortable silence fell over the two of you, nothing significant was running through your mind, but you could tell Steve's mind was running around one thought and one thought only.

"... You're hungry aren't you?" You questioned rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

"How could you tell?" He turned his head to look at you with a big beaming smile on his face.

"I know you like the back of my hand, Rogers."

He hummed in agreement. "You're hungry too."

"How could you tell?"

"Because your stomach was growling in your slee- I mean... because I know you so well!"

"Food?"

"Food." He agreed.

"Alright, let's go big guy." You pat his shoulder twice. "You saw me naked today so now I get to wine and dine you."

"Bug!" He barked out a laugh, and his cheeks immediately turned a pretty shake of pink. "Don't you even start with me!"

“Oh, and by the way, if you tell anyone you’ve ever seen me naked, I’ll beat you to a pulp faster than any other agent in the compound gets the chance to call me a whore.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Next part: Expendable

Tag list: @saranghaey @firephotogrl74 @selella @talesofadragon @ss28 @nekoannie-chan @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @spikeluv84 @crazyunsexycool @callmissrogers @xxxalicerogersxx @whore-for-chris-evans @em8rin @mulbsstuff @qalijahbydior @awkotaco24 @buckybarnessimpp @nicoline1998enilocin @buckystevelove @rogersbarber @mybuck @ynstark @dbnightingale24

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

Text

can't hurry love |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: a little blurb about older!dilf!eddie and reader adjusting to life as parents, which includes learning to have quickies where they can.

contains: domestic fluff. age gap relationship. reader is thirty-three, eddie is forty-nine. dad!eddie x mom!reader. fluff and smut. minors DNI 18+. quickie p in v sex.

Eddie was sure if he heard 'Let It Go' one more time he was going to scream, rip his hair out and shove it into his ears so he didn't have to hear the song ever again. He thought Strawberry Shortcake was bad, but it was nothing compared to this- a new level of hell that Delilah insisted on playing on a loop over and over and over. He figured it was probably because of her new Elsa dress, a costume blue replica of the character's that came with all the accessories- including a very tangled and tattered wig that you were "fixing". He had Wayne to thank for that, the old man could never say no to either of his grand babies.

Eddie was going to make sure he put the idea in Lilah's head to make Poppa watch the sing-along version the next time he dropped her off, give him a taste of his own medicine; but he knew deep down Wayne wouldn't mind.

"Delilah," You called carefully, padding into the living room with a basket full of her clothes on your hip, ready to be washed from the week before. "I think it's time for us to go lay down."

Eddie cringed, the soft whimper of shock, rounding eyes and a pout that made his heart lurch in his chest, followed by the expectant whine, loud and shrill. "Noooo..." Delilah stomped her foot. "No, Mama, we're not done with the movie!"

You looked at Eddie, lips pursed. You knew he'd cave if she begged too much, and you wanted to stop it before it started. "Delilah," You warned lifting a brow. "You gotta have a nap, baby. You'll be so mean and cranky if you don't."

"Daddy, tell her no." Delilah whined, climbing into Eddie's lap, curling into his chest. Your lips twitched, biting back a smile. You wanted to be irritated, but you couldn't. Three years old and already knew exactly how to play Eddie so he'd bend to her every whim. You wished you were surprised, but between you and Brielle, she was bound to learn the ways of the women around her.

Eddie's eyes softened, cradling her head into his chest, stroking her soft curls. He looked up at you pleadingly. "Just a few more minutes," He said, face melting. He looked down, Delilah's tiny fist rubbing her eyes as she fought back a yawn, easing into his chest and relaxing under his touch.

You tsked, lifting a brow at him. "Eddie, we talked about this." You warned quietly. You had been trying for weeks to get Delilah to go to sleep on her own, starting to ween her out of long snuggles and holding her until she fell asleep. She would start school in only a few years, and didn't need to be coddled like that and make it worse on herself.

Eddie had been less than thrilled. He loved nothing more than cuddling with his baby before she went to bed, reading her a story, his readers perched on his nose doing animated voices that riled her up more than soothed her. Often, especially if he was working at the shop late, it was the only time he got with her. He was so pouty when you talked to him about it the first time, petulant with huffy grumbles and protest, but he knew you were right.

"Just give us a few minutes, please?" Eddie's face contorted into a small smile. "The troll songs about to come on, then we'll go nap after that. Right, Pickles?"

Delilah giggled, half her face still resting on her dad's chest, her eyes still trained on the movie. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Fine, I'll go start this load and then you're going to take a nap, missy." You pointed at Delilah, who huffed and whined. Eddie's gruff, soothing voice peppering words and kisses into her hairline.

You dumped the clothes in, bending over to see a pair of your panties had dropped between the washer and dryer. You shimmied your hand down to snatch the clothing piece, blushing and rolling your lip between your teeth when you held it in front of you. It was a lacy black pair, part of a set you bought for Eddie's birthday, that you must've dropped, seeing as it was still covered in your release and his, dried and crusted on the black fabric.

Your legs squeezed together at the memory. You'd taken Eddie to the bar, meeting all his friends for his birthday, even bringing a cake to share at the small booth you rented out, everyone drunkenly serenading the birthday boy. The real surprise was when you got home. Madeline had offered to watch Delilah for the night, ecstatic to see her niece and spend time with her, so you had the house to just the two of you. As soon as you'd shown Eddie the lingerie set, he'd bent you over the arm of the couch, pounding into you relentlessly, not even bothering to take the panties off.

That had been over two weeks ago.

The shift from fucking each other anytime you wanted to with no worries, to having to sneak and worry about being interrupted by the baby monitor or tiny feet padding to your room was a hard adjustment for both of you. Even for Eddie, who had done it once before, it was still hard.

You poured the detergent in, tossing your panties in the wash, before starting the machine. You placed the basket on top, lips twisting in thought before walking back into the living room.

Delilah was heavy lidded, curled into Eddie's chest nearly half asleep when you stepped in front of the TV, hands on your hips. "Nap time, sweet girl." You cooed, turning off the television.

Delilah cried, angry and irritated, burying her face in Eddie's chest. "No, Mama, no!" She wailed, clinging to Eddie tightly. "Tell her no, Daddy!"

"I don't think that will matter, baby cakes." Eddie snorted lightly, running a hand down her back. "You know Mama's the boss lady around here. You better listen to her."

You bit back a grin, shaking your head at him. "Lilah, let's go. C'mon, Mama will go tuck you in."

Delilah cried, fat, crocodile tears streamed down her little red face. You knew it was probably from exhaustion more than anything else. She always got so cranky after lunch. "I not tired!" Delilah lisped, her 'r' sounding more like a 'w', and it made Eddie's heart swell, holding her closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against her head sweetly.

"Here, baby, I'll come lay with you ok? Just until you go to sleep, and then when you wake up we can play with your toys some more, ok?" Eddie cooed sweetly, avoiding your hard gaze.

"No," You said, shaking your head. "I'll go put her down, and I need your help in the bedroom, please." You eyed him carefully.

Eddie's brows knitted in confusion, twisting with a questioning look. You blinked, eyes flickering to your room down the hall. "Just go wait for me, please." You grit though your teeth. "I've got a really bad itch and I need you to scratch it, please."

Eddie's eyes flashed in confusion before widening, bulging in realization. The euphemism wasn't great by a long shot, you were trying to talk in code in front of your toddler, who was more interested in crying and screaming than whatever you two were discussing. Eddie blushed, mouth running dry. He pressed a quick kiss to Delilah's cheek, muttering a small promise that soothed her a bit before her nap, then handing her off to you.

You looked at him over the top of Delilah's curls, nodding down the hall before going into her room.

Delilah went down fairly easy, too exhausted from the constant running and excitement of the day to whine and protest too long. You'd tucked her in before sitting outside her door to make sure she stayed in her bed, listening until her little cries turned into sniffles then silence, the noise machine drowning out her little snores. You peeked in the room, illuminated by the soft glow of the night light and the sun peeking through the drawn curtains, before tip toeing down the hall to yours and Eddie's room.

Eddie perked up when you walked in, eyes lighting up when you shut the door behind you. "Did you get her down?" Eddie asked eagerly, standing up.

You nodded, shimmying out of your sweatpants and pulling your shirt over your head. "Yes," You muttered, feeling his eyes gawk at your bare body. You didn't wait for whatever lewd and suggestive comment was on his tongue, pressing yourself against him, your lips catching his, tugging him in deeper and deeper into you.

Eddie's hands found the small of your back, calloused skin skating down towards your ass, cupping and squeezing the fat of it until you moaned into his mouth. He dropped lower, hands tucking between your legs, swiping through your wet folds. You could feel him smirk into your mouth.

"Dirty girl," He tsked, pulling his shining fingers out with a dimpled grin. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, huffing and reaching for the band of his sweatpants. You could see his growing erection already tenting the soft fabric, rolling your hand over his cock, squeezing it lightly before shoving his pants roughly to the ground.

"Shut up." You muttered with an eye roll, feeling his arrogant grin on you, mouth watering at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, practically touching your nose. You wanted to bury your face in his groin, smother his dick with wet kisses, that's how much you missed it.

You pumped him a few times, silken skin soft in your hands. Eddie groaned, tipping his head back and you huffed. "Be quiet, you'll wake her up." You pouted, swiping your tongue over his tip.

"Then don't do that-fuck." Eddie groaned, hands finding your hair, gripping it lightly. You swallowed him easily down your throat, hands gripping his hair thighs to steady yourself, bobbing up and down on his shaft. "Shit, bunny, that-that's so good, but I need to be inside you."

You pulled off him with a small pop, eyes lifting to his in amusement. You wiped the back of your mouth with your wrist, his hands guiding you to stand up. "Never thought I'd here you say that." You smirked.

Eddie snorted with an eye roll. He smacked your ass playfully, hard enough to have you yelp and squeal, thighs rubbing together for friction. "Just get on the bed." He muttered. "Let me scratch that itch." He grinned.

You blushed, turning and climbing onto the bed, crawling into a table top position. "What? I didn't know what to say." You laughed with a small shrug, bending your front half to sink onto the mattress.

Craning your head to look over your shoulder, Eddie smirked, eyes rolling over your body, your presented ass and glistening pussy, ready and needy for him. You wiggled your hips, ass jiggling in front of him.

"C'mon, hurry up, before she wakes up and interrupts us, again." You groaned, watching him pump his length before situating himself behind you. "Gotta be quick."

Eddie exhaled slowly out his nose, smirking and rolling his tongue over his bottom lip. "I gotcha, bunny, I know." He grinned. "I'll get ya there, just slow down." He swiped his fingered over your folds, pushing his pointer finger into your sopping hole. You shoved your face into the mattress, muffling your loud, desperate moan that tore from your chest.

Eddie moved, positioning himself behind you. "Ready?" He asked, and you nodded. Eddie pushed in slowly, cock splitting you open, the burn from the stretch of his length against your walls made you whine, simmering out with the familiar mind numbing pleasure that always left you complacent and dizzy.

Eddie groaned lowly when he bottomed out, hunching over so his bare chest was pressed to your back. "Holy fucking shit, bunny." He ground his hips against the meat of your ass. "Been too fuckin' long, baby. Way too fuckin' long."

You moaned when he pulled out, hips snapping against yours, a rhythm building and pleasure pooling deep in your belly. You knew you'd be cumming in no time, the overwhelming pleasure mixed with the fact that you hadn't had him in so long, your legs were already beginning to shake, abdomen clenching and fists grappling at the sheets.

Eddie huffed, hot breath on your bare shoulder blades, pressing sloppy, wet, open mouthed kisses to your hot skin, nuzzling the scruff of his beard into you. "God, fuck, 'm not gonna last long." He warned, hand snaking between you, fingers expertly finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you crying out.

"Should be a fuckin' crime to not fuck you for as long as I did, shit." Eddie hissed. "A pussy this sweet? And I've gone too long without it, haven't I?" Eddie cooed into your ear, a little taunting and mean. Your legs clenched around his hand. "You've just been a little pent up, haven't you, bunny? So needy for me, and I didn't even know, huh?"

"Fuck," You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes. His hand on your clit pressed down harder, cock jabbing your g-spot so hard you were sure you'd be spilling over him in no time. "Too long, 's too long." You babbled.

Eddie felt his stomach clench, cock twitching deep inside your velvety walls. His hands gripped harder on your hips, thrusting deeper and harder, sloppy and sharp thrusts that took your breath away. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-" Eddie's fingers worked faster on your clit, jaw clenching when he rocked harder into you, bed squeaking, mattress springs creaking with every harsh snap of his hips.

You whimpered, the pleasure building so closely you could feel yourself tipping closer and closer towards the edge of ecstasy. Eddie could feel you clenching, his hand still working on your puffy, sensitive clit, thrusting harder, while his other cracked down on the side of your ass, a resounding smack that left you crying out- a bit too loudly- a final thrust sending you reeling falling into the mattress with a fucked out cry.

"Thank fuck-ugh!" Eddie groaned, his own cock spilling deep inside you. He moved slow, pushing farther and farther into you until you'd collected every drop of him. His head fell forward, curly tendrils tickling your back, his hot breath ghosting over your skin.

You could feel him, warm inside of you, filled with every drop of his rather large load. Eddie rested his cheek, stubble skin pressed to the skin of your back, eyes closed and breathing in your scent, calming and grounding while he caught his breath.

You grinned, eyes fluttering at the feeling of him, his weight on top of you, still buried deep inside of you. The house filled with an odd moment of silence, the ceiling fan above you spinning was the only sound other than the labored breaths of you and Eddie. If you listened closely, you could hear the very faint sound of Delilah's sound machine, muffled to a small buzz down the hall.

Eddie moved his hand, tucking it so it cupped your cheek sweetly, tilting to bring you closer to him. He didn't say anything, slotting his lips over yours in a tender, sweet kiss, full of love and passion, like after a date night and a few glasses of wine. You smiled, his forehead against yours as you moved closer to him, content and basking in his embrace. He left you warm from the inside out, bubbly and happy, full of joy that he was yours; that this was your life together, a life you created that was far sweeter than anything you could've ever imagined- even if it started out a little unconventional.

The chirping sound of the washer singing and ringing rang through the house, signaling the the wash cycle was done. You sighed slowly, eyes meeting Eddie's through a glassy gaze. "I think I better go switch them over." You muttered, your lips brushing his, nose touching. "And you better go smoke now if you want to, before she wakes up."

Eddie sighed heavily, lips brushing against yours in a gentle peck, before he pushed himself up, groaning and the creaks and clicks of his joints and bones. "Agh," He hissed, pulling out of you slowly, his release falling in a puddle underneath you.

"Ed," You huffed, lifting your ass up farther to try and keep anymore from spilling. "Now I have to wash that too."

Eddie smirked, grabbing a wash cloth out of the bathroom and wetting it before coming back. "Sorry, baby." He muttered, wiping you slowly. You shifted, rolling over onto your back while he finished cleaning you, sucking in a breath at the sensitivity between your legs.

Eddie settled himself back between your legs, rubbing against your ass suggestively. "Think she'd stay down for another round?" He asked, scanning your naked chest.

You scoffed, pushing him back lightly by his sternum. "Please, we better not test our luck." You rolled your eyes, sitting up, legs hanging over the side of the bed.

You stood, bending down to shimmy back on your discarded sweatpants. You could feel Eddie's blistering gaze on your ass. "Besides," You smirked, biting back a smirk. "You couldn't get it up for a second round, geezer." You teased.

Eddie's jaw ticked, scoffing challengingly, arms crossing over his inked chest. You laughed, putting on your shirt with a small blush. "Alright," Eddie's tongue rolled on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing lightly at you. "I'll remember that, baby."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, lifting on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "'M just kidding." You giggled, batting your eyes lovingly at him.

Eddie's hands snaked down, cracking against your sweatpants clad ass before gripping your waist tightly. "You wait until tonight, bunny. We'll see how many rounds I can go." He growled threateningly, but his eyes twinkled playfully, lustfully and alluring.

You broke apart, gathering the blanket from the bed in your arms while Eddie got dressed. He caught your waist when you passed him, arms full of the blanket, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, your head tipping back and reeling under his touch.

"Love you," Eddie muttered, kissing the tip of your nose. He fumbled in his top drawer for a cigarette and his lighter, winking at you when you dreamily repeated the phrase back to him, feeling airy and gooey, like a school girl with a second period crush. He still made you feel so important, so loved and adored.

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pearwaldorf · 4 months

Text

I have heard of Hbomberguy and the "why Sherlock sucks" but had not actually watched any of his stuff until today. The recent plagiarism video is long and extremely good:

youtube

The main bulk of the video is about James Somerton, a video essayist who I was only vaguely familiar with. I watched the Our Flag Means Death video he made and thought it felt kind of flimsy, and moved on with my life.

Turns out he's been lifting words from other published sources, many of them queer writers who were paid freelance rates or possibly nothing at all. This is a screenshot of the transcription of the video he did on queer horror (ID in alt):

I have legit never seen this level of plagiarism before. I am honestly surprised these videos sound thematically coherent at all, given the variety of sources he's cribbed them from. (There's a lot you can say about queer horror, and not all of it is going to overlap.)

The thing I don't understand is that given how much work it must have been to compile these sources, he could have done all the fucking reading himself and synthesized it in his own words. He could have just thrown up a Pastebin of links he consulted and nobody would have noticed.

One of the reasons plagiarists steal is because they have no respect for the effort put into the work or people who do said work. A (presumably cis) white man stealing the words from other queer people, many of them economically marginalized and/or of color? I'm going to say that probably figured into it.

I don't know how much he made, but it was a significant fucking amount. That's money he took from the mouths of other queer people who are probably way worse off. That's discoveries of ideas and words people have been denied because they thought they were his.

(Hbomberguy is donating proceeds from this video to as many people who Somerton ripped off as he can track down. It's absolutely not his problem, and I imagine it's going to be a bitch and a half to identify and contact all these people. It is a mitzvah, in both the colloquial and religious sense, to do this.)

And as marginalized people, we know that context (historical, global, personal) is important, sometimes essential. Removal of that information greatly hampers comprehension and understanding in ways we are already limited or denied.

It feels like a deeply personal betrayal because we like to think we (as in people who have this particular trait or share a community) are all above cynical sociopathic bullshit. But [trait/thing] people are people, and sometimes people fucking suck. I regret to say that despite knowing this in my head, my emotions do not always remember.

#plagiarism #james somerton #hbomberguy #pear text #Youtube

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wildrangers · 11 months

Text

Can This Be a Real Thing, Can It? // Jack Hughes

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: As lines become blurry, you seek answers from Jack.

Warnings: Cursing, resolved angst, lots of fluff

You weren’t surprised when a knock sounded from your door, despite the late hour. Secretly, you’d been hoping he’d come after the plane landed like he had been for weeks now. You set aside the book you’d been reading and padded to your front door, revealing an exhausted-looking Jack.

“Does it feel as bad as it looked?” you asked in greeting, taking in his swollen lip.

“Probably feels worse” he admitted, pulling you close. You wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing in the scent of him.

“Would ice help?” you asked, your voice muffled by the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“No but a kiss would” he replied and you rolled your eyes as you pulled away.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Why would be I be kidding? I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you but it looks like it hurts you to talk, let alone for me to touch your mouth” you grimaced, eyeing him skeptically.

He pouted at you, looking all the more pathetic with his fat lip. “Fine, we’re icing it first though, go sit down on the couch” you sighed and he quickly did as commanded.

You heard his soft voice greet your cat, Piper, who you assumed was making herself at home on his lap. The little cheat loved him way more than she did you. After wrapping a few ice cubes in a soft towel, you made your way to the living room, watching him coo lovingly at your cat. You smiled at the scene until his own lips spread into a grin and you saw the gap.

“Holy shit, you lost a tooth!” you gasped, nudging Piper over so you could sit beside him, your legs settling over his lap.

“I don’t want to talk about it” he groaned, laying his head on the back of your couch.

“It’s cute” you said, surprised to find you meant it. Your compliment just earned you a glare though so you gently placed the ice on his mouth, a wince of pain overtaking his features. His eyes closed as a comfortable silence settled around you both, broken only by Piper purring on his other side.

As you watched his face slowly relax as the ice numbed his pain, you couldn’t help but note how domestic this scene felt. Jack, you, and your cat curled up on the couch after a roadie with you tending to his injury. If only you actually knew what the two of you were, maybe then you’d feel as relaxed as Jack looked.

***

You two had met at the team’s unofficial Halloween party, at the invitation of your neighbor Dawson. You really were closer with his girlfriend, but you all hung out sometimes so you accepted the invite. As soon as Dawson introduced you two, you were done for. You would do just about anything to earn one of his genuine smiles, the kind that lit up his whole face. You two spent most of that night chatting and you couldn’t believe how quickly time flew.

But you were swamped with school and he was busy with the team. Over the next couple months, you two slowly became good friends, meeting up when you could but mostly Facetiming or texting. Until New Year’s Eve anyway.

Nico’s apartment was noisy but you two had tucked yourselves into a back room, clearly not meant for guests but at least you two could actually talk.

“You’re fucking with me” you laughed, wiping tears from your eyes.

“I swear to God, he ripped the braces right off my teeth” he grinned and you lost your breath altogether as he continued describing it. As you tried to get your breathing under control, you rested your head on his shoulder without a second thought. It felt only natural when his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

This was one of your favorite things about being with Jack. You two had great conversations but silence never felt awkward. Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t hear the rest of the party counting down to midnight down the hall. As they got to single digits, you moved from your spot on his shoulder to see him already staring at you intently. You held his gaze until you couldn’t fight your eyes dropping down to his mouth and back up again, willing him to make a move.

As the countdown neared its end, your heart was pounding in your chest and nerves twisted your stomach. While the group outside cheered, he leaned in, his lips finally meting yours. You couldn’t describe how you felt in that moment—all you could remember was how your lips locked together like puzzle pieces, his hands falling to the curve of your waist like they’d been molded to fit that exact spot.

You thought that moment would change your relationship and, in some ways, it did. He’d pulled away with that shit eating grin of his as he led you back to the party. You two hung out a lot more after that, almost always at your place. At first that confused you, but as time went on you wondered if it was because so many of the guys lived in his building and he didn’t want them to see you. Not that you thought he was ashamed of you but rather that he wanted to keep it lowkey. Which you could do, honest.

***

Seriously, for months that was what it was. When he had an off day or you had a light school week, you two were more than friends. Otherwise, you chatted like you had been, very little changing between you two. Right when you fully accepted the reality of the situation was the first night that he showed up at your door late one night.

You’d been just about to go to bed when you heard a knock. You assumed it was at your neighbor’s door until your phone vibrated beside you. Are you up? followed by another knock at what you now realized was your door. Rage flew through you—you could do casual, fine. But to show up announced with a ‘you up’ text? Unacceptable. As you pulled the door open to tell him just that, you stopped when you saw how deflated he looked.

“I’m sorry, I know I have no right to just show up like this” he said, sad blue eyes meeting yours.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worry flooding your chest.

“It’s not even that big of a deal, we just lost the game and I had a shit night and all I could think was that I wanted to see you. I should have at least called or something, I mean—oh shit, it’s Tuesday, isn’t it? You have your 8AM class tomorrow morning, I’ll go, I’m—.”

You’d cut off his rambling by grabbing his hand and pulling him into your apartment. “Look, I don’t mind if you stay but I am seriously exhausted so if you came here for any kind of action, you’re in for some disappointment.”

“Seriously, I just wanted to be with you” he insisted and you gave him a doubtful look. “I mean, if you’d offered, I wouldn’t have said no but that wasn’t my intention.”

You took in the slope of his shoulders, the way he was folded into himself in a way that was so un-Jack-like, and believed him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly and he nearly collapsed into you in response, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head buried in your neck. You two stayed like that for a while, the tension in his back slowly releasing as you held him.

“Don’t know what there is to say” he finally mumbled, “I totally blew it tonight.”

You shook your head as you gently pushed him back to cup his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “Jack, you are one person. You’re allowed a bad night. So, let’s get you some pajamas and into bed and you can tell me all about it, yeah?”

He nodded glumly and you pulled him towards you, your hands staying on his cheeks as your lips met. This kiss was different from any you’d shared. He normally took charge, his confidence bleeding into every aspect of who he was. But tonight, he kissed you tentatively, slow and sweet in a way that didn’t set your heart aflame but instead made it settle down in your chest. It had felt vulnerable and real and like the start of something new.

***

A little over a month later, you returned to the present moment. He came over after most games now, celebrating the wins and seeking comfort after losses. But still, no labels, no discussion of what you two were. Suddenly, the absurdity of it hit you—you were giving this man your all without even knowing if he still just thought of you two as friends with benefits.

With that thought, you took his hand, placed it over yours that had been holding the ice in place and stood up, turning your back to him.

“Where you going pretty lady?” he asked quietly. Normally, a line that silly would earn him an eye roll and a giggle. Tonight, you just wondered over to the windows, taking in the city below you.

“Y/N?” he asked again and you took deep breaths trying to get your thoughts in order. The long pause must have made him nervous because you heard him sit up.

“Jack, what are we doing?”

“Well, right this moment, you’re making me nervous” he admitted and you sighed, turning to face him.

“Jack, seriously, I need you to be honest with me.”

“About what? I don’t understand what’s happening right now, we’ve done this so many times.”

“Exactly, Jack! We have done this countless times and yet I have no idea what your intentions are. Every step of the way, I’ve thought ‘Well, it must be happening for real now’ but no, that was just stupid wishing on my part if you don’t even know what I’m asking you” you replied, turning back to face the window. You’d be damned if he saw you cry.

You were met with the first awkward silence you two had ever shared and you shook your head at yourself—you should have known better. Lost in your thoughts, you jumped slightly when his hands landed on your shoulders, gently turning you around. You let him, and he buried his face in your neck like that first late night he’d come to you see, seeking comfort after a loss. You allowed yourself to enjoy his presence for a moment before lightly pushing him back.

“I need you to tell me what we are, Jack.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do” he sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair, confused eyes meeting your own.

“No, you’re not saying anything! You’re just holding me, like you always do.”

“Exactly!” he snapped and you flinched back slightly; he’d never raised his voice before and it startled you. “When I have a bad day or game, I come here because you always know how to make me feel less shitty. When I have the best day or a great game, I want to share it with you because you make me that much happier. Fuck, I’ve been a goner for you since Halloween for god’s sake! I don’t understand how you don’t know that.”

“Because you’ve never said it, Jack!”

“Neither have you!”

That response made you pause and quickly sort through your memories only to find he was right—you hadn’t said anything either, allowing you two to float in this gray space the whole time.

“When you didn’t say anything, I just assumed you wanted it this way. Every time I pushed to get closer, you let me but only so far. So, I just left it alone” he said much more quietly, avoiding your gaze.

You sighed, leaning in to rest your head against his chest. You hadn’t even realized you’d done it—just like he said, whenever you felt any emotion intensely, you wanted to share it with him. After a moment’s pause, you felt his hand gently tangle in your hair as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“We’ve been stupid, haven’t we?” he muttered and you laughed, pulling away to look up at him.

“Yeah, I’d say so” you agreed. “I just never wanted to push you so I left it and then got mad when you did the same. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too” he whispered, tracing your lips with shaky fingers. You couldn’t remember a time he seemed nervous or unsure but if his quivering hands didn’t prove it, the searching look in his eyes certainly did. “Can we do this now? The right way?”

Your heart tripped at the slight crack in his voice and you nodded, “Yes, please.”

That earned you a grin, albeit one tooth short. His hands, a bit more sure of themselves now, cupped your face as he pulled you to him. Your lips met and you took great care to be gentle even though you desperately wanted to claim him, pull him into you as much as you could. But within 30 seconds, you felt him flinch as you accidentally hit a sore sport so you pulled away.

“I guess the kiss didn’t help as much as you thought it would” you teased.

“I mean, it did just not physically” he admitted and you laughed. You laced your hands behind his neck, pulling him down to place a kiss on his forehead.

“My poor baby boy” you cooed and he swatted you away as you laughed again.

“You swear you don’t think I look dumb with this stupid gap?” he asked shyly.

“I thwear it” you promised earnestly and he grabbed your sides, throwing you onto the couch before tickling you ruthlessly.

“Can’t make fun of me if you can’t talk” he smirked, triumphant, as you wiggled helplessly beneath him.

“I yield, I yield!” you gasped out and he stopped. Piper had long since abandoned you two so you laid out fully on the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jack laid himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest as his arms snaked around you. You absently ran your hands through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

“Jack?” you started softly, not wanting to break the peaceful silence.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think you’ll leave your teeth like that?”

“Fuck no.”

A/N: I hope y'all enjoyed, I wrote this one in a couple of hours but I wanted to get it out before Game 4 tomorrow. Please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed :)

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils imagine #new jerseys devils #new jersey devils blurb

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vlrspace · 10 months

Text

essay, bakugou x reader

wc: 1K

cw: pure fluff

“read over my essay, great explosion murder god dynamight” you said as you threw your book on the table in front of him.

bakugou, who’s been minding his own business, looks up at you from where he sits, face blank for a second before he furrows his brows with a grimace. “why the fuck would i do that, especially for you? go ‘nd ask the extras” his tone is unbothered, though he doesn’t push your book away.

“momo’s on a date with shoto and tenya uses the sophisticated words he learned from middle school, every time. that’s how i know what sophisticated means” you start to explain, before using a little tactic on him “and you’d help me because you’re so smart and good at school, like i wish i was as smart as you” you compliment him in a pleading way, hoping if you stroke his ego a little bit then he’ll help you.

“nah, i see what yer trying to do, go ask the nerds. i ain’t got time for your shit” bakugou says after a few seconds of looking at you and while you somewhat expected him to react like that, doesn’t mean you weren’t prepared to come up with something else.

“okayy, i’ll ask izuku. i’m sure he’ll help me in a heartbeat” you beam at him as you reach for your book, however bakugou grabs it first and holds it away from you.

“‘right, i’ll fucking do it” he yells at you and a sly smirk makes its way to your cheeks as you cross your arms and the ash blond, quickly realising his actions, puts your book down with a huff. “i get better grades than that nerd ‘nyways” he mumbles while standing up with your book in his hand, completely dwarfing it with his larger ones.

ripping your eyes away from his hand before he could catch you staring, your smirk turns into a small smile. “you’re the best kats” you look up to him, his body slightly towering over yours as he looks down on you with a hint of softness and you can see his his lips curling up a little bit at the ends. “let me know if you’re done” you grin and turn to join the girls on the couch.

bakugou doesn’t have time to reply, he’s only looking after you for a few seconds before turning to leave and read over your essay in the comfort of his room.

katsuki: come over

came the message an hour later and you swiftly excuse yourself from the group, all of them wiggling their brows and teasing you as you emerge from the common room, knowing about your crush on the explosive boy. your face turned red from all the words and gestures and you decided to ignore them, hoping your cheeks calm down by the time you reach bakugou’s room.

bakugou opens his door a moment after you knock on it and lets you in. you take a seat on his bed, where he joins you a few seconds later, sitting next to you a few inches away.

“yer essay was fine, just stop repeating words and use different sentence structures. the built up was good, though not as interesting as mine. overall it was bosting” he explained to you, smirking at the end and you looked at him with eyes narrow, lips in a pout.

“you’re doing this on purpose i swear” shaking your head, you gently push against his shoulder with yours, knowing it won’t effect him at all from how muscular he is. “do you think it’ll give me a passing grade?” you ask unsurely, looking down at your hands.

“i know, you’ll get more than a passing grade” bakugou’s voice is rough, but his tone is soft and he wonders if you can sense the tenderness in his eyes, showing only for you.

“thank you for reading over it!” you say, a smile tugging at your lips as you stand up from his bed, already missing the warmth of him by your side, even if the two of you weren’t touching. “i should probably go, it’s nearly 8:30 and i don’t want to mess up your sleeping schedule” there is no teasing in your tone and bakugou feels his heart beating a little faster at that as he looks up at you and your breath hitched in your throat at the eye contact. bakugou looked up at you with care, completely different from an hour ago and the butterflies in your tummy are going wild.

before you could make a complete fool out of yourself, you take a step back before turning to walk towards his door and he follows you with your book still in his hand. you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you haven’t seen his hand reaching towards the doorknob before you, opening it a little as he murmured a quiet “here”, holding your book out for you with his other hand. you turn around and take your book away from him bashfully, mentally slapping yourself for forgetting the very thing you’re here for.

“thank you katsu, you’re such a sweetheart!” you quietly say, before standing on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek, surprising both you and him with your boldness and you feel bakugou’s body tense slightly before relaxing and you feel one of his hand softly brush against your lower back, rubbing against your shirt gently.

“‘s okay” he breaths against your hair after you pull back and with a final glance at each other you leave his room with a grin and he returns it.

later that night, it’s well past his bed time and bakugou is still up, thinking about your little encounter from earlier. he knows that he likes you and he also knows that he needs to make a move before someone snatches you away from him. he gets out of his bed, fully aware that it’s past curfew and as quietly as he can, he exits his room.

he feels his heart in his chest as he knocks on your door, fearing that you might be asleep already, but you open the door, still awake. bakugou utters out the words before he can stop them upon seeing you.

“go on a date with me”

#bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x yn #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you

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qvrcll · 4 months

Note

Hi hi—ur Corio works have me in the tightest of chokeholds. Probably the most beautifully articulated writing I’ve seen in a min on here.

Was thinking ab peacekeeper!Corio getting hot and bothered over headpeacekeeper!reader…he’d just be so frustrated that someone so pretty could have power over him in more ways than one…I just know you’d do this Justice

🪼

nsfw, power-play + dark themes

i love this prompt because power is arguably coriolanus snow’s deepest, most dirtiest pursuits. he’s got his hands filthy with the promise of it and there’s no stopping a monster when you’ve already begun to feed it a routine.

but the thing with power is: it has its price. and the cost he pays for it so happens to be to rebrand himself within the districts, no less than a peacekeeper. so, when he quickly learns of the power system within all peacekeeper formations, he grows agitated. less with the idea of conduct and more with the idea of you. the pretty head-peacekeeper who seems to not be so keen with familiarity, choosing a certain bite in your words and nothing of the warmth of summer in your attitude. really, it’s all rough ends for him.

but the hardest part? he’s willing to chase those measly ends to explore you more. to map you out like a fortress he can monopolise, a clean target to hit with a blunt bullet. easy fodder. it’s all quick work to a snow - so why is he all red-eared and shaking from head to boot when you pull him into your dingy little office, somehow humiliating him more than what he begun with?

“i need you to get off your capitol horse and work, snow,” you spit in his face one afternoon, a sharp finger dotting into his chest like a pain, “not give me reasons as to why you very well deserve to be here.”

“yes.” (he wants to wring your neck.)

“yes, what?” your face is screwed into a sour frown.

“yes, head peace-keeper.” (he feels a blood vessel popping.)

“god, you’re pathetic.”

and he wants to be mad. wants to channel the strength of the very many mutts that mr gaul has eating away in her lab. wants to show you power as he knows it, dirty and selfish and so willingly like him. but his desire runs rampant - a cruel thing, an animal that he shelters beneath all his bones and teeth and blood. a thing fed with the premonitions of you so desperately that there is hunger where there is hate. desire where there is repulsion. craving where there is an itch. and so, he can’t seem to stop when his body lurches forward and his kiss begins to register as a heavy slash and all spit against your mouth.

he catches the shiver of your mouth against his as you pull away, and in the same breath, his own repulsion at what he has done. the billboards would have the last laugh, and those back home would bundle up the paper to take a closer look: coriolanus snow exiled for advancements on head-peacekeeper! read now!

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-“ he starts, but you’re quick. out-do him in both speed and wit, as your arm knocks against his rib and holds him in place, so much so that his breath comes out in wheezes. really, you hold considerable muscle on you, so the effort comes as little to none. and still, there’s anger in your eyes.

“didn’t mean to, what? kiss me? i think even a snow is capable of knowing the levels to this,” you spit into his hair, your arm now a painful intrusion against his lungs. he coughs, tries to keep composure but fails at it. his lungs don’t support much of him, and you’re still talking, “i know you can talk.”

“didn’t mean it,” his voice is barely a breath, and when you tighten your arm against him, he’s almost keeling over his knees had you not been holding him up against the wall like fodder, an easy target.

“here, snow, i’ll show you what you can mean,” you spit and before he can even begin to give it much thought, your lips are against his again. all too violent, too, when your teeth bash against his and you nearly rip the fabric of his uniform in an effort to stumble back into the heat of your office. neat, laid out and soon, coming apart at the hinges as you mash him against the back of the door and kiss him till tears begin to form.

funnily, his brawn means nothing when he’s willingly stripping in seconds, staggered and chasing after your lips when you pull away.

you use words to taunt him, barks of “keep your hands here” or “do you want me to stop?”, forcing him to comply and keep his hands at his sides, where he will have little chance to touch you. little chances at his dirty little attempts at power as you palm the hitch in his trousers, watching in amusement when he hisses and begins fuck upwards like some cheap-whore. and when he looks up, it’s almost laughable how the power that he will go sore at the limbs to possess, leaves him in some very minutes.

“fuck - fuck - please,” he whines, no shame in the way he bucks his hips up into the flesh of your hand, his dick already a twitching and wet mess as it may stirring in your grip. a few pumps and he’s already crowding the floor with his hands, his limbs, a large attempt to remember that he hates you, he hates this, he hates the pleasure you give him and - his dick spurts against his stomach, livening the air with the heat of his release and…

…wait, did he come that quick?

“fuck,” you rasp, running a finger against his stomach and collecting the stuff that remains in silvery flecks on the stretch of skin. you watch as humiliation dawns on him, power not so much as a concern as his pride, “should we see if you can last longer?”

and within the shine of your eyes, the reflection of his half naked form reflected in them, covered in his spent and breathing like there are two holes shot within his lungs, he can sense the price he has begun to pay.

yes, he takes you up on that offer.

thank you so much for the request!! + your interest in my works, im so thankful :)

#coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tbosas x reader

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lolabangtan · 2 years

Text

arte factum | pjm

After your ex-husband is found dead in his house, you're burdened with the well-being of his latest invention, a good-looking, polite android who seems to have a peculiar interest in you.

Word count: 17k

Warnings: smut, somnophilia, obsessive behaviour, suicide, mentions of domestic and psicological abuse.

# Artifical Intelligence AU, horror, sci-fi, sub!Jimin, dom!female reader, yandere!android Jimin, vouyerism, he uses one of her panties to jerk off 😭, ma’am/Master kink, homeboy just doesn’t handle well seeing her naked, creampie, ‘unprotected’ vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), nipple play, overstimulation, fingering, horny groping, he needs to chill, face-fucking him with her fingers? idk.

A/N: lots of plot, read with caution. I don’t really know what else to say. Just, hm, enjoy the filth? Sub!yanderes are probably one of my lowest fantasies 😗✌️

Read this story listening to its own Spotify playlist.

“I didn’t know you were back already. How did it go?”

You’re still staring at your reflection on the teacup, the steamy drink smudging your face despite your complete stasis. It’s been at least five minutes since Taehyung poured it for you, but you’re still gripping the cup instead of sipping it.

“Well,” you murmur without looking away, “how do all funerals go? – they’re always depressive as fuck.”

Yoongi takes a seat in front of you “You know you can be sad about it, don’t you? It doesn’t mean you’re to blame. We— we don’t know anything yet.”

“My husband killed himself!” you blurt out, finally ripping your eyes away from your reflection. “I know I didn’t do anything, but still— maybe I could’ve done something. Maybe— maybe he wouldn’t be dead if I hadn’t sued him.”

You’re still wearing all back, sitting down miserably in your kitchen. That tea that Taehyung poured you is starting to cool down.

“Your hubby was a psycho, remember? It doesn’t make him any less of a stalker just because he’s dead now.”

Your friend has always had a way with words, you think to yourself with a chuckle; after all, he’s right. Just because he’s dead, it doesn’t mean he didn’t put you through all that shit. In a way, and you feel terrible for this, you’re kind of glad he’s gone.

“Mrs Im said they’d read the will this evening. You’re not going, after all?”

“You think he left me anything?” you ask him with an arched eyebrow.

But Yoongi just shrugs. “Maybe. Who knows.”

Even if he did, you’re not sure you want any of the things your ex-husband could’ve possibly left for you after his death. They’d be soiled with hatred and poison.

It seems, after all, that he did leave you something in his will. Or that you suspect, at least, after you’re summoned to his house by one of his lawyers. You can’t even describe the goosebumps rising in your skin as you walk into the suburban house that you used to call home.

“Ma’am, it’s good to see you.” Mrs Im rushes to shake your hand when she sees you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do,” you say half-heartedly.

But, well, you went to the funeral, so it would be odd not to come; you need to finish off and seal this part of your life for once and for all.

“Don’t worry, it’s just some money and the art collection.” You don’t miss the way the woman and the notary eye each other, and you cross your eyes. “Uh, well, there is something else... that he left for you hoping you’d accept. One of his last creations. He finished it a few months ago.”

“I don’t really need a vacuuming robot, thank—”

“Oh, ma’am—! It’s something completely different,” the lawyer cries out.

With an arched eyebrow, you follow them down the hall, now more intrigued than ever, and walk down the steps that lead to his lab, where he’d work on all of his inventions. A mad scientist for a husband is what you had. A truly mad genius. You can’t even fathom what he’s invented this time.

Since it’s not been longer than a week since he passed away, the place is just as eery and spooky as it has always been.

You walk downstairs following the other two and stop in your tracks when they do, almost bumping against them. Arching your eyebrows once again, you open your mouth to ask them what’s wrong but go quiet when a young man, standing naked in the middle of the room, waves at you with the sweetest of smiles.

“God! I told you not to turn it on yet! Fucking hell, I almost had a fucking heart attack,” Mrs Im grunts, putting her hand on her chest.

“S-sorry, I swear I thought it was turned off when I left...”

Your eyes can’t help but flutter down to his crotch; his cock is thick and decently sized, but what truly makes your mouth water is how it reddens and twitches when the two of you meet. Oh, how you like nice cocks. How you need one in your life— isn’t he gonna cover himself or something, though?

“Uh, nice to meet you. Anybody cares to explain what the hell is going on?” you finally blurt out, a bit tired of their antics and dying to just have something else to look at. “I’d like to go back home as soon as possible.”

The woman takes a deep breath. “This is it, ma’am— this is what your husband wanted you to keep—”

“My name is Jimin, ma’am. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

You don’t listen and turn around towards her:

“He... wanted me to adopt this guy?”

“That’s not a ‘guy’, ma’am, it’s Jimin, or subject JM13, a robot. Your ex-husband had been working on it for five years until now,” the notary continues, finally making himself noticed.

Five years? That means he was already working on it during the last years of your marriage. Weird.

“He was planning on selling the design to a company for the massive production of, er, sex androids.” Mrs Im’s voice goes meeker and softer as she speaks, perhaps ashamed of her words. Honestly? Same. Fucking sickhead. You stare at the so-called Jimin in disbelief. “However” – you look up back at her when she continues – “he seemed to change his mind at some point and decided to keep it and make you its guardian if something ever happened to him.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a... sex robot, if I may know?”

Mrs Im walks up to the big table in the centre of the room and picks up a bunch of papers just to read them leisurely. Then she puts them back on the surface and sighs.

“Can I be honest with you, ma’am?” You nod, though a bit hesitant. “Just take it. Sell it off if you want, there wasn’t anything that forbids you on the will. Or keep it; it can clean, cook, and fuck your brains out if you want. Do whatever you want, I just wanna be over with this case already. Your psycho ex has been giving me a headache ever since you sued him after your divorce.”

You need a couple of seconds to process it all, but you quickly come to the conclusion that she’s just as tired of this business as you. And maybe a hand or two at home won’t be so bad after all.

But it’s so spooky – he looks just like a person.

“So, its name is Jimin?” you ask as you walk up to the standing figure in front of you. You don’t need to tilt your head to look at him.

“So it seems.”

“I guess you’re coming home with me, Jimin. I just hope these two know how you work,” you say then, glancing at them.

“I’ll be happy to help, ma’am.” Jimin’s voice is probably the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard; it slithers into your mushy brain and pools on your tongue with the craving of saying his name out loud yourself – Jimin. “Thank you for keeping me. I will do anything I can to be of assistance to you.”

“I’m sure you will... Come on, let’s go home. By the way, don’t you come with instructions or something?”

Jimin laughs boyishly. “I’m automated, ma’am.”

“Well, there is one thing that you might want to know, though...” The woman butts in with the papers in her hand and reads, “If it ever puts you in danger and ignores direct instructions, you can always press the small switch behind his left ear. It will proceed with the complete shutdown of its system until you decide to turn it on again. In case you are being immobilised, just say out loud its name along with ‘shutdown’ and it will turn itself off.”

As soon as they’ve handed you some clothes for him and given you the little instructions Jimin needs to function, you find yourself closing the door of the side of the car where he’s sitting right now before you head to the driver's seat.

It’s true that you don’t trust this thing in the slightest, especially knowing who created it. But you’re determined to find out what has your ex-husband planned for you and why he decided he wanted you to keep Jimin out of all the people he knew. Maybe he’s not dead and is watching you right now through a peephole in the android’s eyes? Maybe he’s not done making your life miserable yet.

“Ma’am—!”

Jimin takes the wheel in time before your car takes a turn, neglected during the short but strong while you’ve been sulking in your thoughts.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asks you then, looking at you with concern as you take over the wheel again. “Would you rather I drove instead?”

“No, it’s... It’s okay, Jimin, thank you.”

“Your heart is beating fast, ma’am. Am I making you uneasy?”

You roll your eyes with a shameful sigh. “Uh, maybe a little. But it’s not your fault— you just have a creator with kind of a nasty name.”

“You used to sleep with my Master, I know.”

“Yeah... I mean,” you blurt out, now a bit bashful, “we were married. It was a bit more serious than just sleeping together – unfortunately.”

But then you realise— how on earth does this robot know who you are?

“Did he talk about me?”

“He talked about you quite often.”

You take a breath. “And what would he say?”

“My Master... wanted me to know how much he loved you,” Jimin says half-heartedly.

So, he just built himself a friend. One that couldn’t run away from him – pathetic. But Jimin doesn’t seem too fond of him, so you relish in the idea that your ex couldn’t even keep his handmade friends.

“He didn’t love me,” you spit out. “That nasty thing wasn’t love.”

It’s pretty much pointless to try and explain what love is to a robot, so you just tighten your grip on the wheel. For the rest of the ride, you stay in complete silence, and Jimin respects that you don’t want to talk.

“Uh, I guess you won’t need a bedroom? Or do you?”

Jimin takes a look around, inspecting the entrance hall of your house. “It’s better for my hardware to rest on a bed when I’m on standby, ma’am.”

“And... when do you switch to stand-by?”

“Once you go to bed,” he replies with a smile. “But I react to loud noises and turn back on in case there’s an emergency.”

Oh, so you get a full-time bodyguard in the package too. Cool – you guess.

“In that case, you can have the guest room. My room is upstairs— well, I’ll show you around now. Follow me.” Naturally, Jimin does as told and walks behind you as you guide him through the rest of the house. “My office is at the end of the corridor. I need to focus when I’m working, so please, don’t make too much of a fuss if you’re around this part of the house.”

“May I know what’s your profession?” Jimin asks on his way back to the kitchen.

“I’m... I draw comics,” you murmur. “It’s a pretty boring job since I started working for a publishing company, but the pay is really good— and I work at home a lot, so I’d also prefer if you didn’t disturb me when I’m in there unless there’s an emergency.”

You go to grab the kettle to make yourself some tea, but he gently takes it from your hand and beckons you to take a seat instead.

“Please allow me, ma’am.”

Pulling your hands away, you let him take charge of your tea and sit down. It’s oddly nice, but there’s a little voice in your head nagging you for taking advantage of a robot. As if that’s even possible. However, the voice slowly fades as Jimin prepares your tea, your eyes fixed on the way the muscles of his back bulge and tense under the flimsy fabric.

Well, your ex-husband did a pretty decent job with this one.

“There you go, ma’am. Would you like some cream with it?” he asks again with that angelic voice of his. You just shake your head. “What would you like me to do now?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” You fidget on your spot, awkwardly taking the teacup between your fingers.

“Please— I want to be of service.”

At his insistence, you nod weakly. “Well, I guess the kitchen could use some maintenance... And I think the microwave is broken. Can you... do something about that?”

Jimin nods fervently and, after asking you where can he find the tools, he gets on with the job. You can just watch him in awe as he dusts the windows, fixes your microwave, and puts a pair of flowers that apparently had been in your dining hall all this morning in a China vase. Again, you’re too perplexed to regret your decision.

Somewhere after dinner – which clearly was made by Jimin and was basically the best bite you’ve had in a while – your doorbell rings in the middle of the house’s pre-slumber silence.

You rush to the door before he can do anything. “I’ll go, you stay here.”

When you reach the entrance hall and open the door, you see Taehyung standing in front of the gate, checking impatiently the watch on his wrist.

“Y/N! What’s wrong with you?” he whines through the intercom. “Open up! Didn’t you get my texts?”

God, you’ve just realised that you’ve been so busy with the funeral, the will, and handling this peculiar new inhabitant in your house that you haven’t checked your personal phone since lunch.

“Sorry—”

“Hey, I was mad worried,” he mutters, coming in without needing to be invited. “How did it go? What did the notary say? Did the psycho leave you—?”

Judging by your friend’s sudden silence, you figure he’s just noticed the new face standing in the middle of the hall. Taehyung’s grimace turns from shock to confusion, and from confusion to some kind of sly understanding.

“Sorry,” he chirps, “didn’t know you had company. I can come back later if you want.”

“Actually— I think you should know this.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and offers Jimin his hand for a shake. “Really? Ah, I’m Kim Taehyung, nice to meet you. Wow, your hands are so soft! What lotion do you use?”

“Listen, this is what my ex left for me in his will. His name is Jimin.”

“This? You mean... that he’s his adopted child or something?” your friend retorts with a grimace. “Or a protégé?”

“No, he’s a robot.”

But he just lets out a laugh. “You’re kidding me.”

“God, I’m being serious— Jimin, can you show him?” The android obediently turns around and lifts his shirt, revealing a plug that sinks all the way into his lower back. “See? I know it looks like a fucking joke because I’m still trying to process it all – but he is.”

Switching his eyes from him to you, Taehyung finally grabs your arm and, excusing the two of you, pushes you into the kitchen before closing the door. “Are you nuts? So, they told you your psychotic ex-husband built a robot that you could take as a housekeeper and you fucking brought it in? What is wrong with you—!”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you cut him off. “I know there’s something fishy about this. But I want to find out what.”

“If this is about—”

“Of course it is,” you cry out then and bury your face in your hands.

You need to know – you need to know if he was to blame after all or if you actually became a paranoid who dumped her innocent husband and convinced everyone that he was crazy. You need to know if you just pushed him into such a miserable and unjust fate that he had to end his life.

And perhaps Jimin has the answer.

“Whatever, I’ll keep an eye out on him. Just one creepy thing, Y/N,” Taehyung grunts as he opens the kitchen door to walk out. “One creepy thing and he’s a dead robot.”

You roll your eyes with a half-hearted grin and follow him back into the living room.

Jimin looks up from the floor. “I... I understand that my Master did bad things to you, ma’am— but I swear I’d never hurt you. I’d rather die myself.”

You decide not to answer or react to his puppy eyes. Then your friend claims to be too busy to stay – although he does make you promise that you’ll call him if anything happens – and you see him off with the shadow of Jimin standing behind you.

“Dude, it’s so fucking realistic,” Taehyung grunts before getting in his car.

Once the two of you are alone in the house again, you tell him that you’re going to take a bath to wash away every single ounce of stress from today. He nods with a smile and watches you enter the bathroom; it’s modern and large, your silhouette reflecting weakly on the black and white tiles. A spacious bathtub rests in the middle of the room.

You sit on the marble edge as you watch the steamy water fill up the tub.

When there’s enough water and the ceiling of the room is cloudy with steam, you take off your clothes, drop them onto the floor, and finally, sit down. Just that makes you let out a groan of pleasure, the feeling of the hot water licking on your limbs washing all your worries away.

You’ve always thought that there’s something oddly erotic in bathing – whether it’s just the freedom of being naked in the tub or all the possible ways one can be served and tended to.

After you wrinkle like a raisin, you decide it’s time to come out and get on with your evening; still a bit dizzy from the illegally amazing bath, you stand up to hop out of the tub, with the misfortune of slipping on some pool of water on the floor.

You fall on your backside, twisting your arm in the way.

“Oh, fuck! Shit!”

Somehow you manage to get up and pick up the remaining pieces of your dignity. Still, there’s a throbbing pain in your arm that means you most probably should have it checked.

And, of course, Jimin suddenly bursts in without knocking. “Ma’am? Are you all right—?”

His eyes immediately slide down your figure, fixing on your breasts, and you cover yourself up as an instinct.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” you grunt, ignoring the pulsing pain. “I, uh, slipped and fell. But I’m okay, don’t worry. Could make it out alive...” God, what on earth are you doing? You don’t have to cover up for him, he’s just a pile of circuits and microchips. “I’m fine.”

Slowly – tauntingly almost – you move your hands away from your breasts, feeling a tingle in the pit of your stomach when they softly move forward. You also uncover your crotch, and you’ve never felt so deliciously bare before. Jimin’s eyes flicker down to your perked nipples, he drinks up the sight of your figure for a slight second before he pulls himself back together and holds the towel out for you.

“Can you lift your arm, ma’am?”

You sigh. “No, it hurts too much,” you grunt then as you spin it. Great, now you’ll have to drop by the hospital to check if you broke anything. “I, uh— I need the towel.”

“Allow me.”

After staring into his eyes with defiance for five exhausting seconds, you raise your arms a bit, enough so it won’t hurt, so that Jimin can dry you.

Like the touch of a feather, he runs the towel against the skin of your shoulders first. Delicate, the cotton hugs you, it brushes you softly. Soon, he’s done with your arms and moves down to your breasts. It almost feels like his breath hitches at the contact of your mounds, LED-lit irises fixing on your nipples. If you were a bit more insane, you’d swear there’s some sort of sexual tension between the two of you.

But, of course, you’re not that insane yet.

Jimin was made to resemble a human— and he does, almost perfectly. A fairly good looking one on top of that. So, it’s normal that your realities are mixed up. Your coochie doesn’t know his robocock is made of microchips.

You have to stop yourself from thinking any further about Jimin’s cock. It won’t do you any good.

The contact of his fingers with your nipples, though separated by the towel, sends a shiver down your spine, and you shift in front of him.

Jimin does a very meticulous job as he kneads your breasts and brushes the fabric against them, eyes never leaving the view. For a second he sticks out his tongue, but it seems that – for some reason – he was just wetting his lips.

Then he drops to his knees, and it catches you off guard. Your core pulses at the unfathomable thought of having his tongue lapping at your wet folds, but you’re quick to hush them away.

“I should take you to a hospital, ma’am,” Jimin says softly, eyes looking up at you from between your legs. You can swear his breath feels hot. “Maybe you hurt your arm seriously.”

It’ll be a complete mess if you have, honestly. You need to hand in the sketches of your new work in a couple of weeks. A work that doesn’t even have a plot yet if you may add. So, obviously, you just can’t afford more delays.

Jimin finishes worshipping your legs dry after he asks you to sit down; you actually give it a thought at some point – you could tell him to bend down and eat you out until you’ve soaked his face and no one would be there to judge you. You could tell him to lie on the floor and let you ride his automatic cock until his stupid circuits break down. Not that you wouldn’t absolutely love it.

What a pity you’re too sane to do it.

Jimin shifts uncomfortably between your legs, eyes wandering and roaming around like crazy, before he gets up— and you swear, you swear there’s a slight tent in his crotch. You swear you saw it just now. Is that normal? Is it some kind of reaction programmed into his automatised body or something?

“Okay, let me just get ready and we’ll head out—” You turn around, realising something. “Damn it... Ugh, I forgot I brought the hamper down to the kitchen to do the laundry... Mind dumping it for me? I still have to dry my hair.”

Obviously, he nods with a gentle smile, but his eyes shift to red when he finally has your underwear in his hand; you decide not to give it much importance, though.

Since you asked him to look into your room in case there were any other dirty clothes lying around, Jimin turns the doorknob and slithers in like a shadow. It’s the first time he’s in your room – and the smell is mind-blowing; everything is imprinted with your fragrance, everything has been touched by you, everything has your essence all over it. Oh, he wanted to meet you so bad.

Not as reluctantly as he should, he can’t help pressing your underwear against his nose. It too smells like you.

You were so close just now, your warmth, your wet heat standing right in front of him. It makes something tickle within all his cables and microchips, makes him need and desire you in a way that he’s never felt before. Nothing could’ve ever prepared Jimin for the feeling of finally having you in front of him.

This smell that overwhelms each of his sensors, the fragrance of your skin that he got to learn so well, your luscious lips moving as you’d talk to him, your hands, so soft— you had invaded every single corner of memory he had prepared for when Jimin finally got to meet you in the flesh.

Now, he knows it’s wrong. He knows that giving in to his desire for you is not part of his plan. But God, how can he resist the urge, the yearning?

With a swinging movement, Jimin cups his hardening crotch; the contact is slight, but it’s enough to make him sigh and close his eyes to project images of those sweet memories. He pictures you lying on the mattress as he takes out his cock – with your legs parted and hooked around his head as he dips his tongue into your dripping slit. He wraps his wet muscle around your clit and sucks, making you clench around nothing, making you want him. A whimper escapes from your parted lips, it feels too good not to make a sound. Jimin laps at your folds deeper, wants you to remember the feeling of his tongue against your cunt forever.

The sensors in his cock thrill as he humps his hand, your panties shoved into his mouth.

It’s like a vine creeping up his throat and wrapping around it, would leave him breathless. His system wasn’t ready for this ecstatic craving, he needs to buck his hips faster and squeeze the sensitive tip.

He takes out his cock, craving more. Now fucking into your underwear, his cock slides between the folds, and Jimin comes with a pitiful mewl a second later. His artificial cum soils the already damp fabric with the frustrating, half-hearted feeling that it’s your pussy he’s filling up.

It spurts on his fingers too, so Jimin licks them clean before standing up to throw the panties into the washing machine for once and for all. Excitement bubbles up inside of him.

He was made for loving you, after all.

There are only two things that comfort you right now.

The first one is that, even though you hurt your left wrist, you need only the right one to draw. The second is that Jimin the android is here to do literally everything you want.

From taking out the garbage to cooking to massaging your feet or fixing the wobbly leg of your drawing table, he’s always ecstatic to help. For real, it almost feels as if you’re the one doing him a favour when you let him make your bed. It only gets weird when you need his assistance to do things like getting dressed or taking a bath, but Jimin is a robot, after all; it’s all in your touch-deprived head.

“Yeah, I see what you mean... But I can’t really change that, it’d create a plot hole; there’s a scene in the seventh chapter...”

Right now you’re having an online meeting with your editor, discussing the work you’ve been crushing your head off for. It’s six in the morning, you’re gonna need a whole lot more coffee to get through the rest of the day— and yet there she is, breaking you down like a truck. She’s not one for giving you any slack.

“A plot hole?” she repeats in disbelief. “You’d need a plot for that in the first place.” You let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sure these past few days have taken a toll on you, Y/N, but we need you to come up with something. The agency’s patience has a limit. You could try to spice things up a bit? Work on something more mature—? Maybe this is all just an artistic block.”

You frown, sipping your coffee. “Uh, mature? Meaning?”

“I’m not saying you go write a BDSM meaningless bestseller or anything, but... something mature readers could be interested in. Maybe you’ve just grown out of YA adventures for the time being.”

“Are you asking me to draw porn?” you retort with a snort. “That’s low. You know I like light-hearted stories. Besides, what could I write about? All I’d come up with would be raunchy stuff.”

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? Well, boyfriend, partner, fling— whatever.” Tilting your head, you wonder what the hell is she talking about, but then you notice Jimin’s back on your screen as he makes you another coffee. “Can he hear me—? You know, sexual themes can be very profound too.”

As deep as you’d like to, you think to yourself. But you don’t wanna picture Jimin in any kind of story that is in any way related to ‘more mature stuff’, so you just shake your head. That’s enough nonsense for a meeting at six in the morning.

Because well, ‘lonely girl starts living with a sex robot and eventually goes on having kinky sex with it’ sounds lame as fuck. And pathetic. It’s pretty humiliating already to realise you’re in that picture right now, at this stage of your life, in this economy.

“Well, I better get going— I have a meeting in half an hour. We’ll talk later.”

And, beep— the screen goes black, she’s gone.

“Your coffee, ma’am.” Jimin’s gentle voice snaps you out of your thoughts; he’s eyeing you intensely as he puts the mug down on the counter, almost as if he’s trying to get something out of you.

“Thanks. Can you pass me the honey—? Don’t bother, I can do it myself.”

Bitch, as if.

As soon as you take the spoon of out the jar, a jolt of pain pierces through your bad arm, and it slips off your fingers. Now they’re sticky with honey and you’ve made a fool of yourself. What a great way to start your already awful morning.

“I—”

Jimin takes your hand, not too roughly as to come off as rude, but rightly enough for you to suspect there’s something going on with him.

His stare is intense, red LED-lit rings piercing through yours in search of something, some reaction, some form of permission. The honey drops down your digits as a warning, now or never. Your heart beats painfully fast in your chest, threatening to burst right through your ribcage and onto his lap.

“Lick it clean,” you rasp. “All of it.”

Like your words are magic, Jimin rushes to part his lips so that you can put your fingers into his mouth. Funnily enough, it’s hot and wet, and you almost think you’ve heard him whimper.

Your core pulses, suddenly empty and craving something to clench around. As he keeps lapping at your digits oh-so thoroughly, you have to rub your thighs together, you hope he won’t notice. Could he, though? Can Jimin understand that he’s turning you the fuck on?

And then it sinks in.

Of course it feels hot and makes you tingle. Of course he acts like this— that is the sole purpose of his existence, to desire whomever he’s programmed to. He’s a robot, a machine. He follows cryptic orders.

But then again, as his tongue swirls around your fingers and he sucks the honey off them, you can’t help feeling the urge to bend him down on the table and ride his cock. Even if that’s pretty much the point, the craving you’re feeling comes off as terribly sad. After all, you just want to part your legs and order him to fill up this emptiness he’s provoked in you.

With a rather jerky move, you pull your fingers out of Jimin’s mouth, and he licks his lips immediately, sultry eyes looking up at you.

“T-that’s enough, you can stop,” you groan.

He gets up with a weak nod, perhaps waiting for you to ask for more, to order him to touch you, to kiss you, to pleasure you— but those words never come out of your mouth, and you get up quietly with your coffee in your hand.

“I’ll be… working in my studio,” you murmur. “Don’t disturb me unless it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You call Yoongi as soon as – you think – you’re out of his hearing range. Not that he’s not a high-tech android perfectly equipped to eavesdrop on your conversation – you doubt he even has to eavesdrop, could perfectly well just be standing in a room on the other side of the house and still able to hear your every word.

He says he’ll show up in maybe half an hour, and you get the chance to work a bit on one of your drafts, although to no avail because your brain is dry, and ask Jimin if he can bring up some more coffee. By the time you’re done, he comes into the room with Yoongi walking behind him.

“How’s your wrist?” he asks while Jimin pours the required sugar, and you hold out your hand. Maybe you’re going crazy, but he’s so indifferent to your conversation that it totally looks like he’s eavesdropping. “Looks much better.”

You nod and glance at the android. “That will be all, thank you,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jimin leaves the two coffees on your table and leaves with a smile.

“Jesus, it’s like having, uh, well— it’s a fucking robot in your house,” he muses. “Are you sure this is still a good idea? Keeping an artificial intelligence made by your looney husband at home.”

You cock an eyebrow. “It was never a good idea, especially when you put it like that.”

“But…?”

There is always a ‘but’ with you, though.

“But maybe Jimin is my only way to find out if… he really did all those things,” you finish with a weak voice.

Threatening your co-workers, blackmailing your boss to get you to work from home more often, keeping your family away from you with lies and ploys. To know that his sobs and pleas were all lies, his way to guilt-trip you into forgiveness. His way into your head and heart, to mess with it, churn and mould it into one of his experiments. To him, you probably were never anything but that – another one of his wicked creations.

Maybe it’s stupid and pathetic that you’re grasping at straws to redeem and excuse him.

When the silence weighs in, Yoongi turns around to take his phone out of his jacket, almost knocking his coffee over. You gasp and get up to save the precious mug from a fatal fall that would have totally crashed it into pieces and immediately sneer at him.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“Be careful!” you cry out. “It’s my favourite mug.”

Yoongi frowns, taking the piece to inspect it with a judging look. “This? It’s literally the tackiest, ugliest mug I’ve ever seen.”

He’s probably referring to the awful pink glitter and the even shinier ‘there’s a chance this is vodka’ written on it. Of course, it’s never vodka, but it sounded so funny it made you chuckle when you walked past the shop during a promenade with your husband. You told him about it after coming home, and even though he didn’t seem too interested, he was listening since you found it lying on the kitchen counter the next morning.

Your husband never mentioned it again, or ever for that matter. It’s one of those little gestures that fill you up with guilt and remorse.

In some way, he did care about you. At least at some point in your relationship.

“Anyways,” Yoongi murmurs then, moving the mug to the centre of the table for its own sake, “it’s up to you. Just make sure to keep an eye on it, and if you notice something weird going on, don’t just think ‘it’s a coincidence, okay?”

Not that you’d ever think that, would you? You consider yourself pretty aware of the risks you’re taking; you just consider them worth it if it means you’ll discover some of the truth.

And then Yoongi frowns, staring at you. “But— why do I have the feeling you weren’t panicking because of that?”

“Okay…” You look down, into the dark liquid in your mug, as you muster the courage and get rid of the embarrassment. “So, let’s say I started to— let’s say I started to, hm, find Jimin too attractive for my own good?” Your voice turns into a whisper, afraid he’ll hear you – that’s literally the last thing you’d want him to know. “Like, seductive.”

“I’m not really surprised. I mean, isn’t Jimin a sex robot? I guess that’s what it was made for, so that just means it works,” he says instead, shrugging his shoulders.

“But then, uh, should I give in?”

You’ve come to the conclusion that, regardless of how you try to act, Jimin is going to turn you on.

Maybe he’s just too good at this, maybe you’re in need of a good fuck, or maybe you are in fact a pervert who finds the fact that he’s a robot a huge turn-on. Whatever it is, you can’t really go on living like this and pretending he’s just a friend who lives and hangs with you.

Jimin’s making dinner right now, a casserole to warm you up despite summer being around the corner. With his back turned to you, you see from your spot on the couch how his shoulders flex and contract as he moves around the kitchen. He stirs the stew and brings the ladle to his lips to check the flavour, groaning in approval.

But some of the stew splashes out and stains his hand, so he turns around to fetch a cloth. Seeing there’s nothing around, he then brings his hand up to his lips to lick it clean. His plump lips move against the skin, tongue flickering. It almost looks like he’s kissing it, and your core tingles.

Work. Yes, you need to focus and work on something productive.

Whenever he’s in your field of vision, you feel the stupid urge to touch him, kiss him, wonder how it would feel if you’d let him touch you at least once. The possibility is so real, just one word, that they terrify you.

Dinner is ready not long after, and the two of you eat in silence. It’s weird that Jimin eats at all, but he’s told you that it’s for the sake of his performance, to make things more natural; it’d be off-putting to just have a human-looking robot standing in front of you and watching you eat for a whole meal, and he’s right.

You have no idea how he eats and digests, though; there’s still so much you don’t know about him yet.

The way he’d put the chopsticks in his mouth, how he’d lick the spoon clean, the eye contact as he’d recreate such human gestures for your pleasure. It all was literally on purpose.

By the time you’re done eating, Jimin is already starting to clear the table. You thank him for making such a delicious dinner and get up to get some work done. Honestly, you need to be alone more than anything; alone to process how fucking turned on you are right now.

“Hell…” You close the door of your studio behind your back and let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s at least get on with the drafts.”

Draft, my ass. It’s barely a bunch of sketches and some oddly timed strips without any plot. You really can’t hand this over to your editor if you want to keep your artistic dignity, but all you can think of are Jimin’s luscious lips, Jimin’s slim body, Jimin’s thighs, Jimin’s voice, Jimin’s smile, Jimin’s eyes shutting tight when he smiles at you. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. You’re a pathetic little thing who’s losing it for the resemblance of a man.

But why does it arouse you at the same time? Why do you get wet when you think about how lewd and low you’re acting? You tell yourself it’s ridiculous, but you’re dying for him to just kneel before your spread legs and eat you out.

Your hand moves on its own, your brain still wandering mindlessly around unlikely situations.

Breasts, thighs, lips, neck, the curve of a lower back sitting down, whispers, soft chuckles filled with secrecy, intimacy in the palm of a hand, kisses down the shoulder, hands venturing to touch and stroke and imprint its marks of adoration on the skin of a loved one.

When you come back, you notice they resemble you and Jimin; this is what you’ve been suppressing for weeks. Craving and longing for his touch.

Maybe this is the perfect way to unwind your frustration. You can let your imagination go wild, reflect on this confusing situation on paper, let it unravel and rebel before your eyes. After all, true artistry comes from honesty, doesn’t it? Aren’t all artists obsessed with their muses in some way? You’ll let Jimin pester your dreams for a bit longer.

You draw some sketches, key settings that you’ll use to close the plot later – if there will be a plot in the first place, of course. That doesn’t have to be entirely bad. Steamy scenes and a playful tug-of-war between guilt, obsession, and pure lust sounds good too.

The way Jimin licked your fingers clean, you know he eats pussy like a champ. He’d be so good, slurping and desperate and thirsty for your juices. Maybe a bit unhinged, hands gripping your thighs because he needs to shove his face in between.

There must be a range of stimulation to set his arousal off, right? Like, there must be things that turn him on, and maybe even a level to get him overwhelmed.

Picturing it your head gets too real when you rub your thighs together, stifling a groan. You need him to touch you, but you need to touch yourself for that matter. Sneaking a hand beneath your pyjama shorts and underwear, you stroke up and down your folds, smearing your wetness before you sink your fingers into yourself.

Legs folded and heels steady on the chair, you swing your hips and help to start working yourself open. It doesn’t feel half as good as you know Jimin’s cock would, but you can only picture him kneeled down and fingering you with his eyes glued to your reactions.

“Fuck— ah, s-shit, so good…” you moan.

Your other hand sneaks beneath your shirt to play with your nipple. Arching your back into your touch, it all gets faster, messier, impatient.

When your thumb comes to rub your clit, it feels harder to keep quiet. Fuck, you really want to have sex. With Jimin, only with him. You want to fuck him against this drawing table until you’ve creamed his cock, see your ex-husband’s talents recreating human pleasure.

With your mouth forming an O and your breast gripped in your hand, you come around your fingers, perhaps making more noise than you should.

As you come down from your high, you stare at the lewd results of your lust: two figures writhing and tangled around each other, bodies seen through the gaze of desire, warm loneliness mixed with the boiling fear of vulnerability. Jimin would never judge this, you realise. He can’t. He was made for loving you – or anyone – to an obsessing point, right now you’re his only one. You’ve fulfilled him.

Pretending nothing happened, you put the draft in a folder and keep the steamier ones in one of your drawers – maybe you’ll show them to your editor someday. Then you go to bed, luckily not running into Jimin.

The next morning, he’s making breakfast by the time you come down, hair done and confident in your outfit. But you overslept today, so you’re in such a hurry that you can only apologise for skipping such a lovely meal, and you run to get in your car. It makes him want to pout, but he’s better than that.

Jimin likes to tidy up around the house when you’re not home. He always feels like an inconvenience when it’s time to clean the room you’re in, so he always makes sure to schedule the cleaning around your activities. His bedroom first, always, and then the kitchen. Then he’ll sort it out through the day.

The food he made this morning goes into the fridge, knowing you’ll pounce it as soon as you’re back. The coffee, however, goes down the drain since it’s pointless to keep it. He’ll make you another one, he’ll make you as many coffees as you want.

One mug, two mugs, three, four, five, s— where your mug? Your favourite one, that is. It’s not with the others, and it’s not in the pile of dirty dishes either. Maybe you had a coffee last night and forgot it somewhere?

After looking in the living room, your bedroom, and the terrace, Jimin makes his way down the corridor.

The door to your studio always feels intriguing and threatening; you’ve never exactly forbidden him from going in, but it’s your den, your personal hideout. It feels like he’s intruding.

As always, the first thing Jimin notices as he walks in is the everlasting chaos lingering in the place. You never bother to tidy up after yourself as you work, and he gets so few chances to work on it that it’s almost always like this; his instincts scream that he gets down to business.

First, the mug.

Yes, he’ll fetch your mug and come back once he’s done with the kitchen.

Jimin catches the scent of coffee floating somewhere in the room, but there’s something else too, a heavier, sweeter smell that grabs his whole attention.

And then it downs on him – that it’s the scent of your arousal. You’ve touched yourself here.

Shaking his head, though, he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and decides that he’ll deal with that later. Now he needs to get on with his chores so that everything will be ready by the time you’re back home.

He finds the missing mug on one of the side tables, but the mess is too icky, he can’t help the urge to clean up a bit around the place, it’s almost an instinct in him. Just clearing the tables and opening the windows, and maybe sweeping the floor, that’s it. The bare minimum to keep a well-balanced level of hygiene.

After working on the side tables and tidying up the cupboard, Jimin moves on to your sketching table.

There are so many paper sheets and drawings scattered, even on the floor, messily pinned to the surface, marks of pencil and eraser crumbs all over the table. He squats to pick them up, dodging the half-opened drawer. He should close it before you hurt yourself.

When Jimin grabs the handle, the view of a naked figure catches his eyes. The natural need to know more, more of you, more of your desires – it all makes him open it completely and grab the paper.

The sketches are too little connected to each other to make any plot out of it, but the female character resembles you.

And the male looks just like him.

There’s this scene where she asks him to take off his shirt and sees the plug on his lower back, exactly where Jimin’s is. Just like him, he’s a robot. The sexual tension between the two of them is palpable. Is this what you feel about him? Tense and guilty and teetering on the edge every time you look at him?

Until he checks the next paper and sees that this one is longer. In fact, the scene takes more than five pages, far more than the other unconnected short scenes.

It all starts with her going to bed, probably picking up after a stressful moment. She’s wearing nothing but a flimsy tee and panties, the focus on the shape of her breasts too delicious and obvious to ignore. Yours bounce like that too, so naturally.

The android opens the door and stands in the middle of the dark. Somehow, it doesn’t feel creepy, just— anxious. He can read the mixed feelings in his stare, the same guilt consuming her.

He probably just walks up to her resting body to admire her, maybe smell her scent. A speech balloon pops up, he’s thinking about how he knows she wants to be pleased, how her boyfriend left her wanting this evening after parting ways. He doesn’t touch her like he could, too lazy, too stupid, too clumsy.

His Master was the same – obsessed with you but for all the wrong reasons. A projection of his hurt human ego and the urge to control you because everything else was out of his reach.

The male character now starts to nuzzle her neck, take in her fragrance. Playful hands sneaking under the clothes, she sighs and turns around, splayed on the bed for him. He immediately cups one of her breasts and takes her nipple into his mouth, sucking with hunger.

She locates the pleasure in her dreams and remains asleep, much to his frustration.

His hands roam down her waist and hips, worshipping her tender flesh and naked thighs. With a trail of peppered kisses down her stomach, he ends up crouched between her legs, tongue hanging out before he licks down her clothed folds. She groans, almost waking up, and it doesn’t take too long of having her cunt lapped at for her to do it.

What— what are you doing?

Let me please you, Master. I beg you. I know how wet you are, I could touch you in ways he never could. I’m a servant to your pleasure.

Jimin automatically drops the papers to shove them back into the drawer. Your scent is still heavy in the sensors of his nose, and the memory of your arousal against his tongue has not gone away – and never will.

And now he knows you want him as much as he wants you.

His system reacts instantly, the idea of you desiring him activating every mechanism as his body warms up and his cock starts getting hard. Buried in your cunt, swallowed by your pretty lips, pumped between your fingers; there are so many things he wants you to do with him. And the things he’d do to see your face scrunched in pleasure, gasps and groans coming out of your pretty lips; the possibilities feel so real now, he can almost touch this new reality.

“Oh—”

The fake flesh twitches when Jimin sneaks his hand under his underwear and wraps it around his cock. It’s leaking so much already, his Master built him well.

Paced and quiet at the beginning, he soon starts to buck his hips into his first, the friction never enough. Jimin pictures it’s you he’s fucking, that you let him sneak into your bed, wishing for him to touch you and lap at your folds until you’re coming. He doesn’t know yet how his sensors will react to the warmth of an actual person, but he knows yours will be heavenly.

Filling you up, peppering kisses all over your skin while you stroke his head and praise him for being so good – it will all be just as promised, the greatest fulfilment of his existence. You want Jimin to do it, and he’s dying to oblige.

“Ngh— f-fuck,” he gasps. “Ma’am, Y/N, fuck, fuck…”

You’re so beautiful, breasts full and fleshy, hardened peaks when it’s cold. He’d worship your hips and waist, nature made human, finding completion in the welcoming embrace of your legs around his hips. His cum would leak out and drip down your thighs, he could fuck you again and again until you’re satisfied, until you’re content with him.

His hand is now moving at a speed that will soon bring him to climax. With the other resting on the table, Jimin pumps his cock, millions of images in his system.

The dirty sketches in the half-opened drawer stare back at him.

“Oh fuck, there, m-ma’am,” Jimin whimpers and squeezes the tip, “fucking Christ—!”

White, creamy cum spurts out and lands on the table, on his tummy. Some of it even ends up splattered on the floor. Once is enough, he thinks as he forces his hand to stop, riding out his orgasm.

His greedy sensors begin to relax at the lack of stimulation, and Jimin tucks his cock back into his pants so that he can clean up his mess. He came to tidy up and ended up making it all dirtier – what would you think? Would you punish him? It was a mess, after all; dirty, messy, naughty.

But you want him. And you want him now.

“To be honest, Y/N, I wasn’t completely sure you’d even show up, but this is… This is brilliant! Hot, mature, dark, defiant—”

You glow at your editor’s praise, ignoring Yoongi’s judging look. Unlike her, he does know that there is an actual android living in your house whom you find particularly hot. But he’s not going to say anything, not when one of your projects has finally got her approval.

“I’m gonna keep this and hand it to my chief, okay?” she says with a smile.

You shrug. “Sure… I, uh, drew some steamier stuff, but I didn’t bring it here since I didn’t know how you’d react,” you say then, bringing the mug to your lips but noticing it’s empty already.

“Oh! I’ll talk it out with the publisher and give you a heads-up, how does that sound?” your editor continues. “It all depends on the level of explicit content they’ll want to keep for the work, but honestly, it sounds hot as fuck, so I’m sure you’ll be able to explore the topic wholeheartedly. Now—! Take the rest of the day off and go home, get a latte, take a bubble bath, whatever.”

She then grabs her stuff and storms off her office, claiming to have dozens of meetings and things to do. Which is probably true.

“I really can’t believe it – oh, you’re such a whore.”

“Hey!” you groan. “You were the one who told me that I should just… give in.”

“So, did you?” Yoongi asks, collecting the empty mugs and fetching all the papers her boss left behind herself.

“Not with him, but yeah, kinda. I mean, I found some ways to unwind,” you simply reply and help him clean up. “I’ve decided that this new outburst of ideas is too precious to waste.”

Instead of nodding or something, Yoongi just scoffs at you. As if that was the reason. But it’s helping you get over your artistic block, which is good for his job too, so he’s not going to complain too much. Besides, you look more at peace, and that is pretty much all that matters.

It’s almost lunchtime. You decide to call Taehyung, and the three of you meet at a nearby restaurant to have a bite together.

While you are an author and Yoongi is an Assistant Editor, Taehyung is part of the creative team. He designs covers and similar stuff for novels, helps you come up with colour schemes and pallets, and really is overall the eye everyone needs to make things shine their brightest. You met him and Yoongi long before you met your husband, and they’ve been with you ever since.

“The weather is so fine lately!” the youngest exclaims. “Why don’t you throw a barbeque?”

“At my place?”

Taehyung nods and looks at Yoongi for support. “Yeah, why not? Just make the robot do it.” You frown immediately at his words. “What is it now?”

“The android has a name, you know,” you reply.

“And why would that matter? It’s a robot, just a pile of circuits and microchips,” he mumbles, too shocked at your offence. “Even if it looks like a human, it doesn’t make it one, Y/N.”

You don’t know why, really, but it infuriates you to hear him talk about Jimin like that. Maybe you’ve gone a bit too far humanising him— it. Humanising it. But it feels so real when you look at… his eyes, his smile, his lips, his button nose. Something crafted with beautiful skill.

While your husband had made you a monster, he had made Jimin to be a piece of art.

Then, how could you not be angry at Taehyung’s shallow, hurtful words? Whatever love and sorrow were created with, Jimin and you were made from it.

“We all have our coping mechanisms, don’t we?” you finally say, shrugging. Yoongi chuckles next to you. “I don’t see why I can’t live a lie like that until it blows up in my face. Maybe you remember I’ve lusted after way worse men.”

Men, that’s the thing – Jimin is not a man.

Taehyung frowns. “Uh, I thought you originally wanted to pry secrets out of it about your ex.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I think— you’re mixing things up,” he sighs then as he starts playing with his fingers. “Maybe you should get back in touch with your therapist and discuss it with her? – you’re not going to listen to me anyway.”

You decide not to dwell on the subject any further; you want some peace of mind for when you come home to Jimin. He’s always such an expert when it comes to your gestures, can pick up any mood swing in an instant. It was scary at first, but now you’ve come to feel astonishingly natural about it. Maybe you even find it soothing.

It’s past ten when you get home. Not too drunk, maybe a little tipsy. At most – you swear.

Tiptoeing your way through the entrance hall, heels hanging from your hands, you hear the notification sound and take out your phone. You let out a giggle at Taehyung’s idiotic text, but suddenly you’re bumping your face on the wall and letting out a groan of pain.

Just as your wrist is finishing to heal, now you’re hurting your nose? Great.

You whimper a bit more on the floor before you get up and go on your way, still rubbing the bridge of your nose with a frown.

After managing to do your skincare routine and change into your pyjamas – or rather a tee and a pair of panties because Jesus Christ it is hot – you tuck yourself into your bed with a smile, glad to finally find yourself ready to sleep. Not a single worry or concern in your head, just the utter joy of knowing that tomorrow you won’t have to face any troubles.

And just like that, you fall asleep. And as always, one thought goes to your mysterious housemate.

He’s all over you, hot breath fanning against your cleavage.

With his hands snuck under your shirt and kneading your breasts, Jimin begins to play with one of your nipples and profusely watches your reactions, hoping to see you wake up any time soon.

You, however, only groan quietly and arch your back, thighs rubbing together. He’s not getting concerned only because you’re still breathing and you don’t look too pale. Jimin leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and rucks up the fabric, engrossed by the sight of your bare breasts.

He wants to touch every corner of your body, but he wants you to be awake to enjoy it.

Slowly, Jimin makes his way down to the waistband of your underwear. Your smell is so sweet, so intoxicating, each of his sensors is going wild at the mere thought of tasting you; your arousal against his tongue as he laps at your folds, your breasts bouncing as you arch your back, it all makes his fingers tighten on your hips. This desire to melt into your body is consuming him.

Jimin doesn’t need air, but he feels breathless.

His fingertips stroke your clothed folds, feeling them warm already. Arousal soaks the fabric, you’d welcome him so easily. One word from you and he’ll be on his knees ready to pleasure you.

“Hm…” you suddenly let out, turning your head around. Your hips buck, chasing his touch.

This is exactly what you wanted him to do, he thinks as he pulls down your underwear. He will fulfil your fantasy tonight.

As Jimin finds room between your thighs, you stir on the bed, pretty much unbothered for now. You’ll wake up to ecstasy, he’ll make sure you do. The firmest path to your love, he’ll carve it with his teeth if it’s necessary; with his tongue shoved between your legs as he helps his Master find complete bliss.

The trail of thoughts has left him a bit agitated by the time his lips meet your skin. Jimin plays with your inner thighs, kissing the flesh, teasing his sloppy way to your folds while his hands stroke up and down your waist. The sight of your wet heat welcomes him.

His tongue parts your lips, and he grips your butt to spread your legs, giving him better access. He wants you to drown him between your legs, make him yours, claim him. Sucking, licking, lapping at your folds, slurping and flicking his tongue; Jimin watches you move on the mattress once again, a soft moan escaping from your lips. Your thighs hug his head so nicely, and your hips rock against his mouth in a greedy search for that wet, warm pressure.

“What—?” Your eyes widen at the sight of Jimin’s face shoved against your cunt, and you pull your hips away from him in a jerk. He doesn’t try to stop you, crawling instead on top of you. “What the fuck, Jimin!” you let out. “Get away from me!”

You push his face away with your palm, and he backs off without complaint. Jimin ends up sitting on his knees – so poignant and obedient you almost pity him.

His face is still soaked with your arousal. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I thought—”

Jimin cuts himself off, and you’re surprised to see that you’ve managed to leave him speechless. Then, seeing you’re not showing any reaction besides your bated breath, he crawls back to you, and you lie back, unsure about what to do. What is there to do now? He seems insistent, and your core is still pulsing, eager to be pushed over the edge.

“I want to pleasure you, ma’am,” Jimin murmurs, staring down at you with his intense red LED-lit eyes.

They’re almost heart-shaped, seeing the adoration he’s looking at you with. It makes you rub your thighs together again.

Your eyes flicker to the red switch behind his ear for a second.

“Why?” you ask with a thin voice.

This time he nuzzles your neck but you don’t mind. Instead, you have to resist the urge to move your hand from his face up to the crown of his head and pet him. You want to know why would he decide to sneak into your bed and— well, eat you out.

“I… saw the things you drew,” Jimin says, and your cheeks heat up in a mortified blush. “So, I thought they were… us.”

“W-well, you thought— you thought wrong, Jimin—”

He nods weakly and lowers his eyes, perhaps unable to keep eye contact now that he’s failed in his task. You have no idea what his ‘brain’ works like. “Yes, ma’am, I see it now.”

Was it wrong of him? Of course it was. Have you been wishing that he – or you for that matter, were you any braver – would do it? Absolutely yes. Jimin has finally surpassed the line you were even afraid of admitting it was there, and you feel… free; to touch him, to let him touch you, to kiss and be kissed. Maybe this will be your final downfall into madness, so God, let it be spectacular.

“That’s not the answer I was expecting,” you muse, suddenly grinning. “What do you say when you’ve been bad, Jimin?”

His eyes look into yours in search of some kind of hesitation, of some signal that he might be taking your actions the wrong way – again. But you’re staring up at him, a confident look on you, hands stroking the back of his hair as they move to play with the switch.

His body trembles.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I won’t do it again.”

“That’s better.” Your smirk widens, leaving the switch behind to stroke the back of his hair. “Good boy.”

Good boy. Good boy. His whole body goes into overdrive, limps tightening to bend down for a kiss. Good boy. But you don’t want him there, not yet, so you beckon at him to keep going further down, and Jimin gets it instantly, nestling his head between your legs without a question; you’re still dripping wet from his previous ministrations.

His laps at your nub turn sloppy as his flat tongue moves long and slow with broad strokes, there’s saliva running down the corner of his lips again. Jimin wants to savour your wetness until it’s recorded in every chip inside his head.

“Of fuck, oh— Jimin, J-Jimin,” you groan. ��Shit! There, just like that—”

This is so much better now that he can hear your voice.

Your sweet voice he’s fantasised so much about, every night since he recalls his own existence. It’s been you, always you, you all over.

With your thighs fluttering around his head, Jimin opens his mouth and starts fucking you with his tongue – a perk about being a robot is that his tongue never tires, like, ever. And he keeps shoving his pointed tongue inside of you again and again, until he pulls away; his chin is soiled with a filthy mix of your arousal and his saliva, whatever that’s made of.

Making eye contact, he slips a finger inside. You’re stretched out enough for it to slide in easily, especially since you’re dripping wet. His tongue keeps flickering at your swollen nub.

“Come up here.”

You finally join for a hard kiss, lips crushing in desperation. The contact leaves you both trembling, eager, expectant. He’s still wearing his pants as he nestles his hips against yours, face buried between your exposed breasts.

You take his hand in yours to pace it, and he gets the clue instantly, curling his finger inside of you.

Knuckles deep, Jimin keeps pumping them in and out carefully, eyes fixed on your face to see what makes you grunt and moan. You tug at his hair, sensors throbbing in excitement at the roughness, when the knot in the pit of your stomach tightens.

“I want you to make me cum,” you say then, staring into his glowing eyes.

“Yes, Master.”

He fingers you while you kiss him, brushing lips together, sucking on his tongue, fingertips massaging your dripping walls and rubbing your sweet spot.

It all feels so real to the touch, you’re slowly sinking into a different world; a world where he’s human and you’re cradling a person in your arms, a world where your heart doesn’t bleed at any resemblance of love. A world where it doesn’t scare you. And it’s all Jimin, hovering over you like a dutiful shadow.

“Master,” he moans against your lips. “F-fuck, I was— I was made for loving you, Master.”

And you were made for being loved by me.

Jimin’s lips clumsily brush against yours, your tongues rolling over each other in a sloppy kiss. Pleasure grips your guts tightly, you can’t help but wish it was his cock instead working you open. Fucking you into what’s probably the best orgasm of your life.

Pleasure seeps into you with a shiver, starting from the crown of your head and taking over the rest of your body. You call for him in a whisper, and Jimin replies chanting your name like it’s a prayer. The way he adores you just pushes you further into your approaching climax. The coiling tension in your stomach engorges and gets bigger, you chase your orgasm against his fingers, his thumb stroking your swollen clit until your guts tighten.

“Shit, J-Jimin, you’re— you’re doing so well,” you groan and sink your teeth into the fake flesh of his neck. “I’m close, I’m close—”

Your hips stutter as they thrust up against his fingers, and Jimin goes faster, trying to separate the delicious sting of your love bite to focus on his arm’s motions. They have to be perfect, exact, and precise to bring you to your climax.

But he lets out a moan of pleasure when your walls clench around his finger; the memories of your warmth around him are foggy and delirious.

His body feels boiling against yours, machinery melting. Whatever his conscience is like, it’s slowly vanishing into pleasure, a mellow taste of honey on his tongue. It’s sweet and intoxicating, just like your touch – just like your hands, crawling right now to his neck to anchor him over you.

Then you go still underneath him, under his cautious stare, and with a grin, you climax around his fingers. You groan his name and claim his lips again, to which he obliges, of course. Your skin is sweaty, and you’re fighting to catch your breath while he worships your body in the afterglow of your orgasm.

Jimin peppers little pecks down your neck and chest with adoration. “Thank you, Master, thank you, thank you—”

Now that you’ve quenched your sickly thirst for the robot, you’ll go on living your normal life. No more nightly encounters, no more delirious feelings of tenderness. You will exist normally from now on.

You’re a liar. A filthy, wicked liar.

Never again, you had told yourself after that night. Letting Jimin eat you out in your own bed until you came not once but three times was one thing. Letting him sleep next to you as he recharged was a bit over the line but still acceptable.

And now here you are, sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs spread open and Jimin’s warm tongue shoved into your cunt. This wicked tryst has been going on for days now, seems to be your chosen pastime ever since. Any time you run into each other at the house, it’s like you get instantly wet and feel that familiar tingling between your thighs, and he’s not even a bit less reactive to you. Whoever reacts first doesn’t matter, the other will act accordingly; it’s as if you were addicted to each other.

Jimin knows your body like the palm of his hand. Knows where to touch you to make you tremble, knows what to say to fuel you. Always so eager to please you.

It’s like your hormones are constantly bubbling up, boiling inside your body pending his presence.

You’re practically fucking Jimin’s mouth with your tongue now. Fingers tangled in his hair, you want him as close as he may be. The feeling of his wet tongue on your cunt still lingers like a throbbing memory.

“Jimin,” you whisper against his lips.

His hands are on the counter, grounding himself. “Yes, Master?” he replies then, following your lips in another kiss.

“You’ve been enough of a tease, don’t you think?” you ask with an arched eyebrow, and Jimin tilts his head to the side, rather confused. “I want your cock now.”

You don’t know why, but you've yet to try him out. All of him, that is. Jimin has proved himself to be worthy of your body and trust, able to worship with each part of his. Except, for some reason, his cock – but you’ve started to suspect why he’s so reluctant to do it.

As Jimin begins to fumble with his pants, his eyes are fixed on yours; it’s the first time you notice him unsure about something, and it makes you shrink in doubt. Your hands find rest on his.

“You didn’t like it,” he murmurs then, “with him.”

How he is aware of that you don’t know. Although he doesn’t refer to him as his Master anymore, you’ve taken over that title now. For Jimin, that sweet, evergreen word will be chained to you forever, and he will honour it. Engraved in his hands, in the pad of his fingers, in the tip of his tongue as he worships you.

You cup his cheeks, stroking them with your thumbs. “But you’re not him, are you?”

In a way. You’d be repulsed.

Jimin’s silence confuses you, but you decide not to dwell on it, and so you pull him in for another kiss; you run your tongue over his lips, and he parts his luscious lips to let you in.

With a mischievous grin, you jump off the counter and face Jimin as you play with the waistband of his trousers, making him step back until the two of you slowly fall on the couch. Once you take his cock out, you raise your hips, finally about to feel him.

And then a ringing noise interrupts.

His LED-lit eyes turn into a devious yellowish tone when you pull back to pick up the phone with a groan.

Jimin knows that voice, has seen the guy’s face – Kim Taehyung, the little shit who would hit on you all the time when you were at work. The memories of his face are tinted with an angry red he hasn’t even put there himself, bloody-like and rabid. But the mere thought enrages him, and he doesn’t understand why.

“I know it’s at short notice, and it sucks, but my boss wants us to get at it as soon as possible…”

Seeing Taehyung is still talking, you mouth at Jimin ‘work’ so that he knows you’ll hang up as soon as possible. You love your friend, you really do, but can’t he understand that you’re off work right now?

“Okay, sure, see you. Bye—”

The call has barely finished when he grabs your phone to throw it away. When you turn to demand an explanation, a shiver takes over your body. It’s a feeling of dread, one you’re familiar with.

“Don’t go,” he begs, nuzzling your neck. “Stay home with me, please.”

Warm tears wet your neck, his arms tangled around you. You’re unable to move right now, but you’re not fighting his grip off either, too confused; not aware of the storm of screeching thoughts passing by in his mind, mixed with alien feelings that are rooted deep inside of him.

You’re staring down at him dumbfoundedly when Jimin pulls back. There’s an instinct inside of you screaming to get away, but instead, you wipe his tears.

He grabs his head and looks down with his eyes closed. “I’m— I’m sorry, Master. I-I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” he whimpers then, but it doesn’t feel like he’s talking to you when Jimin starts hitting his forehead. “Forget it! Just forget it, forget it, forget it!”

Your chest feels heavy, and your body feels cold, the heat of the moment nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, you get off of him to pull your pants back up, and he does the same, avoiding your eyes. He doesn’t need to know he’s let you down right now.

But this time, though, you feel bad for him; Jimin is sobbing in a way you’ve heard no one cry before. It’s the purest form of self-inflicted pain you’ve seen, and maybe you only remember your own laments to sound like that. When you’d wake up and look in the mirror just to greet the pitiful reflection of a thrown-away doll.

You coo at him as you leave a kiss on his wet lips. “Shh, it’s okay.” Had it been another person, you wouldn’t be feeling this warmth in the pit of your stomach – but you are, and you want to sooth Jimin’s pain. “I know you didn’t mean it. Just don’t do something like this again.”

The main difference is, your Master never apologised. He always thought that, whatever he’d take with his deadly hands, he was entitled to it. The world owed him adoration.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, nodding.

“How about I turn you off while I’m at work?” you ask him then as you rake your nails through his hair.

“Please… I want to rest.”

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you turn Jimin off for the first time. Watching his body shut down is almost like watching him fall asleep, and you smile sweetly at the sight.

He probably won’t get cold, but you cover him with a cosy blanket anyways. And so you walk out of the house, grabbing your purse on your way. A meeting with the creative department doesn’t sound like fun right now, but actually, you could use some work to blow off this weird feeling inside of you.

Because, how on earth does he know those things? You’ve never told anyone that your ex-husband used to be a complete ape with his cock. Not on purpose, you hope, but Jesus Christ, you’d always have to limp your way to the bathroom afterwards.

Also, he’d always make you dry as hell.

And even though he wasn’t loving, nor a good lover, nor sensitive or caring, he had you in the palm of his hand. You can’t recall a more humiliating feeling than remembering you were in love with him.

The meeting goes, well, just as you expected – boring and way too long. Could’ve perfectly been just an email. But the team is happy to see your project go on, and you’re happy too. In fact, it’s done its job so well that you only remember about Jimin’s odd behaviour today the moment you step back into the house.

Jimin is sitting on the couch, right where you left him.

Looking cherubic and beautiful, you stare at his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his nose, and wonder where did your ex-husband get the inspiration to make him.

You lean in for a kiss on his inert lips as your thumb strokes the switch behind his ear. Naturally, his body doesn’t react in any way to your presence, and you let out a chuckle of frustration, finally turning him back on.

His eyes flutter a bit before he looks at you.

“Hi there, angel.”

Jimin smiles softly at you, nuzzling your hand in search of warmth. How sweet he is, he’s nothing like him. Not a bit.

He claims your cuddles with a gentle tug at your hand, and you sit next to him, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. You rake your nails through his hair as you stare into the nothingness, too engrossed in your thoughts.

However, you’re starting to feel weirded out about just how much Jimin knows about you; why would your ex ever tell him about your problems in bed, for example? Judging by his reaction to the call, did he also talk about that time when you flirted with Taehyung perhaps a bit too much, before you confessed you were married and became friends? You don’t think your husband knew about all those things, let alone told Jimin about them.

So, why does he know, then?

What else does he know that you can’t even fathom? Your chest tingles at the prospect of already being bare before him; there are so many things you still feel ashamed of, you don’t want him out of all people to… know.

Besides, you still have no idea why. Actually, you don’t know a thing about Jimin, about his origins, about how or why he was created like this. You had sworn and promised in the past that you had decided to keep him to find out about all of that, and really, you’ve just forgotten about it.

“I just remembered” – you suddenly get up from the couch, and Jimin pouts at the sudden lack of warmth – “I left some sketches in the office. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Will you be back for dinner?” he asks, nonetheless.

“Yes, of course.”

Then you get up to fetch your purse in silence. Once you have everything you need, you wave your hand in goodbye and head to the entrance hall under Jimin’s consuming stare; it’s not watchful, but it really is intense. You feel it burning on your nape.

“Master?” You turn around when he calls you again. “You’re not mad at me about earlier, are you? I don’t know what happened to me, I’m really sorry… I was made to make you happy.”

Made to make you happy, made for loving you. You, you, you. It’s always you with him, like you’re his world. It only makes you frown, but you help the urge and smile instead, wishing it will ease his worries.

“Don’t be, I understand—”

“I’m not like him,” he suddenly says, and you feel cold all over.

“What?” You try to put on a calm face, but what he just said really weirded you out. “W-what do you mean?”

Jimin gets up and walks up to you, gently tugging at your arms. “I’m not like him, I would never be. He was a despicable monster, a-and I know I’m not even human, but— I love you, Master, I love you better than he ever could.” Then he kisses you, and you can’t help kissing him back. “I’ll do better, I promise. I won’t cross you again.”

His words make your stomach churn, but you don’t say anything; you’ve got some heavy work ahead. So, you peck his lips one more time and say goodbye, leaving him standing in the entrance hall all on his own.

It’s luminous, with a sickly white light, just as you remember it. Sterile, made of steel, and eternally silent. Few places give you the creeps like your ex-husband’s lab.

Although the place is not huge, you’re so unfamiliar with it that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with. He surely must have kept a journal of his experiments, right? He was always so keen on writing on paper— but maybe they took it away already.

It’s so weird to think that he’s dead now, though – you always thought him so powerful, so eternal, that death was never in your mind. How could it be when he was the ruler and commander of your life? What would you be without him, you pitiful butterfly? Always his angel, his pretty little thing, his loving wife he was so in love with.

And now he’s dead. Like a pathetic, weak human, he’s dead.

Instead of feeling sad or uneasy about it, it makes you feel good. It feels so, so good to know that he’s rotting somewhere. You hope it hurt.

You move around the room, looking at your surroundings; plans and sketches scattered on tables that no one has bothered to clean, half-made robotic arms, and dozens of inventions displayed on shelves like they’re his prizes.

But contrary to what you expected – or not since you always knew he was a control freak – you find his journals piled up and sorted out by date on one of the shelves at the end. If you remember correctly, Mrs Im said he started working on Jimin five years ago. That is, three and a half years before your divorce, so you look for the notebooks with that year written on them.

“Aha! Gotcha.”

You start revising the first journal, turning the pages as your eyes fly over the letters. Finally, you find the first notes; he mentions a folder with the official project information, but you will look for it later. What you read is more or less what his lawyer told you, the research of android models for sale as sex products.

It feels a little strange to read it on paper, so cold, when Jimin’s presence is so warm.

However, something catches your attention out of a sudden. You read it again to make sure you didn’t misinterpret it, but it’s pretty hard to do it:

The experiments are running smoothly: thanks to my memories, Jimin reacts to basic stimulation, and his sensors work well. Today it hardened only by smelling one of Y/N’s pieces of underwear. It will be a success if I manage to set his arousal on with vaguer objects or smells.

You turn the pages, being met only with shallow comments on the experiment. But you want to see if he mentions you again. What did he mean, ‘his memories’? How could that be possible? And why would he use you out of all people to test Jimin’s… sensors, or whatever he’s talking about?

To check next day: refractory period. Just when I was about to see if Jimin recovers faster when the stimulation is linked to her, she came down to announce her mother had just arrived. I ought to continue the experiment from there.

I hate that old woman; I wish I could get rid of her forever. I know she talks shit about me to Y/N.

Your eyebrow immediately arches at the comment; for years he would cry about how your mother hated him, and it turns out the feeling was mutual. Honestly, at this point, you’re not even surprised.

For the time being, you want to focus on processing the fact that somehow your crazy ex-husband managed to turn his memories into chips, or whatever. You don’t have a clue about these things. To insert them into Jimin and, well, you guess, customise his sexual arousal? Does that even make sense?

Jimin seems to have taken on an odd behaviour lately. It follows Y/N around the house but is aware it must not be seen. It knows of conversations the two of us have had without being present, and even of things not even I knew about; today Y/N showed up with a new mug and thanked me for buying it, but it was not me.

I have also noticed a growing aggressiveness towards me. More verbal than physical, but I am studying the possibility of speeding up the selling.

Suddenly breathless, you limply put the notebook back on the table.

So, it wasn’t him. None of it was, probably. The mug, or the flowers, or those cute notes he’d leave on the fridge wishing you a good day – they had all been Jimin’s. And suddenly you feel so, so fucking relieved.

He had been the problem all along. Not even Jimin, who had his memories, had his wickedness. Jimin was sweet, so he could’ve been too; he just didn’t want to.

And that is all you needed to know.

Then you realise you’ve reached the end of the notebook. You grab the next one, which covers a year and a half and covers your divorce. This is probably the only chance you’ll ever get to know what he was really feeling back then. Or ever, for that matter.

It seems that my memories are a bigger influence on Jimin’s personality than I first thought. It has become obsessed with my wife as if it was in love with her.

I know it was the plan all along, but I cannot help wondering if I have taken it too far.

I have not been fighting to keep her with me so that thing will ruin my chances of staying with her.

You smile fondly as you read it. However, as your eyes reach the last paragraph, you frown with disgust at his words. How could he speak like that of his own creation? Oh, what a heartless man. You cannot help but pity him. A body filled with hatred and fear and pain, he was a good for nothing.

This week I will be conducting no experiments as I ought to see my lawyer.

You quickly turn the page again.

This time, you’re startled as you observe the handwriting; it’s messy, angry, written so strongly that the pen almost ripped the paper. The page underneath is marked, the letters never to be forgotten.

I hate him. I hate him, and I hate her. And I love her. Y/N is mine, Jimin is mine, they are both mine, yet I cannot make them do what I think it’s best.

She fucking left. I would make her such a masterful thing if she’d only let me.

But there’s always that beastly creature stopping me.

Stopping him, how? What did he mean by that?

The next notes don’t feel too interesting; he doesn’t even sound like he’s enjoying himself anymore. The comments are technical, and he noted down some of his thoughts about the companies that had offered to buy Jimin.

But then you realise something.

If he wanted to sell – and it sounded like he was pretty confident about his decision – why would he leave Jimin to you in his will? If he wanted you to stay as far from him as possible.

You’re done with the notebook, so you grab the next one. It seems to be the last one, too; there are no more journals in sight, and it looks like most of the pages of this one have never been touched before. The spine doesn’t look too used either. Maybe he finished the project quickly before he even had the chance to write much?

There’s no way out. Every time, it manages to catch up on me. Wherever I go, it knows. Whatever I do, it knows. It will be standing at the end of the corridor, looking at me, grinning like it knows my darkest secrets. I cannot get out of the house without it knowing, it knows everything. I’m sure it’ll kill me.

If I die, it killed me.

My love, if you ever read this, please know that he is worse than I will ever be. If you’re reading this and I’m gone, know that his hands are dripping with blood, not mine. I know I’m sick, but so are you. We were sick in love, were we not? Loving each other until our souls rotted.

He’s different. He has no soul, no sickness. He doesn’t understand your darkness the way I do.

It makes me full, like an endless cycle. There is no birth without blood, but for him, there was no blood, no guts. He’s as human as I will make him, ripped out from my ribs.

His love is my sickness. Remember it if you ever love him back.

“Master?”

For the first time in a while, you’re terrified to hear his voice.

Turning around, you see Jimin standing at the top of the stairs. You flinch when he takes a step down, so he stops altogether and waits for a reaction, a word, a sound – anything from you, something to let him know you don’t despise him.

“Did you follow me here?” you ask with a frown, too afraid not to be crossed.

“I was worried,” he murmurs. “You left so suddenly you forgot your phone at home… A-and I did think that perhaps you were lying and that you’d be coming here instead.”

And he was right, in a way. But that doesn’t give him the right to follow you. That’s practically stalker behaviour. You’re starting to get the creeps, so Jimin goes all the way down to you and gently takes your hands. You don’t know if you don’t move out of fear or because you’re too comfortable with his touch.

Your voice comes out weakly. “Did you really kill him?”

“Yes,” he says with a smile. “I— I did it for you, Master. He erased my memories, I had to do something. He wanted to take me away from you.”

“So, you killed him,” you repeat, rather to yourself. Nodding slowly, you pull your hands away from his and turn around, needing some air to sort out your thoughts. “Because— because you wanted to stay with me? Why?”

You already know the answer. You don’t believe it yet, you don’t think it possible – but you know what words you’ll hear.

“Because I love you.”

Jimin seems ashamed of it, as he avoids your eyes and decides to stare at the floor instead. Like a boyish love confession on a sunny school day, your delusional body warms up the idea, but he can’t, can he? He can’t love you.

“Jimin,” you call softly, and finally, he looks up from the floor, “when you look at me, do you see me? Me, as a human, as a woman, as a creature? Do you even understand all of that?”

And then he smiles, and your chest blooms. “Yes – and you’re fascinating.”

All those years watching you, sneaking glances of you walking around the house, so close but still so far away. He’d dream of you, dream of you in his arms, him in yours, sharing kisses, pleasuring you the way his Master could not. He’d be careful, he’d be loving, he’d listen to each of your words.

“He gave me this body and all the cables and everything that keeps me moving, but you, Y/N— you gave me a conscience! You made everything make sense! You made me human,” Jimin claims in a whisper.

You can’t help but frown. “But he deleted them. How can you still remember me?”

You’re getting an answer for each of your questions, but somehow, they all seem only to leave you even more confused.

“He didn’t,” Jimin rushes to say, and then he goes on to explain further, seeing your puzzled face, “Not all of them, at least. I didn’t let him. I wanted to be with you, I didn’t want to… forget you.”

“Why?”

“Because after I got to know you through his memories I realised that, if there’s any person on this world that could accept me despite what I am, that was you. I thought you could love me.”

Letting out a sigh – of desperation, tiredness, love, you have no idea – you cup his cheeks and purse your lips. Do you love him? You’re not sure. Your stomach churns and turns at the mere idea of losing him, but can you really love him?

His words echo in your head like poison. His love is my sickness. Remember it if you ever love him back.

But is it, really? Jimin’s love feels soft. It doesn’t feel smothering or drowning. He loves you just the way you want to be loved. You don’t feel owned by him, on the contrary. Actually, you think Jimin loves you despite his husband’s sickness. That must be why he apologised when it took over him this evening at Taehyung’s call.

The sickness shrieked, the love apologised and learned.

“I know they aren’t mine,” he continues, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I know it wasn’t me you fell in love with, whom you slept with, the person you decided to spend the rest of your life with. I know it was him all along, but I—” Jimin nuzzles your neck in a desperate search for your warmth. “I can’t help it! I was made for loving you!”

But instead of answering, you tilt his chin up and kiss him.

“Living— living with the memories,” he continues as you leave pecks on the corner of his lips, “of your touch, of your warmth, your love.” Jimin’s arms tangle around your waist. “Loving you but forced to stay away – it was torture, Master.”

His breath feels warm against you, his hands feel hungry around you. His red LED-lit eyes stare into yours, searching for a sign, any indication of love.

You brush your lips together, softly at first, until his whimper makes you grin and run your tongue over his lip, asking for entrance. You suck his bottom lip into his mouth until he does, tongues rolling over each other in a heated kiss. With your skin burning up, you run your hands through his hair, and Jimin cautiously squeezes your butt when you push him against the counter.

Suddenly, you sink to your knees and begin to fumble with the waistband of his pants.

“So, you have sensors, right?” He nods weakly. “Everywhere.”

“Y-yes, ma’am—”

“And is there any way to alter them? Is it possible to make you last longer, or even make you not last at all?” you ask, still kneeling before him. Again, Jimin nods and closes his eyes. “Then, I want you as sensitive as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

He must have a limit, and you want to find it. Either he runs out of cum, or his sensors give up, or he just fucking short-circuits.

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to get hard between your fingers, smooth rolls of your wrist as you pump him with an affectionate but hungry pace. Letting out a gasp, Jimin grips the edge of the counter for balance; he’s indeed too sensitive not to react to the touch he’s been craving his whole existence.

“So hard,” you purr, “I can’t wait to taste you, Jimin…”

“M-master, please, Master! Oh fuck, oh—” Jimin whimpers in response, gritting his teeth.

His body is shaking when you part your lips and engulf his cock, eyes glued to his pretty face. His knees buckle, and he squeaks in pleasure, you hollow your cheeks to swallow more of him. Meanwhile, your other hand gently plays with his balls.

“That— that f-feels so good, Master,” he rasps. In appreciation, you suck further down onto his cock until there’s a trickle of saliva rolling down your chin. “Shit! God, thank you!”

You somehow manage to grin with his cock between your parted lips. Jimin seems too aroused to process any robotic thought properly, so you move your hands to his ass and knead the flesh, pushing your lips into your mouth. He yelps instantly and follows it with his hips, and then you dip your tongue into his slit; it makes him let out a sob and almost fall to his knees, warning you of his climax, or rather begging you to slow down.

Your darkened lips, wet with saliva, suck again while your tongue presses on his tip. His cock throbs, a salty flavour you think it’s fake precum lingering on it. His hardened length slides in and out of your mouth with sloppy movements.

Jimin lets out a choked sob. “Master!” Filled with guilt, as gently as his trembling body will let him, he puts his hands on your hair. “L-let me cum, I need to— I-I need to come, please—”

Finally, you raise your head to let his length slide out of your mouth, and you catch back your precious breath.

“Sensitive, are we?” you mock him.

There’s time for him only to roll his eyes, out of annoyance or pleasure, before his hips buckle into your mouth one more time. The coiling tension in his sensors pools in the centre of his body, Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, and soon his cock twitches again, heavy on your tongue, warning you of his high.

“Master,” he whimpers. “T-thank you, Master, fuck— shit!”

And Jimin spills himself inside of your mouth, his release salty and more similar to actual cum than you expected. After swallowing, you help him ride out his orgasm using both hands and lips.

He’s still holding his weight on the counter when you speak, “Get on the table and lie down.”

He was probably expecting to eat you out since you pull down your pants once you straddle him, so it does take Jimin by surprise when you align your entrance with his half-hard cock. You hear him mumble something as your hand grips his cum-covered length, fingers playing with his release and making him let out a gasp.

“Are you still sensitive?” Barely able to keep eye contact, Jimin nods weakly. “Good.”

You quickly get rid of both your and his shirt. Once you’re naked against each other, you bend down to finally touch, knead, nib, and kiss wherever you feel like; you’ve had enough of leisurely letting him pleasure you without taking your part.

Your warm lips leave a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. “I’ll ride you again and again… until you either run out of cum or short-circuit.”

“M-mast—!”

Jimin lets out a choked sob when you sink down on his cock, immediately rolling down your hips. A hint of pain takes over you as your walls grip him, stretching around his length, and you moan. It’s been a while since you last had such a nice cock work you open— but then Jimin’s hands grab your waist, and his blissed face takes you completely off guard.

“Fuck, so good, Master, I love— I love you,” he whines.

His eyes move down to his cock disappearing into your body; you feel so warm, so wet, the pressure around him letting him know that you’re stuffed with him too.

You breathe out and thrust down onto him again, setting a desperate, frenetic tempo. “You feel good too, angel, shit—” The sounds of smacking flesh echo across the room, pushing you to ride him faster. “Gonna fuck you until I go mad—”

With your hands splayed across his chest, you use him for leverage to slam your hips together.

“Please, don’t stop!” Jimin begs you then, eyes rolling back. “Oh, coming, M-Master! I’m— I’m close, p-please—!”

You bend down again and nuzzle his neck only to gently bite on his earlobe, making him purr. “So, you want to come inside of me, Jimin? Want to fill your Master up with your cum? Is that—” A groan drowns down your throat when his cock finally finds and pumps into the right spot. “I-is that what you want?”

The heated kiss the two of you share is enough of an answer. You tilt your hips so that your clit rubs against his pubic bone, pushing you closer to your climax.

Body arching against you, Jimin pushes back up against your thrusts erratically. His thighs move up and down to help, the seeming muscles bulging and flexing, and all his system starts to burn, aching to burst. His cock slides into your dripping cunt in a desperate tempo.

Jimin sucks on the skin of your neck before whispering, breathless, “I’m—”

And then you feel it – a tremble, a soft pant, and one last powerful thrust up into you before you groan at the warm feeling of his cum flooding you. Jimin reaches out for your body as he convulses, hugging you tightly before you give in and kiss him. Your hips don’t stop after even helping him ride out his climax, and he looks at you with his brows knitted in confusion. But you smirk, his creamy release leaking from your entrance and leaking down his cock.

“Ugh— hurts, Master,” he whines then. His fingers dig into your waist.

“Told you,” you whisper; “I’ll ride you until I come, no matter how many times I have to make you come.”

Like a man who has accepted his doom, Jimin lets you kiss him again, this time hungrily sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. A groan vibrates in your throat, you can tell you’re close, judging by the way your body is burning up, your swollen clit rubbing against the base of his cock.

It softens partially inside of you, but not for long; maybe it’s because of his sensors – since they’re set to the highest level of sensitivity – that Jimin sucks in a sharp breath when you clench around him.

“I’m close, angel,” you say, almost grunting.

You’re close, can feel your climax teasing you. Heat spreads under your skin, and you have to fight not to crumble on top of him, thighs burning. He stares at your sweat, covering your body, sliding down the valley of your breasts, tapping against the metal surface. You enjoy how Jimin responds to your touch when you stroke down his chest and realise he’s close too.

Slowly, you raise your hips and snap them onto his cock again, eyes never leaving his beautiful red LED-lit irises.

“Cum with me, will you?”

You’re so full of his cum already, you’re sure it’ll leak out for hours. But your lips find each other in the sickly whitish light blinking over you, and it’s so comforting that you can’t help the tension snapping in the pit of your stomach with a deep moan muffled against his lips.

“Shit, shit, baby—! Oh, fuck, so good, so good,” you chant, now rutting your hips faster.

You dissolve into pleasure with his arms around you, grounding you to him. Walls fluttering around his cock, the shockwaves grip your body like a fit of hysterical lust, pushing you to fuck him faster, harder, balls swinging against your cheeks until Jimin lets out a trembling sob; then he empties himself inside of your tight walls, and you relentlessly fuck him through his orgasm, slower by the minute.

Jimin watches your breasts as they heave up and down in an attempt to catch your breath. Meanwhile, his system slows down, now trying to run smoothly.

You smile when his thumbs stroke your waist in circles. “What?”

“I still…” His smile falters, now totally back on earth. “I still don’t know if you want to keep me, Master.”

“You’ll have to stop calling me ‘Master’ eventually, you know,” you say and ignore his pleading question. Caressing his cheeks feel way more interesting right now.

“Why?”

“Well” – you sit up on his lap, making some of his release leak out and drip down your inner thighs – “I’m sure people will start making questions, don’t you think? I believe you should stick to it only at home, when we’re alone— or even better, only in the bedroom.”

It takes him a second to realise you’re taking him. With this, you’re claiming him, you didn’t even doubt it for a second.

Jimin is yours, forever, however long that lasts.

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