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chryblossomjjk · 2 years

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practice | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | college au, fwb, smut

⇢ WC: 8.1k

⇢ WARNINGS: mentions of bad sexual experiences, nickname you guys might find cringey (sorry babes), praise, a little degradation, a little manhandling, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, very brief mentions of anal play, brief mentions of sex toys and masturbation, spitting, titty sucking, protected sex (hes a hoe but not a dummy), jk is kinda a himbo (scratch that last side note), jk running through twice members lmao sorry girlies, pining, maybe unrequited love, maybe not, ill let u decide, oc is in denial in the beginning, oc has that lemon water coochie!!, daddy kink + daddy kink slander (not seriously!), slight corruption kink

⇢ SUMMARY: you usually spend friday nights on your own. tonight, however, your friend and campus fuckboy, jungkook, decides to pay you a visit.

⇢ NOTES: hi friends!! i’m back with my second fic!! i posted this last night but miss ting had a bad case of the typos rip. so I had it beta'd by @kookstempo pls go give her love >:((( ! i found the smut a little easier to write this time. still not that good lol but not as mentally taxing! oc is totally definitely not a little bit of a projection of me haha thisficwassexuallycathartictowrite i hope you guys like it! i would love to know your thoughts! also would be v cool if you checked out my masterlist. love u bye!!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s 10 p.m. on a Friday.

The night of the week that lures college students out of their suffocating dorm rooms with the promise of parties and alcohol. After days of classes, hours of studying, and minutes of sleep, most people your age spend their weekends unwinding, hopping from frat house to frat house.

One of the many perks of living on campus is the social life. Being surrounded by young adults is exciting. It also means that everyone is horny. Ravenously so. Seriously. Anything with a hole or phallic-shaped appendage is a prime candidate for getting fucked.

Anything and everyone, except you.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t get fucked, per se. Although abundant, your options were limited. Given the environment, it was difficult to find a guy you actually felt comfortable with. He didn’t have to be in love with you, but he did have to respect you if he wanted to get anywhere near your sugar walls. With that being said, it was slim pickings.

You coped well, for the most part. But it was hard to shake the lonely feelings that bubbled in your chest from time to time. And the feral ones. Nothing a quick rub from your petite, manicured fingers couldn’t satisfy, you suppose…

Besides, all men do is disappoint you. The only two sexual partners you’ve had thus far were subpar, to say the least. Greedy. Disgusting. Selfish. Not an ounce of concern for your pleasure. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you’ve never orgasmed from sex. Not even close. That left a sour, lemony taste in your mouth. Ever since then, your pussy was on hiatus, locked away in the highest room of the tallest tower, until a worthy knight came to save it from this tortuous dry spell.

You sigh, peeling the honey-drenched sheet mask off your face and tossing it into the trash with vigor. You eye yourself in the mirror with a scowl. Fluffy, freshly plucked brows knit together as you examine your appearance. You’re wearing a cropped white tank top, nipples poking through the little animated cherubs printed on the front. The baby pink Sailor Moon pajama shorts on your thighs left little to the imagination. White kitty ears headband keeping those annoying baby hairs out of your face.

You’re cute, right?

Atleast you tried to look cute.

Your roommate, Mina, was visiting family for the weekend, leaving you the dorm to yourself. Without your extraverted lifeline, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to stay in and pamper yourself.

You’ve already waxed your body, head to toe, with that expensive sugaring wax Mina begged you not to get. ‘It was worth it,’ you thought to yourself when you had spread your peach-scented lotion on the smooth canvas of your legs after the shower.

You even gave yourself a facial. Extractions and all. Much cooler and more productive than partying and getting laid.

You take your headband off, ruffling your thick hair until it falls into place. You reach for your candy-flavored Laneige lip mask, spreading it across your plump pout with your middle finger. Another overpriced purchase.

You exit the bathroom, shuffling towards your twin-sized bed and then falling face first into the plush, ivory duvet. So comfy. It wasn’t even midnight and you were ready to hit the hay.

You had planned to study a bit before knocking out, but the warm shower left you sleepy. Plus, the past week has been hell. Two papers and an impromptu quiz from your least favorite professor. You were a good student. A great one, even. But you were an overachiever to the core, and still found yourself stressing over assignments you knew you aced.

You let out a small yawn, squinting at the brightness around you. Along the wall beside your bed were vine garlands, embellished with little fairy lights and pink roses. They were such a pain in the ass to put up. It took you and Mina nearly three hours, and a mental breakdown on your behalf, to stick them against the drywall in the right position. High maintenance, but cute, nonetheless. Kinda like you.

The lights dim as your mind turns hazy, eventually turning into a silent black as sleep clouds your vision. Sweet, blissful sleep. You were teetering into the REM phase when-

Knock. Knock.

The booming noise startles you awake, rattling the brittle wood of your cheaply built door. The wall hangings flutter in its wake.

Maybe you were being dramatic. The knocks were actually soft and melodic. Almost cheerful as they followed the rhythm of a made-up song. But you were pissed. Even the most heavenly sound would ring demonic and evil in your ears at the moment.

You shove yourself off of your bed with an exaggerated groan, stomping towards the door and yanking it open, fully prepared to yell at whoever was behind it.

Jeon Jungkook.

His expression is blank, doe-eyes widening as he takes in your expression. Your body language radiates hostility and violence. The silver barbell glimmers as his thick, dark brows twitch in confusion. He blinks before opening his mouth. “Hey,” he utters hastily.

Under different circumstances, you would be ecstatic.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jungkook?”

“Woah, someone’s cranky,” he laughs hesitantly. “I was bored. Figured you were, too. Mina is gone, right?”

“Are you drunk or something?”

“What- no,” his plump lips form a pout, the matching silver ring on the bottom corner shining as well.

You sneer at him, pupils darting over his outfit. Oversized gray hoodie, white t-shirt peeking from the unzipped portion at the top. Gray sweatpants. Your gaze lingers on the tight pull of the material in the front. He doesn’t seem drunk, and he isn’t dressed in his usual party attire.

“I just want to hang out with you. Why are you acting so sus?”

You roll your eyes, doing everything in your power to exaggerate your irritation. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, come on, Bambi. Don’t be like that.”

Bambi.

That stupid nickname.

You and Jungkook had met at a party after you were peer pressured into a game of beer pong. The super boisterous, super attractive stranger ended up being your partner by default.

"What do you mean you’ve never played before?" He questioned you, voice laced with devastation when he realized you were about to cost him his undefeated streak.

Despite Jungkook’s best efforts, Mina and her boyfriend, Taehyung, mopped the floor with you.

"You know what, I like you. You’re a little bitchy but-,” he slurred at the end of the night, helping you gather the discarded solo cups, "Also innocent. Kinda like a baby deer. What the fuck was that movie?"

You answered him curtly with a scowl.

"Bambi! Right… I can’t wait to ruin you." He was so wasted that night he ended up vomiting off of the second-floor balcony and onto the class president’s Honda Civic. Not drunk enough to forget the awfully humiliating, yet adorable nickname he had bestowed you.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you in.”

“I have pancakes,” he beams with pride, bunny teeth peeking out. He raises both arms, showing you the crinkled takeout bags in his hands. “Chocolate chip-”

“That’s disgusting,” you scoff.

“And blueberry,” he retorts with a squint. “Please? I won’t be annoying, I promise.”

You let out a contemplative noise. It wasn’t what you had planned for the night, but you guess company wouldn’t hurt. Especially his company.

If only you could mute your evil brain.

“I thought you had plans with whatsherface,” you question, stepping aside to let Jungkook enter your room.

He kicks his slides off at the door, something you’ve drilled into his head with violent words and empty threats. You remember him texting the groupchat a screenshot of his calendar, tonight being marked ‘PUSSY APPOINTMENT’ with the woozy face emoji next to it. The same one that was inked on his middle finger; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Tonight was one of many slots in his month with the exact same title. That picture was deleted from your phone as soon as you received it.

“Sana,” he corrects, face unimpressed like he expected you to keep a mental catalog of all his flavors of the week.

You did. Every time a new name was added to the roster, your heart sank. You would never admit it though.

“I did, but I guess she has a boyfriend now or some shit?” He plops down onto the baby pink area rug beside your bed, immediately digging through the takeout bags.

“How dare she?” You gasp sarcastically, taking the styrofoam container that he held up for you and sitting criss-cross on your bed.

“I know, right? That’s what I’m saying,” he laughs, opening a syrup packet and pouring it over his pancakes.

You cringe, foreseeing a sticky, impossible to clean mess all over your floor. “Please don’t fuck up my rug, Jungkook.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles halfheartedly, bringing the pad of his thumb to his mouth. The tip of his tongue pokes out to kitten lick at the sugary liquid before wrapping his plump, pink lips around it.

He sucks gently and then pulls off with a tiny smooch.

Wow.

Are you really that far gone? There was no denying that Jungkook was attractive. But were you really that touch starved that you were drooling over every minuscule, minute movement he made?

“Maybe she was sick of you stringing her along,” you comment, trying to cover up the fact that you were totally just gawking at him.

“Nah,” he murmurs through chubby cheeks, mouth full of pancake. “She knew it was just sex.”

“Did she though? What about Dahyun?”

“Well aware.”

“Jihyo?”

“Yep.”

“Nayeon?”

“Are you slut-shaming me?” He points his plastic fork at you, bringing the opposite hand to his chest in feigned offense. “Because I feel very attacked right now.”

You playfully nudge his shoulder with your thigh-high sock-clad foot, deciding to drop the subject. To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. Jungkook had a reputation on campus. Every girl who involved themselves with him knew what the outcome would be. He was very blunt about his desires and disinterests. Sex being the prior. Commitment being the latter.

But you suppose remaining detached was easier said than done. Something about him was… magnetic. He was bold, yet soft. Obnoxious, but endearing. A sweet talker for sure. And easily the freest person you’ve ever known. Add sex into the equation, and it must be nearly impossible not to fall in love with him…

Hm. That’s enough thinking for the night.

You need background noise to keep intrusive thoughts at bay. He peeps an ‘I don’t care’ when you ask him what he wants to watch. You take it upon yourself. Sailor Moon it is.

The pancakes keep him preoccupied for a while. You glance down at him every now and then. His eyes sparkle as he watches the cartoon on your phone screen. There’s a little speck of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. His tongue makes an encore appearance, licking it away before fidgeting with his lip. How sinful.

He starts getting squirmy about halfway through the episode. Antsy hands pull at the strings on the border of the carpet below him. Every now and then he draws a shape and erases it. One of the shapes is a penis, something you’d see on the back of a middle school textbook.

He scoots with a sigh, pressing his spine against the edge of your bed, and then bending his head back. Fluffy dark strands tickle your legs as he peers up at you. “Can you play with my hair?”

“Why would I do that?” You huff, hot and bothered by the sudden contact.

“It helps me stay still. Please?”

“Oh, um- okay,” you oblige, gulping like you’ve dry swallowed a huge pill. You cautiously card your digits through his hair. It’s so soft and healthy.

He purrs and closes his eyes.

He's silent once again, enjoying your touch, even pushing into it a bit. Very cat-like.

That lasts for about three minutes. His inability to not speak every single thought that enters the void of his mind takes over.

‘I just realized they’re all named after planets.’

‘Wait, the moon isn’t a planet, is it?’

‘Why are they dressed so sexy to fight space monsters?’

“Jungkook, shut up!”

“But I’m bored,” he whines. “Is this really how you spend your Friday nights?”

“Excuse me, I’d like to see you take STEM classes for a week and then tell me how you feel,” you contend, leaning over to grab your phone off the nightstand. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your nipples. It makes your palms clammy. “Sometimes, it’s nice to just chill.”

“You don’t masturbate?” He asks calmly as if he had just inquired about the weather.

You give him an exasperated look.

“What? That’s how I destress,” he continues, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I- no! Why are you asking all these questions?” You shriek, absolutely mortified.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He lifts his head off of your lap, craning his neck so you can see his appalled expression, your answer leaving him equally as mortified. “Damn, that’s wild,” he tuts in disapproval.

“I would rather not have to smuggle a sex toy into my dorm room, Jungkook,” you retort.

“You can borrow mine,” he smirks, turning his body to face you, obviously relishing in the reactions he’s pulling out of you. “It’s a Hitachi. It’s really strong too, like, most girls don’t even last five minutes.”

“Why do you have- you know what, nevermind actually!” You clench your eyes shut, poking your fingers into your ears and shaking your head dramatically. Your reaction is mostly out of embarrassment and partly because the thought of him pleasing women who aren’t you hurts for whatever reason. “I’m done with this discussion!”

“Seriously?” He wheezes, thoroughly enjoying your tantrum. He wraps his long, nimble fingers around your wrists, pulling your hands away. Your skin burns under the touch. “I want to get to know you more.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to know-,” you rip out of his grasp, flailing your hands around in circular motions, “-those things.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he frowns.

“About?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, um...” you look around the room nervously, searching for the right thing to say. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Black. What’s your favorite position?”

“Jungkook!”

“I think missionary is my favorite. Very underrated,” he says, tapping his chin like it’s an answer only an intellectual would’ve given. “The kind where her legs are pushed alllll the way back,” he emphasizes the ‘all’ by balling his hands into fists and lifting them up by his head, showing you exactly where he likes them. “You hit the g-spot perfectly that way.”

You level him with a scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Unamusement written all over.

“Why are you so mad?” He laughs. “What? You’re embarrassed to talk about sex?”

A pause.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Jungkook, no…” you sigh, rubbing your temples in frustration. “I’m just not like you, okay? I don’t like sex as much as you and everybody else on this fucking campus does!”

He hesitates for a moment as he processes your sudden outburst. The first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. You can picture the cogs turning in that thick skull of his.

He inhales sharply, eyebrows raising up to his hairline as if something clicked. His tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek, cute dimple peeping out from the pull. His head drops as he huffs out a laugh.

“What’s so funny, Jeon?”

“Ah, I see now.”

“See what?” You groan, bothered by his vagueness.

“Here's what I think, Bambi,” he mumbles in a low tone, sitting up from his spot on the floor so his gaze is aligned with yours. His palms are on either of your crossed legs, fingers curling into your white blanket. Forcing you to make eye contact with him- his pupils are black, nothing like the soft brown you’re accustomed to. “You’re so uptight because you haven’t had sex in a while- good sex, at least.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You say nothing.

“The guys you fuck don’t know how to treat you, am I right? They can’t make you cum?”

Crickets.

Your lack of response tells him the answer.

When you do speak, your words come out shaky. “Well, what makes you any different?”

He shuffles closer, knocking his forehead right against yours, invading your space. He’s so close that you feel claustrophobic. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“I always make the girl cum.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hums through curled lips as he nods, silver hoops swaying at the motion, nose brushing against yours. “More than once.”

His dilated pupils scan over your body, pausing at your chest for a moment, and then continuing their descent. A hand slides up your bare thigh, the warm touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. He grabs the hem of your shorts between his index and middle fingers, tugging gently. “These are cute.” He licks his lips, making them pink and glossy, like he’s ready to eat you. “I’d like them better somewhere else though.”

“Jungkook…”

And then he's kissing you.

It’s soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away by putting too much pressure into it. Little does he know you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

All your protesting and fighting up until this point was futile. Your hands unconsciously make their way to his cheeks. You swear you feel him smirking. It’s like he can read your mind, knowing exactly how bad you’ve wanted this.

He prods his tongue against your bottom lip, urging you to let him in. You do. He wraps an arm around your waist and guides you down, hovering over you.

“You taste like candy,” he whispers against your lips, hot and needy. Take that, Mina. A sneaky hand cups you through your shorts, right where he knows your clit is. The thin material does nothing to conceal how wet you are. “Do you taste like candy here too? Can I try?”

You’re anxious, but you can’t stop. Not when he’s so enticing. Not when the rumors of his sexual prowess are swimming around in your mind. Jungkook could ask anything of you and you’d gladly obey. You give him a small nod.

“Don’t be nervous,” he teases through an airy laugh, breath fanning across your face. It smells like chocolate and syrup. He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss on your fingertips. You swoon.

Hooking his thumbs into the sides of your shorts, he pulls them below your butt. He dips his head down, biting into the side of your thigh. A predator sinking its teeth into its prey. Not hard enough to hurt. It’s just enough to rip a whine from you. “Fuck,” he grumbles, pulling your shorts completely off. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

He’s been wanting this, too?

“Let’s leave these on though,” he sighs, speaking in reference to your socks. It was something you knew he found sexy, overhearing a graphic conversation with Taehyung about kinks and other filthy things. That may or may not have been the motivation behind your purchase.

You cringe. Being naked in front of someone for the first time in a long time was nerve-wracking.

“No panties?” Jungkook asks, looking at you quizzically. “Dressed so skimpy, Bambi. All for me?”

“I didn’t know you were gonna show up...”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” he chuckles, caressing your legs with his large thumbs. You appreciate the gesture.

Cool air brushes against your exposed core when he parts your thighs. His gaze locks onto your dripping center. You whine and cross your arms over your face. Maybe if you squeeze hard enough you’ll revert back into yourself and escape this dreadfully vulnerable feeling.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” he starts, words dying out because his attention is elsewhere. Jungkook has seen a lot of pussy throughout his life, but yours has got to be the, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. So fucking wet.” He settles back onto his knees, hooking his limbs around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

Jungkook watches in awe as he spreads your lips open with his thumb and index fingers, stealing a peek at your shiny center. He takes a long, languid lick from your pussy to your clit. He moans when the wet muscle dips between your folds, eyes scrunching as his feature contorts into a scowl. You recognize that face. That angry face he makes when he tastes something he finds incredibly yummy. It’s the same one he made when he ate his pancakes.

Have you really studied him so much that you’ve picked up on his subtle habits? Nevertheless, the fact that he actually seemed to be enjoying going down on you was jarring. You’ve never experienced this before. It felt so fucking good. You were already close and he has barely touched you. You let out a whimper.

“Mm, you’re so responsive,” he notes, absolutely loving the little sounds you’re peeping. Much different than the blaring moans and screams he is used to. Despite the ego boost they give him, your shy whimpers are a welcomed change. Each one makes his cock twitch, forcing him to bring a hand down, palming himself through his sweats. “When’s the last time someone ate you out?”

“Never…”

“I don’t see why not,” he coos sympathetically, shaking his head in disapproval. He gives you another lick, tongue pressed flat against you. “You taste like lemonade, so sweet.”

That had you absolutely drenched.

You move up onto your elbows, watching as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders. He licks the pad of his thumb, this time actually sinful. He presses it right to your bud, rubbing it before pulling the sensitive skin taut, lifting the hood and exposing your clit.

He tuts his tongue, whispering something so quietly you barely catch it, only making out a breathy iteration of the word ‘tiny’. Heavy eyes flicker up to yours as he places two soft pecks on it, then blows delicately.

“Jungkook, please…”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, “I won’t tease-,” sentiment interrupted with an open-mouthed kiss, “I know how bad you must want it.”

He circles the tip of his tongue on your clit before suctioning his lips around it. You gnaw onto your lower lip, face twisting up in pleasure.

This is easily a far better form of self care than what you had planned.

It’s obvious that this is something Jungkook does a lot. He is a photography major, and has never struck you as someone who is incredibly bright, but the way he touched is strategic. He has spent the better part of the past decade perfecting his craft, studying the way women move their bodies when he applies a certain amount of pressure. The beautiful noises they make when he stimulates them in certain spots. He has the exact equation to make you fall apart.

There is a pattern to it. He latches onto your swollen nub, cheeks hollowing with a few harsh sucks, before licking over it, letting his tongue dip into your entrance. You can’t help the subtle thrusts into his mouth with every glide of his tongue. The consistency had your stomach doing somersaults.

He sinks further down, lapping at your folds, never straying too far from your clit, burying himself so deep into your pussy that the tip of his nose nudges against it. A big palm slides up your torso, reaching under your tank top to grab at your chest, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.

“Jung- fuck!” You croak, high-pitched and desperate. “I’m close.”

You expect him to pull away. He, instead, acknowledges you with an ‘mhm’, nuzzling even further into your cunt.

You can’t help the instinctual, or more so learned, shame bubbling in your stomach. Your hips jerk away. Legs close tight around his head, attempting to save him from the brunt of your orgasm. He simply pries them back open, nails digging into your inner thigh. You grasp onto his hair, tugging it back as you curse under your breath.

He doesn’t like that.

He pops off of your clit with a sharp, annoyed growl. “Can you stop?” The stern edge in his voice makes you flinch, releasing your grip immediately. “You don’t have to control every situation. Just relax.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeak.

His gaze softens immediately. He didn’t want you to apologize and he definitely didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. “You can touch me, Bambi,” he grabs your hands and places them back on his head, encouraging them to tangle in his tresses once again. “Keep me here, though. Wanna make you cum in my mouth.”

It’s strange, being pampered during sex. Taken care of.

You peer down at him. His mouth and cheeks are dewy, covered in your arousal. Even the tip of his nose is wet. He’s not uncomfortable in the slightest.

You push him down, giving him the green light to continue. The descent is quick. Starting in your stomach before it shoots through the rest of your body. You throw your head back, teeth digging into your lip as you desperately try to stifle the lewd moans threatening to escape.

Jungkook guides you through it, slowing down towards the tail end of your orgasm. He pulls away with a satisfied hum, standing up from his spot on the floor. “Taste?” He asks, squishing your cheeks with his big hand. His tongue licks right against yours when you stick it out, lips closing into a sloppy kiss. “Good, right?”

You don’t really taste anything, but you nod anyway. Maybe a slight hint of citrus. Or maybe you were delirious after the best orgasm of your life. The only partnered orgasm of your life.

His eyes are scrunched, but you can still see the stars in his dark pupils as he smiles down at you. You mirror him with the opposite expression, irises wide and blown out. He giggles, nuzzling into the side of your face and then nipping at your cheek. “You’re like a space girl,” your heart melts at the Sailor Moon reference. “So clueless. I wanna do everything to you. Teach you everything.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever squirted before?”

You freeze. “No… I don’t think everyone can.”

“That’s not true. Everyone can squirt with a good partner and the right mindset,” he proclaims enthusiastically, shooting you a thumbs up. The tent in his pants on full display.

“Right mindset?” You giggle, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty intense.” He grabs a half-empty water bottle, your water bottle, off the nightstand, taking a big sip. “I can get you there,” he states, a droplet of water dripping down his chin. “You have to listen to me, though. You can continue your ‘girlboss’ bullshit after I’m done with you.”

You roll your eyes. If any other man said that to you, you would be livid. You would literally rain hellfire upon them. But it’s Jungkook. You know he’s joking, and the soft spot you have for him prevents you from ripping him a new one.

He smiles when you agree, pecking your cheek before unzipping his hoodie and shrugging it off his shoulders. You watch his muscles work. Toned, firm biceps exposed for your viewing pleasures. He recently recolored the tattoos on his right arm.

You remember him venting about his parents’ disapproval of them, and his major, when he walked you to your dorm after a party a few weeks ago. It was the only time you’ve ever seen the fun-loving, jovial man feel melancholic. You coin that night the night you developed... whatever it was that you have for him now.

“Alright,” he gestures to the cotton sweater, now spread out on your bed. “Lay here.”

“Why?”

“I mean…” he looks at you like you’re stupid. “You don’t want to get this wet, right?” He counters, pinching your blanket.

Cockiness just oozes out of him. It makes wetness ooze out of you.

You comply, laying down on the soft material. It’s warm and smells like the delicate linen cologne he normally wears. You bask in the scent.

“I usually use lube for this, but…” he clicks his tongue, knowing you don’t have any. “We can make it work.” Leaning down, he lets a string of spit land on your clit. It tickles as it trickles down your folds. He’s quick to collect it with his fingertips, smearing the moisture all over.

“Take your top off, please. I wanna see those pretty tits.”

It’s barely a top. The jagged, raw hem only conceals half of your perked nipples. How ironic is it that you’re wearing an angel print tank while being absolutely defiled. You sit up, taking it off easily and tossing it on the floor before laying back down.

“It’s not going to hurt, is it?” You wonder, reflecting on his earlier statements.

“Why, you nervous?” He teases with a lopsided grin. It drops when he sees the apprehensive look on your face. “It shouldn’t hurt, but if it does you’ll tell me, right?”

“Right,” you moan, another drop of saliva hitting your pussy.

“Hold your legs up, keep them open,” he orders, sucking back the extra spit with a hiss.

Pink nails curl under your thighs, bringing them up to your chest just as Jungkook instructed. He pops his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, bringing them down to tease at your entrance before slipping in, palm facing up.

There’s an adjustment period, his fingers being much bigger than your own. You’re so aroused that the tenderness subsides quickly. “Fuck,” you yelp when he starts gently petting at your g-spot.

He doesn’t jam his fingers into you carelessly, an unpleasant sensation you’ve been subjected to in the past. His digits never leave you. Instead, they move in a sensual curl that makes you purr. Every touch is focused, intricately placed on that delicious spot.

“Pussy so wet,” his voice comes out as strained as his pants. He sounds so turned on and filled with lust. It makes you clamp around his fingers. He lets out the tiniest moan, using his free hand to grab yours, sucking three fingers into his mouth. “Touch your clit for me.”

You bring your hand down, rubbing side to side. “Uh-uh, circles.”

Immediately, you follow his command. You look so delicious he can’t help himself, bending at the waist to latch onto one of your nipples.

“Please, Jungkook, more…”

“Yeah?” He mumbles against your chest, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin. You nod frantically. “I usually don’t give in this easily, but I think you deserve it. Been such a good girl. You can have more, Bambi.” You know it’s just sex talk. A stream of consciousness fueled by his horniness. All the blood leaving his head to fill his cock, making him more dumb than usual, but you can’t help but feel special.

“It’s going to build up fast, okay?”

You mumble a small ‘mhm’. How bad can it really be?

Jungkook starts moving his hand rapidly, fingers thrashing up and down. There's so much force behind his movements that your hips lift and dip.

You’re overwhelmed. Constant, vigorous stimulation right to your g-spot. A strange swelling feeling starts pooling in your lower stomach. High-pitched whimpery moans and wet squelching noises fill the room.

“J- daddy, fuck!” It is so intense you can’t form a coherent sentence. There’s faint laughter in the background. “No, no, no…” you plead, wrapping your hand around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. It’s too good. So good that it made you scared.

His movements halt. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, too much… fuck!” You shout when he continues at the same intensity, your body thrashing wildly. You feel out of control.

“Shh,” he whispers softly. “You can take it. Just let it happen.”

You inhale sharply, doing your best to calm down. It’s difficult when he keeps touching you like that. Your fingers curl into his sweater, bracing yourself. As soon as you stop fighting that full feeling, as soon as you loosen the tense muscles, it’s going to hit you.

You relax and a wave of the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt ripples over you.

There’s an intense, world-shattering, euphoric release.

And then nothing.

Your head is empty. Your ears ring. Your vision is distorted by white splotches.

Complete solace.

Your senses come back after a few minutes of heavy breathing. It’s fuzzy, but you can see the ceiling fan swirling above you.

There’s a metallic taste on your tongue.

You can feel droplets trickling down your inner thighs, a damp puddle under your butt, and a warm set of lips on your temple.

“Welcome back to planet Earth,” Jungkook jokes, pushing away the wispy flyaways that stick to your forehead. You blink absently as you slowly make out his features. You swear there’s a glowing aura around him. “You good?”

“So good,” you confirm halfheartedly. “You’re so good.”

“You came so much,” he hums in satisfaction, placing a few pecks against your jaw. Jungkook was actually surprised at how much wetness he coaxed out of you. You just kept on cumming. The prettiest waterfall he’s ever seen. Damp fingers brush up and down your bicep, a comforting gesture. “You called me daddy.”

“Shut up,” you groan, covering your face. “Don’t talk about it.”

“I won’t, it was fucking gross,” he laughs, smiling down at you so genuinely that it reaches his eyes. This was just a hookup, you assume, but he’s just so pretty. You can’t stop yourself from pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He reciprocates. It feels so intimate. Too intimate for a pair of friends. You’re so tired but you want more. Everything.

“Take this off, please,” you ball the white fabric of his shirt into your tiny fists, mimicking his words from earlier. “Let me see those pretty tits.”

He quirks a brow at you, standing up straight and pulling his shirt off by the collar. It’s discarded onto the floor, with all the other useless, bothersome items.

His tits are pretty. Chest flushed red from exertion, nipples spiked and tiny. His body is fit, but not overly muscular. Lean and toned. Just what you like.

You snake your legs around his cinched waist, constricting his pelvis flush against yours.

“Is it my turn now?” He says, loving your sudden burst of confidence. His jaw goes slack when you start grinding on his clothed cock. There’s a slick spot where your bodies meet, heather gray turning dark as the fabric dampens. Jungkook lets you play with him for a bit, rutting against you until he physically cannot stand it anymore. “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad.”

“Then do it,” you whimper, growing impatient. He sighs, hand coming down to fiddle with the sweater underneath you. You crane your neck, watching curiously as he pulls a square packet out of the pocket.

There’s a sharp pain in your chest when you see it. “Did you plan on us hooking up?”

“Maybe,” he contends playfully. All the amusement in his face disappears when he flicks his bangs back and sees yours. Hurt and disappointed. “I always keep condoms on me, you know that,” he explains, voice soft and wary.

It makes sense. He was sexually active. Very much so.

That scares you. You could possibly be just another girl he’s sexually active with. A last ditch effort to get laid because the first option bailed. The puzzle pieces start coming together.

You look him in the eyes. His pupils are brown again. They look pleading, concerned for your wellbeing. Afraid they’ve tarnished something so delicate. You can’t tell if it’s just your delusions, post-orgasm bliss. All you know is you never want him to stop looking at you the way he is right now.

“Can I put it on?” You ask, pointing at the condom in his hand, desperate to break the tension.

“I- sure,” he retorts, exhaling deeply like he was holding his breath, relieved. He gives it to you, using his other hand to pull his pants by the waistband, stopping mid-thigh. Too rushed and eager to take them off completely.

He didn’t have underwear on either.

You squint, trying to read the white font on the packet. Large.

You glance up, eyes bulging out of your skull when they land on his cock. It’s big. So aroused that it points straight up, resting on his abdomen. The tip is bright pink, standing out against the background of his smooth milky pelvis. It’s shiny with precum, a little bead sitting right at the slight. Your gaze trails up the veiny underside, following the acute upward curve. You gulp.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, jittery hands tearing open the foil packet. You cautiously wrap your hand around the shaft. It’s so firm. Rock solid and touch starved. It jumps in your palm as you slip the sticky rubber down, making sure to stroke him along the way. “Big, thas’ all.”

He nods, the corner of his lips pulling up in a smirk. He can tell your words are equally as worried as they are complimentative, though. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises, holding on to your ankle to lift your leg, kissing it through your white sock. Gaze locked on you, making sure you’re watching and that you know he can be soft with you.

He bends both of your knees up to your chest, tapping your outer thigh, indicating he wants you to hold them again. Tattooed knuckles wrap around the base of his cock, laying it flat against your pelvis. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath when he sees the tip reaches just below your belly button, knowing exactly what to envision when he’s inside you. His cock so deep it’s in your stomach.

He smacks the shaft between your folds. Filthy, wet slapping noises overpower your coos and purrs. The tip tickles your entrance, rubbing up and down your folds, before he brings it to your abused clit again, flicking it up and down like a light switch. Watching your face intently to gauge your reaction, looking for any prick of discomfort.

“Put it in,” you frown, growing impatient.

“So needy,” Jungkook teases, gripping his cock right under the crown and pushing in. Only the tip. He uses his fingers as a buffer, trying not to give too much too fast. Pulling back agonizingly slow and then diving back in, giving you a little bit more length this time. It was only an inch or so, but the stretch burned. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill.

He repeats this process, working you open little by little until he’s buried to the hilt. He lets out a pained grunt, overwhelmed by the way your warm wet walls just suffocate him. “Fuck, tightest pussy ever.”

You clench your eyes shut, trying to ease the feeling of getting impaled. Jungkook is so big. The veins that run along his shaft, the thickness, the curve. He leans down and pecks your nose sweetly. His thumb, rubbing tight circles against your clit, provides a decent distraction. You focus on the pleasure instead of the pain.

“Feel okay, Bambi?” He coos, feeling you relax under him. “Can I move?”

With furrowed brows, he pulls out a few inches before thrusting back in slowly. Heavy eyes glued on the way your lips petal around him when he gives you more. The way they resist when takes his cock away. “Good girl,” he praises, voice raspy as he tries his best to maintain a slow, shallow pace. “You take it so well.”

Any pang of discomfort is gone. He prepped you so well that there’s no friction, just seamless glides in and out of your leaking cunt. The upturned tip of his cock tickles that sweet spot in you. You moan, digging your almond-shaped nails into your thighs, arching your back for more.

Jungkook sees your body language. He knows what to do in this situation. One of the most useful sex tips he’s ever learned. He leans forward, pressing his chest against yours, swollen lips latching onto your neck. They suck a sore spot that his tongue quickly soothes over. “Hold on to me,” he commands, wet pout smushed to your skin.

You let go of your thighs, leaving little crescent indents on the surface, and throw your arms around his shoulders. Hooking your knees into the bend of his elbows, Jungkook hoists you up effortlessly, supporting your weight with his large palms on your ass. The change in position spreads you even further, slides him in even deeper.

“Mmm, f-,” you moan, words cut short when he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mmm, I knew it,” he chuckles sadistically, right into your ear. “I knew you were just waiting to be ruined. So fucking high-strung and- fuck!” He can feel your arousal dripping down to his balls. “Controlling.”

Arguing is pointless. You swear he's in your head, the tip of his cock scrambling your brain around so that you can’t even think straight. All you can think about is him.

You cling to him, resting your cheek against his shoulder as he lifts you in the air. Letting him have his way with you. You’re never felt more alive.

‘Orgasms are the pinnacle of the human experience,’ you recall Jungkook telling you one day at the library. At the time, you rolled your eyes. Now, you know exactly what he meant.

“You just needed some dick, huh? My dick?” You nod, drooling against his skin. “Doesn’t it feel good to let go?” All you can get out is a little moan.

A glint flickers in the corner of your eye. Mina’s mirror. It’s leaning against the wall right in front of you. You can see the expanse of his back. The taut skin on his shoulder blades. Biceps bulging as he moves you. His pants slid down to his knees, so you can see his cute butt dimpling when he thrusts up. Muscles working to make you cum.

“Okay,” he huffs, more to himself than you. Your pussy was so good that it derailed his original plan. Jungkook tosses you up a little, getting a more secure hold as he wraps an arm around your waist. The motion makes his cock slip out, the loss of contact makes you whine.

His free hand tosses his soiled hoodie out of the way. You cringe, making a mental note to mop tomorrow morning.

He places one of your fancy, cooling-gel pillows on the edge of the bed, laying you down on top of it. Your hips are elevated, tilted upwards. Giving him a clear view of your glowy core. He catches a glimpse of the only place he hasn’t destroyed.

“What about this?” He coos, pressing the pad of his thumb right against your clenching hole.

You squeak, shaking your head. Baby steps.

“Alright,” he chuckles, hand retreating promptly. “Maybe next time.”

He wants to do this again. Your heart flutters.

You watch as he guides himself back in, stuffing you to the brim in one swift motion. Much less cautious than earlier. His cock hits your g-spot perfectly. The pillow and his curve doing wonders. Your eyes roll back as your head hits the bed. “Like that, right?” He laughs, snapping into you.

“Yeah, Jungkook,” you moan out, gripping your ankles and bringing them up by your head, just how he likes. “Don’t stop.”

He could’ve busted right then and there.

“Fuck, keep saying my name,” he groans, eyes glancing up to your perky tits, jiggling freely with every snap of his hips. His pupils sneak down further, watching his cock plow into your tight, wet cunt, leaving it dewy.

You call his name like a metronome, ‘Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook’. Voice airy, following the rhythm of his hips. It makes him move harder and faster, feeling that familiar pooling at the base of his shaft.

Just like everything about him, his strokes are fluid. His hips aren’t locked and stiff. They move in a dip and roll that makes your toes curl. His pelvis mushes against your clit when he thrusts all the way in, balls smacking against the curve of your ass. It feels delicious. Your third orgasm of the night is approaching fast.

“You cumming, Bambi?” He hums, already recognizing the way your thick brows pull together when you're close. The way your hips rut a little, naturally guiding you to your orgasm.

“Mhm, make me cum Jungkook,” you mewl.

He hovers over you, placing his hands on top of yours, bending your legs back farther. Taking long, violent plunges into you. So close to a piledriver. He’s basically fucking you into the mattress, bed frame cracking against the wall beside it. One of your vine garlands falls down, but you’re so close you can’t even bring yourself to care.

Your climaxes blend together. You first, clenching and unclenching around his length. Moans coming out sporadic and your shoulders off the bed. Legs trembling in his hands.

His orgasm is stunning.

“Ah- fuck. I’m cumming,” he croaks through snarled teeth, head dropping to watch where you connect. Something he does often, you notice. He doesn’t stop, even after he spills into the condom, fucking you until he’s completely drained. You whimper, sensitive from the overstimulation.

“Damn,” Jungkook huffs out a laugh, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You fist the wavy strands at the back of his head, a little damp.

“Thank you,” you speak shyly.

“I know you’re new to this,” he lifts up and looks at you quizzically, amusement tickling his features, “But that’s kinda a weird thing to say after someone fucks you.”

You laugh with him, eyes darting over his face. He has a small scar on his cheek, something you’ve never noticed before.

“No, I just mean-” you cringe when he pulls out of you, feeling empty. “You’re the only guy who’s ever… I don’t know. You’re just different.”

He smiles with twinkling eyes, tying a knot at the end of the condom and tossing it into the pink trash can beside your nightstand. “You’re different, too,” he mirrors, plopping down onto the bed next to you. “Special.”

Special.

You sigh into his lips when he gives you a soft peck, thumb brushing against the newfound mark of his face. “I’m sorry that I made you do all the work.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Making you feel good makes me feel good.” His words are sweet but there’s a naughty glint in his eyes. “Besides, you can think of this as a practice round.”

“Practice round?”

He hums in conformation, tapping your ass lightly, making it ripple against his hand. “Alright, go take a leak before you get a UTI.” He laughs when you push his shoulder. The same old blunt, shameless Jungkook.

He stops you before you disappear into the bathroom. “I hope this won’t make things awkward between us. Like, we’re still friends, right?”

Friends.

It takes all of your strength to give him a nod. You ponder over his words as you clean up in the bathroom. Why did you feel so... conflicted? You’re so happy, but you’re also kinda sad. It’s like your mood solely depends on Jungkook. His words have the power to pull you in whatever direction he pleases. You stare at yourself in the mirror.

All these emotions must mean you have a crush on him.

You sigh, flicking off the light and then heading back into your room.

Jungkook is hunkered down in your sea of pillows, soft snores leaving his parted lips. Chest rising and falling steadily. Hair messy, fanned around him.

He looks so beautiful and peaceful.

You tilt your head at the sight. He always told you that he never spends the night after a hookup.

The blanket is only covering his pelvis, strong legs poking out from underneath. His sweats are still on his ankles. You giggle, attempting to slide them off without waking him.

“Bambi,” he mutters sleepily, opening his big arms. “C’mere.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. You shuffle into bed, throwing the covers over both of your bare bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, pecking your forehead before drifting back into slumber.

Fuck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

�� chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]

9K notes · View notes

thepixelelf · 11 months

Text

ah! love

genres: married life au, family au, fluff, [best friends to lovers?] relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 2.0k warnings and notes: coarse language. suggestive. the most self indulgent thing I've ever written; tropey, cringey, lovey dovey, I literally fought this fic while writing it and lost, no one look at me. I wanna write more of this au but will I? only god knows

ah! love masterlist

Seungcheol conducts a very serious interrogation.

"Okay," Seungcheol says with a tinge of authority once you've all sat down in the living room.

The boys are asleep in bed — finally, (you had to read Goodnight Moon twice just for Chan to let go of your hand, and had to give Seungkwan six forehead kisses goodnight, which of course you had to give Vernon and Chan too) — and Jeonghan has already tugged you to his side of the couch, playing with your fingers while he pretends to listen to Seungcheol's Dad Mode engaging. Joshua scoots along the cushions to press himself against your other side, and he crosses his arms as if none of you know he did that on purpose for your attention.

Seungcheol, on an armchair across from you, furrows his brow ever so slightly and holds all of you down with a firm stare.

"Who did it?"

You tilt your head. "Did what?"

Joshua steals your other hand.

"Who's swearing in front of the boys?" Seungcheol finally reveals, sending a pointed look at the husband on your left. "Jeonghan?"

"Me?" An exaggerated gasp leaves Jeonghan's lips as he puts a hand over his chest, then silently takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap (and subsequently further from Joshua). He wraps his arms around your middle and rests his chin on your shoulder to send a pout towards Seungcheol. "I don't swear around the babies."

You reach out to take back Joshua's sad, lonely, abandoned, totally casual and not bothered at all hand, and he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

"You know how hard Jeonghan works to use his good words when he's with the kids, Cheol," you defend. "He used to swear like a sailor, remember?"

"Oh, I remember." Seungcheol nods, then directs his gaze towards the husband on your right. "Anything to say?"

Joshua frowns, thinking. "Why do you think one of us is swearing around the boys?"

"Vernon's block tower toppled this morning, and you know what he said?"

You smile. "I can make an educated guess."

"He said, 'Oh fuck,' like it was nothing!" Seungcheol bursts out. "He was like, 'Oh fuck. Shit,' and I was literally just standing there like— like—!"

Unable to help yourself, you giggle at the image of your middle child swearing in that monotone, relaxed, and yet remarkably toddler-esque voice of his.

Jeonghan lifts his chin off your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Sounds like something you would say."

"Who, me?!" you ask through more giggles. "I don't swear."

Joshua scoffs. He brings your hand up to his lips and speaks upon your skin. "You absolutely do. Back then I thought curses made up half of your vocabulary."

Your mouth drops open. "Wait, actually?"

"Being a parent has made you soft," Jeonghan adds, squeezing a hand at your side to make you squirm. "You seriously don't remember your prolific ways?"

"...Was it bad?"

Humming against your neck, Jeonghan presses one, two, three more kisses there. "I thought it was cute."

Joshua resituates himself so he's facing you and grazes his fingers up and down your arm. "So did I."

"Yah," Seungcheol says. Forgotten. Ignored. Annoyed. He leans back in the armchair, and his leg bounces in irritation. "I'm trying to have an adult conversation over here."

Jeonghan chuckles in your ear. Then kisses right behind it. "Okay," he tells Seungcheol, lifting one hand to lazily wave him off. "You stay over there then."

A hand touches your chin and tilts your head. "Look at me," Joshua whispers.

Seungcheol huffs, crossing his arms and sinking further into the chair. "I thought it was cute too..."

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Fucking... motherfucker cunt-faced shit-eating bitch of a... fuck!"

After hearing your ex's automated "I can't get to the phone right now" voicemail message for the fifth time in a row, you angrily threw your phone down. (Onto your soft bed, of course. You weren't made of money.)

"God damn it," you muttered, utterly frustrated.

The boys, sitting on your bed while you paced around your room, all shared a look with each other before facing you.

"Why are you trying to call this douche again?" Seungcheol asked, his stance on the asshole you were semi-dating clear.

"Yeah, didn't he cheat on you?" Joshua added.

Jeonghan nodded with a frown. "Shouldn't he be the one calling you? Begging for forgiveness like the loser he is?"

Rubbing your hands over your face, you let out a long, tired sigh. "I honestly don't care about an apology or begging for forgiveness or whatever from him. It was probably going to end sooner or later anyway."

The boys looked at each other again. They knew they didn't like the guy you were seeing, but since they also knew why they didn't like him, they never said anything. The fact that you seemed to think it was going to end even before the dickhead cheated? That, they didn't know.

Even though there was barely enough room, you flopped onto your bed face first, then shifted so you were on your back with a groan. "I just wanna call him, tell him I'm coming over, grab my things, and cut him out of my life for good."

"Is your stuff even worth it at this point?" Seungcheol poked a finger into your forehead, making you scrunch your face and swat his hand away. "I mean, it's just like, clothes and a toothbrush, right?"

Suddenly, you seemed much more shy than angry. You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands and picked at a loose thread. "I like my stuff..."

"Nuh uh." Jeonghan leaned over you, his head upside down with your ceiling as a background. "You don't get worked up like this over clothes and a toothbrush. What'd you leave there?"

You shrank into yourself. "Nothing..."

"Suspicious..." Jeonghan said, then looked at Joshua.

Who went, "Very suspicious..."

"Seungcheol," Jeonghan ordered.

Before you knew it, your unfairly built-like-a-brick-shithouse friend had both your arms pinned to the bed, and Joshua had thrown his entire body over your legs like a six year old attempting to wrestle.

Jeonghan, with his free reign, yanked your sweater sleeve up your arm to reveal your empty wrist. "Aha! I knew you weren't wearing your bracelet!"

Joshua gasped, affronted, looking absolutely ridiculous draped over your legs. "You left your friendship bracelet at his dingy ass apartment???"

Ashamed and a little bit fight or flight, you struggled against your friends. "Okay, first of all! You wouldn't know if his apartment is dingy!" (It was.) "And second of all: I didn't leave it there! I just so happened to take it off the night before I figured out he was a cheating piece of shit, so excuse me for being out of sorts when I stormed off in my PJs with tears in my eyes!"

Your words set off an awkward silence, and you groaned, shutting your eyes so you didn't have to see the pitying looks on your friends' faces.

But they knew you, and they knew apologizing for someone they weren't wouldn't make you feel better.

Instead, Seungcheol asked, "Why'd you take the bracelet off?"

You peeked an eye open, frowning in retaliation — they were still holding you down. "I'll give you one guess."

Seungcheol immediately let go of your arms and put his hands in the air like he was at gunpoint. Jeonghan just chuckled, shaking his head.

Joshua, dramatic as fuck, rolled over so his back was practically crushing your stomach. "Ewwwwwwwww," he whined. "I do not want to hear about how this guy fucks."

Your hands freed, you shoved him off, but he just went boneless and slipped to your side. "When did you get it in your head that I'd tell you how he fucks?" You crossed your arms and sat up. "It just... felt weird wearing our friendship bracelet while I... you know."

Joshua grimaced. "I'll make you a new one."

"No!" you protested, causing them to all give you a look you didn't bother to interpret. "It won't be the same. You made the original four at the same time. Together." Unable to meet their eyes, you looked down. "It's important to me..."

Another silence greeted you, and you scrambled to switch up the mood.

"If only that fucker would answer his bitchass phone."

Jeonghan and Joshua blinked at you, but Seungcheol just chuckled. You looked up at him as he stood from the bed, walking over to where he'd draped his jacket over your chair.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

"We're going to his dingy ass apartment," Seungcheol explained casually, tossing you your coat as well. "He's the one choosing to not answer his phone. He shouldn't be surprised when we show up."

The other two stood up, and Joshua dragged you by the hand to join them.

Seungcheol twirled his car keys around his pointer finger. "Let's go get that bracelet back."

You beamed.

"Fuck yeah!"

⭒-⭒-⭒

Seungcheol, after only so many seconds of enduring seeing you like that on Jeonghan's lap and with Joshua's stupid lips on yours, of course, relents. "Don't leave me out," he mutters through the poutiest pout he can manage. He gets up, strides two steps across the living room, and looms above you, though you don't see him with your eyes that have drifted shut.

The remedy for that, of course, is to grab your chin and kiss you like it's the first time all over again.

You giggle into the kiss, and he smiles too, both of his hands floating up to cup your cheeks.

Thud.

Your lips pause, and your brows furrow at the sound. Seungcheol hardly notices, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, but—

Thud thud thudthudthudthud.

You open your eyes to see Vernon lying supine, starfished at the bottom of the stairs he just tumbled down as he silently regards the ceiling, and you push Seungcheol off like he doesn't weigh anything.

"Oh my god, Vernon!"

Jeonghan's groin becomes the next victim of your haste, him groaning in pain when you launch yourself off the couch to run over to Vernon. You fall to your knees beside him, looking at his face with wide eyes.

He simply blinks up at you, face void of emotion.

Until you ask, frantically, "Are you okay?"

Vernon blinks again, and he suddenly realizes, oh, this is when a normal human five year old would cry. So his face scrunches up, and tears well in his eyes, and he looks at you with the most hold me right now or the world is gonna end expression on his face that you can do nothing but sweep him up into your arms and hug him to your chest.

"It's okay baby, it's okay."

Jeonghan's voice makes you look up. "What are you guys doing out of bed?"

At the top of the stairs, Seungkwan has one hand tightly gripped on the handrail — he's seen the consequences of not holding it now — and the other around Chan's tiny fist, which is really not that much smaller than his. Your youngest shifts on his feet, mumbling, "G'night kiss..."

Seungkwan, ever the all-knowing older brother, clarifies for him. "We didn't give the moon a good night kiss."

Your mouth drops open, and you can't stop the slight laugh that comes out. Vernon sniffles and buries his face in your shoulder, his hands scrunching up the material of your shirt.

"No good night kiss to the moon?" Joshua repeats. He begins up the stairs and scoops up a sleepy Chan into his arms, resting him on his hip. "That won't do, will it?"

Seungcheol's already hoisted Seungkwan up when he says, "Let's go kiss the moon goodnight and then go back to bed, alright?'

Seungkwan leans his head on Seungcheol's shoulder and nods slowly.

While you bring up Vernon (who you're pretty sure is already asleep in your arms and drooling on your clothes), Jeonghan keeps his hand on your back, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth.

The boys have their own rooms, but for now, they all prefer sleeping together in Seungkwan's. The room in which Seungcheol, as soon as he walks in without turning on the lights because it's late, knocks over an intricately built Lego city.

"Oh, fuck," he lets slip as he struggles to stay upright, then gasps when he realizes what he said and goes, "Shit."

Jeonghan snorts. Joshua muffles a laugh in Chan's hair.

You smile at Seungcheol with all the love in the world.

"Guess that answers that."

2K notes · View notes

nomercymaster11 · 1 month

Text

Through Law's eyes (Chapter 4)

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

WC: 2,993 | Law x y/n, afab!reader | continuation of "We should talk" A/N: My attempt of writing a first person perspective, Law's POV, reminiscing the days before that one fateful day. It's been about three years now since she became part of our crew. I remember the day she barged into our lives like a storm, all fierce determination, and pleading eyes. We'd just finished a mission on one of the islands in the North Blue, and she'd been instrumental in our success.

But when she asked to join us, I wasn't exactly jumping at the chance. See, it's not that I had anything against her personally—it's just that taking on new crew members is a big decision. Let alone another woman, aside from Ikkaku, to join the crew.

But as Penguin—bless his chatty soul—filled me in on her background, I started to see things differently. Turns out, she wasn't just some runaway trying to escape a bad situation. She had skills—mad skills. Not only was she handy with medicine, but she knew her way around basic mechanics too. That's the kind of resourcefulness you can't ignore on the Grand Line.

Penguin had spent some time with her while we were sorting out the aftermath of our mission. He couldn't stop talking about her, which, coming from him, was saying something. But the more he told me, the more I realized that she belonged with us. She wasn't just looking for a way out—she was looking for a purpose. And maybe, just maybe, we could give her that.

So, despite my initial reservations, I welcomed her aboard.

At first, she struggled with sea sickness, poor thing. But she didn't let it keep her down for long. Despite her initial queasiness, she threw herself into life aboard the Polar Tang with all the gusto of a seasoned sailor. She had this tomboyish vibe about her, fitting right in with the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of our crew.

Watching her adjust was like seeing a flower bloom in the midst of a storm. Day by day, she grew more accustomed to the rhythms of life at sea. And when she finally donned that crisp, white overall suit—the same one worn by the rest of the Heart Pirates—it was like she'd always been one of us. The crew welcomed her with open arms, and she fit in seamlessly.

I often caught glimpses of her shadowing Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo, soaking up their knowledge like a sponge. They took her under their wing, showing her the ropes of ship life, teaching her the ins and outs of the Polar Tang. They made sure she knew the rules I'd laid down, and they filled her in on all the little tricks and quirks of submarine living. And you know what? She took it all in stride, like it was second nature to her.

As they reported her progress to me, I couldn't help but be impressed. She was a quick learner, picking up skills that took others years to master. And every time I nodded in approval, it was like giving her a silent pat on the back. She was proving herself, not just to me, but to the whole crew.

XXXX

I remember that moment vividly, like it was yesterday. I was making my rounds through the submarine when I noticed a faint glow emanating from beneath the door of my office. Curiosity piqued, I approached quietly and peeked through the small window. There she was, surrounded by a sea of medical books, completely engrossed in their pages. Her expression was a mix of fascination and concentration, her lips forming silent words as she absorbed the knowledge within those worn pages.

I knocked softly, not wanting to startle her, and she jumped, clearly caught off guard. As I entered, she stood up quickly, blinking rapidly as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be touching these," she apologized, her voice tinged with guilt.

But I shook my head, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "No problem at all. You're welcome to borrow them anytime."

Her face lit up like a child on Christmas morning, and she grinned at me eagerly. "I also brought some medical books with me when I came aboard the sub. Can I keep them here?" she asked, gesturing to the stack of books she'd brought with her.

I nodded, touched by her enthusiasm. It wasn't every day that someone showed such genuine interest in expanding their knowledge.

And so, our impromptu study sessions began. It was the only time we were truly alone together, just the two of us surrounded by the wealth of knowledge contained within those walls. And as we poured over the books, exchanging insights and ideas, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closeness growing between us. She wasn't just a member of my crew—she was a kindred spirit, hungry for knowledge and eager to learn.

This isn’t something we do on a regular basis. During those rare moments when our duties aligned and we found ourselves in the same room, engrossed in our respective books, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. There was something mesmerizing about the way she immersed herself in her reading, her brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she absorbed the words on the page.

One particular night stands out in my memory. We were seated across from each other, the soft glow of the lamplight casting gentle shadows across her features. As I lifted my gaze from the text in front of me, I found myself studying her with a newfound curiosity. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks with each blink, and her eyes darted back and forth across the pages, devouring every word. My gaze trailed down to the delicate curve of her nose, and then lingered on her lips—soft and full, like petals begging to be kissed.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the sudden wave of distraction that washed over me. I couldn't afford to get lost in thoughts of her—not when there were duties to attend to, and a ship to command. But despite my best efforts to focus on my reading, my mind kept drifting back to her, like a ship caught in an irresistible current.

What are you doing? I chided myself silently, forcing my attention back. I couldn't afford to let myself be distracted—not by her, or by anything else. But as I stole one last glance at her, her beauty illuminated by the soft glow of the lamplight, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to reach out and touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.

But such thoughts were dangerous, I reminded myself sternly. We were pirates, after all—outlaws on the high seas. And as much as I might have wanted to, I couldn't allow myself to get too close. Not when the stakes were so high, and the dangers so real. So, with a sigh, I forced myself to turn back to my book, pushing aside the tantalizing thoughts that threatened to consume me. But deep down, I knew that no matter how hard I tried to resist, she had already captured a piece of my heart.

That moment of distraction was like a brief flicker of light in the darkness—a glimmer of something I hadn't felt in ages. But I knew better than to let it take root. Emotions were a dangerous thing for a pirate, especially someone in my position. So, I buried those feelings deep down, resolved to concentrate on the current task.

XXXX

I threw myself into my duties with a renewed vigor, strategizing and planning with a single-minded intensity. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before I knew it, a year had slipped by like sand through my fingers. We had crossed into the treacherous waters of the Grand Line, where danger lurked around every corner and the ocean itself seemed to rise up against us.

In the depths of the Grand Line, the challenges we faced were unlike anything we'd encountered before. The sea monsters were larger, fiercer, and more relentless than those of the North Blue. Every day was a battle for survival, as we navigated through storms and dodged the attacks of creatures that seemed intent on tearing our ship apart.

But despite the dangers, I found solace in the chaos. In the midst of battle, there was no room for distraction or doubt. Every decision had to be made with precision and clarity, every move calculated to ensure our survival. And as the captain of the Heart Pirates, it was my responsibility to lead my crew through the storm and into calmer waters.

So, I pushed aside any lingering thoughts of her. There would be time for reflection later, when the seas were calm and the danger had passed. But for now, my only concern was keeping my crew safe and steering our ship toward our next destination in the unpredictable waters of the Grand Line.

XXXX

It was on one such stop at an island that another incident unfolded. As I stood by the dock, mulling over our next course of action, she came bounding towards me, her fiery determination evident in every step.

I couldn't help but let out a sigh as she stood there, her lips set in a determined pout. This wasn't the first time we'd had this argument, and I had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be the last. She was stubborn, that much was clear, and when she set her mind to something, there was no stopping her.

But as much as her defiance grated on my nerves, I couldn't deny that there was something undeniably endearing about her fiery spirit. Even when she was being a brat, there was a spark in her eyes that I couldn't help but admire.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to quell the rising frustration within me. "Fine, have it your way," I relented, knowing that arguing any further would be futile. "But on one condition."

Her eyes lit up with curiosity as she leaned in, waiting for my terms. "What is it?" she asked eagerly.

"If you're able to land even a small cut on me anywhere on my body, I'll let you join Penguin and the others in their sparring," I replied, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.

I told her that she’s supposed to be a support and not someone who fights on the frontline.

Her expression faltered for a moment, a hint of doubt flickering across her features. "That's not fair! You're way stronger than me!" she protested; her frustration evident.

I shrugged nonchalantly, not about to back down. "Then give up, easy as that," I teased, hoping to quell her whining once and for all.

But instead of conceding defeat, she squared her shoulders and met my gaze head-on. "Let me practice first," she declared, her determination shining through.

And in that moment, I knew there was no stopping her. Whether I liked it or not, she was going to find a way to prove herself, even if it meant facing off against me, her captain, in a battle of wills. And as much as I tried to resist, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride swell within me at the sight of her unwavering determination. She may have been a handful, but she was my crewmate, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

As the crew gathered on the shore, forming a circle around us, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation coursing through my veins. The air was charged with excitement, and I tightened my grip on Kikoku, its weight resting comfortably on my shoulder, while the other hand remained tucked inside my pocket. Beside me stood <y/n>, a few inches away, her movements fluid as she stretched her arms, cracked her knuckles, and warmed up her legs. The intensity in her eyes was unmistakable; she was dead serious about this.

"You can still back out if you want to," I offered, my voice laced with a hint of warning.

"Why? Are you scared of me?" she shot back, her voice laced with playful defiance.

A chorus of cheers erupted from the crew, egging us on as we prepared to face off. I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her cockiness, unsure where her newfound confidence was coming from.

"What's going on?" Shachi whispered to Penguin, his curiosity evident.

"It appears that the two had a deal, something like that," Penguin replied, his arms crossed as he observed the scene. He had assisted her briefly in honing her swordsmanship skills.

As we squared off, I caught Shachi and Penguin exchanging whispered words, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They knew something was up, but they trusted me enough to let things play out.

"Just to let you know, I won't hold back. You wanted this after all," I warned her, my grip tightening around my sword as I began to unsheathe it slowly. Truth be told, I was bluffing. Landing a small bruise on her would be sufficient—I had no desire for her to harbor any ill will towards me. But perhaps teaching her a lesson was necessary.

For a moment, hesitation flickered in her eyes as she tightened her grip on her own sword but then she squared her shoulders and advanced towards me. It was easy for me to anticipate her moves, to parry her attacks effortlessly. Despite her lack of experience, she wielded her sword with conviction, her determination evident with each swing. But there was something different about her—something unexpected.

"I thought you're not going to hold back? Why are you on the defensive?" she taunted, her words ringing in the air.

I couldn't help but smirk at her audacity. With a swift movement, I vanished from her line of sight, only to reappear behind her, ready to strike. But to my surprise, she anticipated my move, twisting her body to block my attack with her sword.

Her movements were fluid and precise, as if she could see right through me. And when I attacked again, she parried effortlessly, her eyes locked on mine with a steely determination. Testing my theory, I attacked from a different angle, only for her to evade once more.

"Since when did you know you could use Observation Haki?" I asked, taken aback by her newfound skill.

"I wasn't sure," she admitted, panting slightly from exertion. "I started seeing things differently."

She was full of surprises, that much was clear. But even as we continued to clash, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her than met the eye.

"The deal is still on though," I reminded her, my voice firm.

"I won't back down," she replied

She may have been a novice, but she had the heart of a warrior, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for her in that moment.

As our sparring continued, I couldn't help but admire her tenacity and marvel her progress. Despite her initial hesitations, she was adapting quickly, her movements becoming more fluid and precise with each exchange. The cheers of the crew egged us on, fueling the fire that burned between us.

But as the minutes dragged on, I found myself growing weary of the fight. With a final swing of my sword, I sent her weapon flying, causing her to lose her balance. Her eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the fall, but before she could hit the ground, I acted on instinct, hooking my arm around her to steady her. Our eyes locked in a moment of shared intensity, breaths ragged, chests rising and falling in unison. I could feel the warmth of her hand against my chest, the beads of sweat glistening on our foreheads.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around us fading into the background as we stood locked in that intimate embrace. But the sound of applause from the crew jolted me back to reality, and I quickly helped her to her feet, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in my chest.

Retrieving my sword and sheathing it once more, I took a moment to catch my breath, removing my fur hat to run a hand through my hair. But before I could even gather my thoughts, she was already asking about joining the others in their sparring sessions.

"You didn't land a scar anywhere on me. So, it's still a no," I replied firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Her face fell instantly, her lips forming again to a pout that I couldn't help but find endearing. But I refused to let myself give in to her charms—not now, not ever.

"Rules are rules. You know that" I reminded her, furrowing my brows in a gesture that I hoped conveyed my seriousness.

But she wasn't about to give up so easily. Grabbing my arms, she examined them closely, searching for any sign of injury. She squeezed my hand firmly, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. Then, she cupped my face in her hands, her touch gentle yet probing. She moved my head from side to side, inspecting me for any hidden injuries, her eyes scanning my features with unwavering focus. I stiffened under her touch, caught off guard by her sudden gesture. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling within me.

"Stop that," I scolded lightly, trying to mask the way her touch affected me.

With a resigned sigh, I watched as the crew began to make their way back to the submarine. But even as we parted ways, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger—something that would change us both in ways we couldn't even begin to imagine.

Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4.5 (Almost at the end)

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #heart pirates #law x you #bepo one piece #law x reader #law x female reader #law x y/n #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #polar tang

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eggtartz · 6 months

Text

✧ 26th October ✧

Sanji Vinsmoke // "Bon Appetit!" (f! strawhat crew reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : ice play, sanji wants his women satisfied, uhm ice goes into the coochie

having a relationship with the sanji vinsmoke is honestly going great for you. the food is great, the way he treats you is even better. it's a stable relationship between you and him and you can not ask for anything more. well, except for one thing. given how lewd and perverted sanji is around women, you really thought he's a beast in bed. that perception changed when you got into a relationship with him and safe to say that it's bland.

like bland as hell.

the sex was always vanilla and the most extreme thing he has done is probably fingering you dry. this had to change and you're determined. waking up that day, you marched pass the other crews while blossoming them a smile. you arrived at the kitchen where sanji was humming while cooking breakfast. "good morning y/n-swan! breakfast is almost ready, do let the others know and sit down, yes?" he said sweetly, you're almost sorry.

"sanji, I don't feel like having breakfast today" you pressed yourself against his body, making sure he feels how erected your nipples are. you wanted him to lose control, to let go. sanji almost choked at the sight of your boobs almost spilling out from your top and he can see your nipple through it. "y/n.. d-did you not wear anything underneath?"

"wanna find out?" you purred, calling him in like a siren calling for the sailor. you were going to make sure the sailor wrecked his ship today. You pulled his loose tie as his cigarette fell from his lips at the directness. "come, my room's empty. we can do more" you purred again as sanji's eyes changed into hearts as he drooled over your seductions. as the time you two arrived at your room, you puled down his coat blue shirt as you took off your top. sanji's nose bleed at the beautiful sights of your tits, almost cooing when he gets ahold of them. "y/n-swan's breasts are the best! so soft, squishy!" he muttered, gently lapping on them and tweaking the bud. "sanji!" you whimpered as he squished two boobs to fit in his mouth.

you backed up bit by bit until eventually you two fell on the plush bed. "i actually have something to say, sanji.." you jolted between words as his mouth wrapped around your nipple. "yeah? What is it?" he asked, eyes closed. "i wanna spice things up when we have sex" you blurted that his tongue stopped. "were you not satisfied before, my love?" he looked up to you, a tinge of hurt in his tone. "no! it's just, okay, fine. it isn't sanji.. i never get excited and usually i get bored than excited" you sat up to look at him properly. "is that selfish?" you asked gently, not wanting to offend him. "absolutely not. i'm glad that you stated it, dear. as a gentleman, i feel ashamed to leave you unsatisfied. tell me, what plans do you have? i'm in board!" he smiled as you sighed in relief.

"uh, could you masturbate while i play with myself?" sanji was more than eager, pulling out his dick from his briefs. meanwhile, you bent down under your breath and pulled out a bucket. sanji didn't questioned the contents but he could see a bunch of ice in there along with a bottle of wine.

you spread your legs, revealing your bare cunt for him to see. "do you have a clear view?" you asked and was answered with a moan "the best view" sanji bought his hand up and down his cock, spitting on his hand. you took one ice and circled them around your pussy lips and sanji almost came.

almost.

sanji grunted, squeezing his dick as the ice swirled around your folds and he had this urge to put his tongue there too. "y/n.." he said under his breath. you smiled and when the ice melted, you slip it inside of you and it popped back out when you clenched. sanji was amazed with the show, his balls have never felt this tight before and he was itching to touch you and fuck you raw. a daze was clouding his head of how good your pussy must feel right now.

you teased him, the ice resembling a circle going in and out your pussy with easy as another hand of yours circled another ice around your clit. you throw your head back, the coldness from the ice and sanji's piercing eyes drilling holes into your gushing cunt was arousing you tremendously. "are you looking, sanji? how my pussy gets wet from the ice?" he was jacking off with concentration, sweat on his forehead. "i can see, y/n. it's so hot.. so fucking hot" he growled. "and it can be like that without ice, you know?" you said again as sanji smiled. "you're right darling."

he moved himself, plunging his dick inside your pussy with the ice still inside. "sanji!" you yelped but he was already thrusting and already found a steady but punishing pace, "i was foolish to not see how you were unsatisfied, y/n. let me help" he dribbled spit on your lower tips, as you wrapped your legs around him. "oh, sanji!" you moaned when his cock pushed the ice deep in your gut, the feeling of it slowly melting away was making you mushy "thank you for telling me, y/n" he whispered, spitting on his palm and rubbing your stiff clitoris as you mewled.

"you won't regret it!" he grunted, his cock disappearing inside and out of you. his thrusts were brutal and fast as you saw stars and feel your climax knocking in. "i'm gonna cum, sanji!" you huff as he went faster. "do it, y/n. i need to feel it.. i never felt it before but now i'll make sure you cum until you can't!" he bullied his seed inside you, melting with the ice as you came with your eyes rolled back. "that was.. so good.. mmh." sanji placed his fingers inside, gently scooping out the remaining ice as he placed it on his tongue and kissed you. the ice was passed on to each other mouths as drool dribbled under the chin and the ice completely dissolves. "i hope you're satisfied, y/n-swan" he panted against your lips. "oh you left me satisfied indeed" you purred, holding his face as you two kissed again.

#one piece imagine #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji one piece #sanji smut #sanji imagine #sanji op

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weird-an · 7 months

Text

Halloween is stupid.

Steve always liked the parties, but dressing up? He spent enough time in a stupid sailor costume, thank you very much.

But...Dustin insisted Steve should put on the costume. The kids are having a party. Steve is a loser for going to it, according to Billy.

Steve stopped caring what people think about him ages ago. For some reason it still pisses him off, when Billy is the one judging him. Billy had just talked him into watching Escape From New York and well, Snake Plissken was a cool guy. So, Steve put on an eye patch and a leather jacket. Easy. He actually looks cool. Not that any of the nerds would care.

It's the first Halloween since Billy and him are a thing or whatever. Maybe that's why Billy is salty, because Steve is going to spend it with the "dorks" and not with his... guy?

Steve isn't sure what they are exactly. They fuck, they fight, they sometimes get drunk together and talk about what they aren't allowed to. About monsters lurking in the woods, about shadows in the mind, about another Hawkins.

But now Billy is here, sitting at the Byers kitchen table with a beer in his hand, glaring at a pumpkin Max had carved out and put a thin mustache on.

Steve stops dead on his tracks. Billy is wearing Steve's most expensive polo shirt. His mullet is slicked back a little, but a few curls have gotten loose, framing his face. He's even wearing Steve's cologne. He smells like Steve which is a little confusing.

"What the fuck," Steve says flatly.

Billy raises a brow. "Nice to see you, Harrington."

"Are you dressed up as me for Halloween?" Steve puts his hands in his hips. Is Billy fucking serious? "Is that my watch?"

"I knew you stole it, Billy," Max shouts from the kitchen.

Billy looks at Steve's watch like he's seeing it for the first time and then grins at Steve, batting his eyelashes at him. "C'mon, let me be King for a day, Steve."

It's kinda hot. Shit. Steve is going to fuck Billy until the bed breaks.

"Just don't try to date my sister," Mike Wheeler quips from somewhere in the living room.

Billy chokes on his beer. "That... won't happen," he coughs.

Steve snickers and sits next to him. "You wanna escape with me later?" he whispers.

Billy groans into his beer. "I hate that this works."

"I saw you stare at Kurt Russell," Steve says, voice still low. Billy knew that movie by heart. Steve caught him reciting the dialogue.

"Harrington, at least I'm not going home with myself." Billy rolls his eyes and tugs at the collar of Steve's polo.

"Like you wouldn't."

Billy's mouth snaps shut. His nose gets tinged a little pink.

"You know, that pumpkin just looks like-"

"Harrington! I swear to God if you finish that sentence-"

Steve just changed his mind. He loves Halloween.

#i have another fantasy about billy escaping the upside down on a motorcycle with an eyepatch snake plissken style #harringrove #idiots in love #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

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darkdemeter · 2 months

Text

— TEASER —

Material is subject to change in post editing.

“SIREN, BE BOUND TO ME II”

Now posted here!

A/N: Help us, Captain Bucky! We fell overboard! While you lovelies wait for SBBTM II, enjoy this teaser.

(Dark) Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

— Pirate (dark). Bucky. — possessive/dom Bucky — pet names ("Siren") — SMUT 18+ Minors DNI! — P in V sex — there is no pull out game here, Buck is ALL. IN — mention of marks/hickeys — jealous/possessive reader — I think that's it?

Enjoy the excerpt!

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Your velvety walls tighten around the hardened length penetrating you, filling you, his cock encumbered by the vice of your cunt. The blinding flash covers your vision and heat spreads through every corner of your body, leaving nothing but a siren blinded in lustful bliss. He groans with each drag and push, muscles glistening in the soft glow of the rising sun. The flowing wave of his treasured seed finds purchase in your lower abdomen.

It’s not until he completely empties his hot load, does he finally slow his pace to a stop. Above you he pants heavily, each breath a reminder to you of the sea’s spray and sun-tainted breeze that tousles the darkened locks of his hair.

Your energy sapped from the unbridled temper of your beloved Captain, you find reprieve of the gentleness of his tongue tracing the numerous dark marks covering your skin - his marks.

“Know this…” His voice rumbles lowly, his flesh hand harbouring the necklace dangles it mere inches over your parted lips. “There is nothing for you to find in a dried pearl, Siren. I am all you need.”

Metal squeezes your jawline, pursuing your understanding. The pink tip of his tongue wets his lips and he arches a brow.

“Yes…”

You needn’t be jostled twice by the threat of his grasp, you whisper, voice barely audible, “…Captain.”

“Atta girl.”

Arriving at port in Nassau means safe haven for the crew of The Avenger, a chance to rekindle spirits with a few dozen barrels of liquor and a woman’s belly to keep any weathered sailor happy. In the Caribbean’s turning and heating morn, gulls scavenge for pickings of food, the white banks of sand converging with the blue tinged tide bathe the nudity of your feet with absorbed heat it brings an irate wince to cross your features. Over the vast stretch of beach and headed further inland, the jolly tune of harboured pirates emit from the wooden, creaky shacks, if not counting the ruckus of noisy patrons enjoying their paid company.

Never did your Captain have need for such sleaziness, such lazed women who lounge in wait for coins to fill the near-always empty drawstring bag tied to their thigh. He had you. To hold you close to the scorching warmth of his battle hardened body, to passionately entangle your limbs in an endless thread of desire, and to bask in the radiance that is one another; the possession of a companion no other can have.

And your own guard for your beloved Captain doesn’t go unnoticed, by either him or the hungering gazes of those women yet in wait, your arms encircling around the bulk of Bucky’s flesh arm, in your neck the muscles strain as your fangs become elongated in a threatening display, the disguise of your eyes falters into narrow strips of glaring obsidian.

These women are no strangers to the presence of sirens, in spite of the limited number of population, a siren’s prize is never to be taken from her.

“Easy, Lass,” Bucky coos, lips drawn on either side into a charming grin. “Ain’t none suiting my fancy but you.”

His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful gazes of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few huff in their amusement. His assurances brighten refocused pupils and the lines around your mouth pull into a smirk. The now scornful gazes of ladies unworthy of his time burn into you, and you in turn purse the tip of your tongue between your lips in retaliation. Behind, you hear a few huff in their amusement.

Coming Soon...

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @mostlymarvelgirl @daddy-bucky @thegirlwholoveslivesfanfiction @armystay89

#female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes fic #pirate au #siren reader #pirate bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #dem's updates #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you

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breannasfluff · 4 months

Text

Wild Wolf - Time

The path is visible over the low rise of the hill, along with a small grove of fruit trees. Wind breaks away with a squeal of delight and races for it, Noon at his heels. They both ignore Twilight’s shout behind them.

Noon smells him before they reach the little grove. The sour tang of monster blood, tinged with hylian sweat. He slows and gives a low growl, which Wind ignores.

“Apples! I’m starving!”

Danger, watch out! He barks, bounding forward to try to herd the sailor away.

“Go on, I just want an apple!”

Not safe!

The sharp sound of metal being drawn has Wind freezing. One of the apples in his arm falls and rolls across the grass. From behind a tree, a tall hylian in formidable armor steps forth. There are blue and red tattoos on his face and one eye is bisected with a scar. A slash from a sword, perhaps?

Dawn had a scar over one eye, but it wasn’t this extensive. This reaches up toward the hylian’s hairline and down his cheek.

“Who are you?” comes a deep, rumbling voice.

Noon puts his ears back and growls.

One eye lazily drops to run over him. “Your pet doesn’t scare me, even if he is a coyote.”

He adds bared teeth for good measure, taking a stiff-legged step forward. The fur on his back and ruff stands up. Danger, will bite, aggressive!

The only answer is a dismissive snort. “Answer, boy. I don’t know you.”

“And you know everyone?” Wind, because he is a Link, is too challenging.

Noon can still hear the double-time beat of his heart. What should he do? He’ll protect the sailor, of course, but a small coyote isn’t much of a match for a large sword.

“I do, in fact, know anyone worth knowing.”

“Maybe I’m not worth knowing!”

One eyebrow goes up. “I highly doubt that. Now answer, boy, who are you?”

Noon takes another step forward, growl kicking up.

The scrape of steel is joined by the pounding of feet and Twilight shoves his way in front of Wind, sword drawn. “Leave him alone!”

The hylian stares, but Twilight ignores him, keeping his focus on the large sword still pointed in their direction. “Wind, drop those apples. We’re leaving.”

Hyrule hovers just outside the grove, hands twisting. Noon tries to keep an eye on everyone, but it’s hard to juggle. Where’s Four? Hopefully with Hyrule, or set down to hide if there’s a fight.

Wind takes a slow step back, still clutching his armful of apples. “But…I’m hungry?”

“No. Drop them and go! Hyrule, get him out of here, will you?”

The traveler darts forward to grab Wind and drag him backward.

No longer having to worry about him, Noon takes his place at Twilight’s side. He’ll protect his boy in the coming fight if needed.

“I have no quarrel with you.” The rancher’s voice is strong, with no waver. “Will you let us leave?”

Still, the stranger stares. The sword is slowly lowered until the tip digs into the grass. Twilight keeps an eye on it and takes a cautious step back. Then another.

“You…” the man’s voice is faint.

Still backing up, the rancher keeps his eyes on the weapon, his own still raised. Unfortunately, he’s not watching his feet and lands on one of the apples. It rolls under his foot and he flails, going down with a yelp.

Noon flattens himself as the sword is thrown free and whistles over his head. Then he throws himself in front of his friend with a snarl. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his pack safe!

The stranger doesn’t attack. Instead, he sheathes his sword on his back and steps forward, hands raised.

He may not have a weapon, but Noon’s growl kicks up another notch. Danger, will bite! Protect! Stay away!

“…Twilight?”

#wild wolf #wolf family #coyote wild #lu wild #lu time #lu twilight #lu wind #linked universe #linkeduniverse #breannasfluff #my writing

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astroboots · 11 months

Note

Homecoming tings, more of them in public! Do they hide it? Do they not give a shit? Alternatively, how did the Miller bros find out. I kinda feel like the trio didn't want to like. Draw attention to it, but they weren't gonna police their behavior either. I feel like Will was content to just stay silent and accept the new dynamic but Benny is an idiot and said a quiet thing out loud 😂

Girl and boy Interrupted

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x female reader

Summary: This is the story of how one half of the Miller brothers finds out about you and Santiago and Frankie.

Content: Explicit shenanigans. Semi public? Getting caught in the act with your pants pulled down.

Homecoming Drabbles | Homecoming Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist

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You're sitting on a chair on Molly's porch, trying not to stare. But Santiago isn't making it easy for you today.

He'd been bitching and moaning (as he so often does) about the heat all morning and on the way over. Complaining that he felt like he'd stepped inside a pizza oven, while tugging at his t-shirt, grumbling about how it was sticking to his skin everywhere.

At the time, when you had walked across Molly's law and spotted the water hose, spraying him had seemed like a hilarious idea.

At the time, when Santiago yelped and jumped away, with an indignant scowl on his face, it had been oh-so-satisfying.

At the time, seeing him soaked from head to toe had felt like victory.

Now though, as you spy him across the lawn, golden skin damp and slick with a wet sheen, those ridiculous curls of his glistening against the bright sun like a beacon to guide in lost sailors from the sea, it feels like torture.

He's doing it on purpose isn't he? He must be.

As you think the thought, it's as if Santiago (in tune with you as he always is) is capable of reading your mind. His head turns back to you, meeting your gaze, mouth pulling into an amused smile as he sees you watch him. Then he winks.

It's all it takes. That simple gesture sends an electric jolt through your spine that has you bolt up in your seat and clamp your thighs together to stem the sensation.

Yeah, definitely on purpose.

Asshole.

What exactly is he expecting you to do about the situation?

You're at Molly's, surrounded by friends. Frankie's still not here (running an hour late from work). Tom is tending to the barbecue like it's one of his military operations and Will is standing next to him stoic and disinterested as always, not intervening even though you and him both know that Tom is putting in way too much charcoal.

Shaking your head, you try to focus on the conversation at hand, but it's hopeless. Benjamin is standing next to you and Molly telling you an animated story about... something.

You're not really paying attention in all honesty. But judging from the way the younger Miller is swinging his arms around, he's either talking about wrestling down an alligator or how his newest hobby of crocheting is going.

There's no way you can haul the smirking asshole in your peripheral vision off somewhere to rub that self-satisfied expression of his face the only way you know how.

Not unless you two want to invite a lot of uncomfortable questions about yours and Frankie's relationship with Santiago.

Benny would never let it go, not with his curiosity. Molly is already suspicious. Tom... god you don't even want to imagine having that conversation with that man. As for Will... well actually Will would would probably mind his own business.

He's never been the type to pry. He doesn't get involved unless he absolutely has to and even then, he'll take the path of least resistance, and say as little about it (if anything at all).

Your eyes trail off, and you find yourself watching Santiago from the distance as he takes a sip from the cold bottle of beer. Watching as his Adam's apple in that long gracious throat of his bob with a mesmerizing movement. Watching his still wet t-shirt stick to his chest.

Did you say beacon earlier? Scratch that, the man is a fucking siren, trying to lure you in to your inevitable death and doom with his shameless seduction.

God, he's doing that stupid thing with his lips again. Raising the palm of his hand to his mouth to wipe away the remnants of the sticky beer, then his tongue darts out to lick at his luscious bottom lip. Glimpses of that very same habit of his whenever he's tucked between your thighs invades your vision.

Oh fuck it!

"Santiago!" you announce, and Santiago's head perks up. "Can you help me get another crate of beer from the garage?"

His eyes practically glitters at that. Smile pulling wider and you can almost hear the way he wants to cackle with laughter.

He doesn't of course. Instead all he says is, "of course, cariño," and puts down his beer on the nearest surface and starts making his way to the garage.

If Molly gives you a strange look as you start running towards Santiago, you wouldn't know, because you are too focused on the man in front of you to pay attention to your surroundings.

"That wasn't very subtle was it?" Santiago grins, as he steps into the garage.

The door barely has time to shut behind you before your arms flings around his shoulders and you haul him down to meet your lips.

Whatever the smartass has to say next is lost in a low rumbling moan as you lick into his mouth. He tastes slightly sweet of malty hoppy that sticks to your tongue and goes straight to your head as you drag your teeth against his bottom lip and nip down.

A bit too hard it seems, because Santiago groans into you, shuddering, as his lashes flutter and he looks down on you with half-lidded eyes.

"Fuck, sweetheart, what's gotten into you?"

That's such a ridiculous question. Santiago knows exactly what's gotten into you. Knows exactly what he did to get you as riled up as you are. You don't dignify it with an answer, instead you reach up, fingers tangling into his wet curls as you pull him down against you as you walk him backwards. Not stopping until his chest is pressed up against you. Not until your back hits the edge of some surface that you're not really paying attention to (a workbench? a disused dining table? who the fuck cares). You don't stop until you feel his arms wrap around you and hoist you up on that very same mysterious surface. And then Santiago's caging you in between his thick thighs, that slick mouth on yours as he grinds against you.

The denim of his jeans drags against your groin, the hard bulge of his cock trapped underneath, pressing against the inside of your thigh. Electricity surges through every one of your nerve endings at the contact.

Those clever fingers of his trails the side of your hips, down along the inside of your thighs and then they hook against the lining of your panties as he traces the seam of your cunt.

Fuck! fuck.

"So fucking wet already," he murmurs, fingertip flicking over your clit, "and you weren't even the one who got hosed down like an animal."

Then he pulls his fingers away.

You want to scream. Because that would've been too easy wouldn't it? Of course the bastard was still carrying a grudge about that.

"Santiago," you start, glaring at him even as he smiles back at you. Thumb dragging against the corner of his mouth as his tongue flicks out and he licks both his lip and then the taste of you from his fingers. Doing that stupid thing with his lips that got you here in the first place.

God you could kill him.

"Santiago, we don't have time."

"Don't worry cariño, I'll make the time"

The man has no fucking common sense. Did he forget that you're at a barbecue with your friends? Friends who are waiting for the two of you to come back with beer supplies. Friends who don't know that Santiago is fucking his best friend and his best friend's husband? Friends who will be asking a lot of questions and probably have suspicions if you don't come back with said beers in the next few seconds????!

"I'm not playing this game with you today, Santiago."

Reaching up, you're growling as you grab him by the back of his neck and pull him back down to you.

"I need you to just fuck me," you order as your free hand is already fumbling at the front button of his jeans, wrenching down the zipper.

The asshole chuckles in reply. A breathless boyish laugh, as he finally decides to help you instead of being obstructive and reaches down to pull down his jeans the rest of the way down his hips.

"Fuck you huh?" He grabs himself in one hand, spreading your legs wider with his other, as he positions himself at your entrance and for a moment you forget what it is like to breathe.

"Think I need that too," he says, mouth still pulled into that arrogant angle. But you can hear from the shakiness of his words, the way his breath stutters in your ear that he needs this just as bad as you do.

Then he slides into you, inch by sweet addictive inch, arms bracketing your side as his hips cant up and into you. The relief you feel as he fills you up can't be described with words.

Pleasure swims through your veins, fast and overwhelming until your vision goes white and fuzzy with it.

"God Boa, you feel so--" you don't hear the rest.

Your hearing must've gone along with your vision, because you can't even hear your own moans anymore. Even though you know from the way your throat scratches with a raw burn that you must be making noises loud enough to wake the dead. And in some distant remote location where your sole remaining brain cell resides, it is telling you that you need to be quiet. Need to be careful so that you don't get caught.

But you can't. Can't stop and can't care. Not when it feels this good. Not when Santiago is thrusting into you deep and reckless, both of you chasing the pleasure of it as that familiar heat buzzes pleasantly in your veins.

And if it wasn't for the fact that you're both so gone, maybe you would've noticed. Would've noticed as the garage door to the side opens. Would've noticed the way sunlight floods the space. But you don't.

You don't notice anything at all until Santiago stills and refuses to move even as you wrap your legs around him and try to pull him closer.

Don't even notice that Santiago is looking away from you, eyes burst wide with horror.

You don't notice until it's entirely too late that in front of the open garage door, Captain William Miller is standing with wide eyes and frozen stiff shoulders.

Your stomach drops to the concrete floor and tries to scuba dive into the soil beneath and reach its way to Australia.

Shit. oh shit. oh shit! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!

"It's not what it looks like," Santiago says.

And oh god. That's the most cliched and stupidest thing to say. It's not what it looks like? What exactly does it not look like?

Does it not look like Santiago is balls deep inside you with his jeans pooled around his ankles?

Thankfully, before Santiago gets a chance to dig himself even deeper, Will interrupts him with a curt, "don't."

He averts his gaze, turning on his feet as if to leave, but then he stops mid-rotation. "Does Frankie know?"

You look to Santiago, the man of many words in every situation. His mouth parts, but no words seem to come out. The man who always knows what to say has finally run out of words.

"Ye-yes," you manage to stutter out.

"And he's okay with it yeah?"

What's the answer to that? Do you say more? Do you explain? Do you tell Will that Frankie is part of this-- well whatever this is??

Jesus, fuck, how do you even begin to explain this?

You look at Santiago again, and he looks back at you, and without a word you know the same line of questions is racing through his mind. There's no adequate explanation that would begun to unravel what this is. Instead the only thing both of you do is nod dumbly in coordination.

There is a minute change in his facial expression and if William Miller hadn't been a peripheral part of your life for as many years as it's been, it would've been far too easy to miss. The straight grim line of his mouth relaxing ever so slightly, the line of his brow smoothing out, as he tilts his head by a fraction of an inch to give you an imperceptible nod.

"Alright," he says.

Then he just... leaves, gently closing the door behind himself with a soft click of the hinge, leaving you and Santiago, still inside you, still with his pants pulled to his ankles, in shock and confusion.

And that's the story of how Will finds out about Santiago and you, but decides to mind his own business.

A/N: Nonny I can't tell you enough how much I LOVED this ask because before you sent it in it just so happened that @thirstworldproblemss and I had been discussing and cackling at this very scenario of how Will and the others find out. So thank you so so much for sending this in so that I had an excuse to write this silly thing out and share it with you all. This one is dedicated to you nonny!

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fics #oscar isaac #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #💌 asks

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 3 months

Text

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 18

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 5041

The two of you are irresponsible. Things end up fine, anyways.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Race To Fireworm Island, unedited, part one

“Yak dung, if ye brew’t ri’gh, yae can-”

You stared out at sea, legs stood apart, fur boots planted firmly against the wooden deck, fists on your hips and smelt the sea, which was a lot less fishy and foul than it had been by the docks, where stall owners tended to drop their fish guts.

Listening to the other two sailors talk was kind of boring. Apparently Yaks weren’t native to this part of the world. They were a far off import from a long time ago, which explained why Gobber and the other Vikings treated them like they were the ultimate cure-all.

“Aye, how abou’ we talk about something besides yak dung, you old frigate? I ‘prom I can’ ‘nit bear one more momen’ of- of-” The younger man spoke, voice tinged with a bit of roboticism and a definite note of disinterest.

The last you checked, he was quite gruffly doing his best to untangle the knotted fronts of an old, frayed net, probably rife with holes.

Everyone was a warrior, few got to be nothing besides that.

Berk’s close knit community kept anyone from really falling into poverty unless they sucked or were new, but the few fishermen here on Berk that were unlucky enough to end up poor tended to have heavier accents than everyone else, spending most of their pay on their dying ships, in contrast to some of the other boats, with hardy shiphands and large decorated, painted sides.

This one, the one you were on, was old and small but incredibly hardy, though it felt like it might sink down in still waters. As you heard, it did surprisingly well during a storm.

Family boats died hard, it seemed. And he was very insistent that that boat ran in his family.

It took a while for you to ascertain the knowledge that here, you were actually supposed to poop on a poop deck, not that you wanted to. It was more like you’d been shown how they did it which was very similar to just leaning their butt over the side railing and roughing it in front of everyone.

You did not enjoy that show.

You didn’t think anyone here was there for that boat trip. You found that very good.

You were at sea with two other sailors, an old man, large but frail as his boat, and a younger middle aged man who had very little interest in anything but the nets.

The sea was oddly still though still windy as you felt through your very casual tunic and trousers. You figured it would be a waste to wear more.

A thick pouch attached to your hip bounced against your waist as the ship rocked.

Today, you were a fisherman’s hired helping hand. It was a while since you’d helped on a ship. It was usually the poorer ones who couldn’t afford anyone hardier who pulled you up.

You were slightly pleased with it, though, as you raked across the sky with your eyes. Lunch was cheaper when you were part of the team catching it.

In the sky, you spotted the few birds brave enough to squeak and squeal and flip with dragons lurking around the clouds.

With a burst of enthusiasm, you waved up at them as they dotted the sky.

There were a few groups, not all clear enough for you to make out any more than a dot. And a little further back… There were what looked like the Riders.

You could make out the bright blur form of Stormfly and Astrid’s blonde head of hair on top. Behind her is who you thought were the twins.

You wondered where they were off to.

You eep-ed as a dot separated from the flock.

As the dot grew larger on the horizon, as you recognized the dark, swooping wings of the Night Fury and as it came closer, you realized, of course, that it was Hiccup and Toothless.

“Alr’gh, lass, You grab one end of the net and I’ll-” The old fisherman grumbled from behind, before cutting himself off, “By jove, what’s he want from ‘ere?”

His long, gray beard and ponytail shifted with the wind, and bald spot, which you presumed was caused prematurely a long time ago, half marred by a barely noticeable burn scar, slightly reflected the glare of the sun.

“Speak not of the Romans here, ol’ man,” The younger fisherman grumbled as you glanced back, his unevenly chopped, short brown hair blowing wildly as he limped and dragging his feet up behind him.

The old fishermen’s thin, threadbare brown fur tunic bollywood in the wind. It was patchy, something most Vikings on Berk could relate to but none would be bothered by besides the poorer, without the coin or resources to procure a new bit of fabric to replace.

Your own clothes were thin and not enough during the best of times.

You turned back up to the sky, nearly startled to see how far both Hiccup and Toothless had traveled in such little time, then backed up as they got nearer and nearer, quickly moving to compensate as they pul;led right up to the side.

The ship rocked dangerously as Toothless landed against the side, this fishing boat being a bit smaller than was typical, also positioned dangerously close to a set of rocks just barely peeking out of the water.

“Oi!” The old fisherman shouted angrily, as a spray of water rained down on them from above, just barely missing you, “Watch it, you-!”

“You watch i’, yae old man,” The brown haired fisherman said abruptly, scowling and fixing his accent and twisting his torso, sort of lanky but not nearly enough to be ousted from viking hood, dropping his net and coming over to cover the old man’s mouth, “Tha’s the Chief’s son.”

You winced, imagining his fishy breath over your own fingers, holding some pity for him though he didn’t look like he wanted or needed it.

Hiccup laughed awkwardly and winced, peering back at the rocks as Toothless sniffed around disinterestedly.

“We go’ no fish for ye, beast!” The old man yowled raspily, throwing off the younger man’s hand and shaking his fist.

Hiccup looked at the fisherman with a slight grimace though he didn’t say anything.

You blew a puff of air out into the ether, looking to the side and inhaling a new, fresh breath and feeling the lungs in your chest expand as you did.

These kinds of spats were not something you had a particular interest in.

Hiccup neither, it seemed.

“Hi?” He asked awkwardly, turning his attention away from them and looking down at you from where he was seated on Toothless, whose claws were digging into the railing, which you were sure was going to give the old fisherman an ulcer later.

“Hello,” You responded. You supposed that by now you should be feeling at least a little bit of Deja Vu but you really did not at all, “Where are you off to?”

“So, ah, how’s…?” Hiccup asked awkwardly, “Is now a bad time?”

You both stared back at the older fisherman who was now squabbling with the brown haired guy, who was busy holding him back, his arms hooked under the back of the old fisherman’s.

“It’s been… fine,” You said, “He’s kind of crazy, I think. Don’t mind it much.”

“Right…”

You heard a loud sniff as what must’ve been Toothless knocked over a small barrel on the other end of the ship, causing some weird-smelling liquid to spill over onto the deck.

“Shouldn’t they be doing better, with all the dragons nearby? You know…” Hiccup gentured down towards the head of his dragon, sniffing at a few closed baskets by the side of the boat, “...Fish?”

“No, ah,” You hummed, nodding to the dingy floorboards and the frayed everything; this vessel wasn’t even painted, a great deal smaller than the other ships, “There’s more fish now because of the dragons doing less hunting, which means an easier catch, food has to cost less in order to feed more and to sell and because most people can probably catch their own fish, and also this boat is kind of…”

You cleared your throat, shaking off the remnants of the fisherman’s accent, lingering along the edges of your voice.

You didn’t pick up on the whole thing until very, very recently but on the regular, you spoke in a way that was more formal than the rest of Berk.Of course, you knew you had an accent, but often you found that as you spent more time with the villagers, in an effort to be more polite, you tried to adapt the accents of the people you were speaking to in order to mask your own foreign one.

It helped, some.

“Right,” Hiccup said again, “We’re- we’re looking for Fireworms. The others and I. I should probably…”

“For Snotlout?” You asked.

You looked back and then up towards Hiccup again. They usually managed just fine without you, and it was an awfully calm day.

Would you leave them behind?

To be fair, if you stayed, you were sure to get an earful. So you didn’t feel bad about it at all.

“How did you know?” Hiccup asked.

You squinted.

Hiccup was positioned just so that the sun glared down from around him, which was a bit painful to your eyes.

“Well…” You started.

There wasn’t much the Riders did that had anything to do with the Jorgensons when Snotlout wasn’t involved and the ‘Louts had been particularly grabby recently. What wasn’t for them?

They took the island very seriously and themselves even more so as the ‘protectors of the island.��

From your interactions with the rest of the Jorgenson house and, more importantly, the head, you knew Spitelout was very rough on Snotlout.

Depending on the Jorgenson, they were either sort of wasteful or wasteless to an unreasonable degree, throwing things out before they could be fixed and using old, broken tools even after it became incredibly dangerous to do so, but they were also very rich compared to some of the other families on Berk so it didn’t really matter.

They had to have the best of everything in people and things, or something like that. Which usually left only crumbs for the rest of everybody.

You’d heard some of the women by the square complaining as you scoured over their crumbs and dry pickings.

You didn’t mind it. Berk was pretty first-come first-serve, anyways.

Until it came to dragons.

Everyone on Berk stuck to the typical types of dragons whenever they were forced to find a mount, not because they preferred it that way, though it wasn’t something you found to cause any dissent in particular.

“Gut feeling,” You shrugged, going with the easy explanation, “Do you need any help?”

It was difficult to find any type outside of a Dragon Training course, of course, those being a roster of the most common native dragons. The other kinds were a bit harder to stumble across. Any of the ‘exotic’ types of dragon mounts were something to be proud of, and proud of them they were, the few Vikings who had the time and resources to expend.

There were a few squabbles about it but nothing too major. Most Vikings were still a little dragon shy anyhow. The whole argument was kind of silly.

Having a dragon was about more than the type of dragon, anyways.

It didn’t matter much to you, a person without a dragon.

There was a fisherman who was quite proud of his exotic dragon- a Scauldron. He’d picked it up a little bit after the incident with the purple flowers.

It helped a lot with fishing.

“Well… Are you busy?” Hiccup asked, albeit a tad unsurely.

“Not particularly,” You said, staring back at the old fisherman, also a bit unsure.

Adventuring with Hiccup would make it easier to avoid the old fisherman, who, now that you thought about it, was a bit off and who you imagined was very close to blowing his top.

“Really?” Hiccup asked, looking a little guilty, eyes darting back towards the fishermen behind you.

He pointed a shaking hand towards you, spluttering messily as the brown haired Viking guy scrambled for some of the ropes along one of the poles along the back end of the ship, still not letting go of his arm.

“Yeah,” You said, beaming as Hiccup scooted forward, urging Toothless to turn around with his foot, causing the boat to rock a bit and you to back up, adjusting to the dragon as he swung wide.

Hiccup made a sheepish smile and offered you the space behind him on his saddle, though he kept his eyes on the fisherman behind.

You pretended you saw nothing. You thought the scene they were making resembled something out of the world’s blandest comedy show, or an old cartoon.

He paid pennies, anyway.

“Someone should be by with a Scauldron in case you need help,” You called back, “I heard the rainbow big ship was out today.”

“Not tha’ barrel! The other! Can’t you see the difference?” The old fisherman made a rude gesture and shouted as Toothless took the initiative to do a bit more exploring.

He shook free enough to grab something thick, dark and viscous from a wooden tankard to the side and throw it towards Toothless.

Hiccup shifted awkwardly as he responded, “I don't see the difference…?”

You yelped and jumped back and scrambled up on Toothless behind him as the glob landed right by your feet.

Looked like your refreshing day out at sea was over. You could always go fishing another day.

You tossed the fisherman back his coin, holding it between your fingers and flipping it to him with your thumb before he could say anything, shooting off a quick, “I’m sorry!”

He jumped down and grabbed for it, though the brown haired fisherman caught it with some minor exhaustion.

You turned away and lightly nudged Hiccup’s arm, hurting before the old fisherman could do something more crass. Like his bare bottom over the railing. Sure, you may have had to know the sight once, but it was still irritating. And gross.

Hiccup kicked Toothless quickly off and up into the sky. You could feel the wind bursting past your face, much more biting now that you were once again without your coat.

You rotated your shoulder slightly after you slipped into the saddle behind Hiccup, arms sore from all the rowing you did earlier, which was difficult considered your arms were clenched around his waist.

“Fireworm island?” You asked, “Which ones are Fireworms, again?”

“They’re the small orange glowy ones,” Hiccup spoke past the rushing wind, though it didn’t seem like he was particularly rushed, bumping your shoulder with his as he glanced back.

“I don’t think I’ve seen those yet,” You said as you locked your arms around his waist, Toothless moving at rocketing speeds.

“We’re heading back towards Berk?” You asked.

“Yeah. We were just- Well-” Hiccup struggled, “Recouping. Navigating. Splitting ground.”

“Splitting? What’s your-? You know.”

“I’m not- I left too early,” Hiccup said, embarrassedly at nearly a shout, “I was hoping you might know- Ah– But the- I know some of the fishermen used to use Fireworms as bait.”

He cut off then, but you got the gist of it.

“Why don’t we try a different island?” You asked, fighting against the wind as Hiccup and Toothless reoriented them all, nearly flipping over.

You imagined what Fishlegs would say; ‘There’s an island for that!’

It seemed like there was an island for everything. Was there one for Fireworms?

You wondered what Berk was the island for.

You didn’t need to be close friends to know for sure.

It was bare.

You pushed through another set of ferns, following quickly behind Hiccup as the two of you trudged through a thick set of trees.

You really hoped you hadn’t messed up and someone ended up dead, or something.

People would riot. Chase you off for sure.

You heard people talking about moving more into the forests where there were more resources and privacy, the only thing having kept them in the village being the dragons.

You’d have to take refuge.

Another dock would be nice, you thought.

You wondered if the volcano on Dragon island was still active. That would make for a good second island, if the dragons didn’t mind a few human visitors. Roommates. Exile-ees.

You figured they’d probably rather they be left alone, though.

“Would using Gel from another Nightmare work? Or is it like blood transfusions?” You asked as you ducked under another low-hanging branch.

You stepped over the gnarled roots of this tree quickly afterwards, the soles of your boots making an odd wet noise as it hit the damp undergrowth.

The two of you had just hit a pretty soggy spot in the undergrowth and you knew Hiccup was worried it might turn into peat.

You were close to suggesting that you head back and try another direction in the forest.

Said Hiccup looked at you oddly, brows cinched and raised as he tried to repeat your foreign modern words, “Blood transfusions?”

You puzzled over it for a moment, “Blood… exchange? Blood giving?”

“That…” Hiccup cringed, but he had the shadows of his idea face ghosting the corners of his expression. He was, also, probably wondering if it was just as unsanitary as it seemed, as a normally adjusted person should.

“It’s not as gross as it sounds, I promise.”

“Really?”

“I mean, everyone has different blood types, and you- Shouldn’t try it. Please don’t try it,” You said a bit quickly.

He didn’t have the medical equipment, at least not for blood.

It probably wasn’t safe anyways.

You hadn’t talked since before his Dad started asking you questions you didn’t want to think about. You refused to let it get awkward. Still, you hoped to find some Fireworms soon.

Toothless had run off earlier, chasing the likeness of a work into the trees. Hope was nearly lost.

Catching the worms was sort of difficult and the Fireworms had been sparse. You’d been out for what, thirty minutes? An hour?

You winced.

It was like trying to catch frogs with tweezers. How you imagined it, anyways.

You wondered if there were frogs here and if that was something Vikings did. You thought you saw a kid with a frog once. You wondered if Hiccup wanted to go catch frogs, and if he was the type of kid to have tried to do that.

Maybe with friends? You weren’t sure.

He seemed a little solitary before the Red Death, though not by choice or any sort of personality quirk, at least nothing you would clock from the modern day.

You were afraid, though, that his only friend was Gobber which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, in and of itself.

“Toothless!” Hiccup tried then, calling again, cupping his hands around his mouth.

You glanced down at his leg, which you noticed just then had sunk a bit deep into the mud. It was going to get caked later.

“No dice?” You asked, pulling yourself up a step.

“No dice,” Hiccup shook his head. He tried to hide it, but he was looking kind of glum. Which was understandable.

You squinted ahead as the way forward got lighter, blinking placidly into the treeline.

Maybe you wouldn't have to turn back after all.

You kept moving forwards.

Hiccup had a sort of stormy, contemplative expression on his face a for a while, and so you’d given him the space to think.

You weren’t particularly pressed to speak yourself, in a mood that made you just as happy with silence as exercising your vocal cords.

“Spitelout… Snotlout hadn’t said anything but I’m sure he wants him to- …” Hiccup spoke, after a while.

“Kill Hookfang?” You asked.

You likened it -the idea- to euthanasia for older animals or animals that were too sick to function anymore. But you had the inkling that that’s not exactly the type of person Spitelout was.

It was still unreasonable, though. You hadn’t exhausted half your resources yet, you thought. If there was still a chance you’d be able to save Snotlout’s dragon…

You felt sort of bad for Hiccup.

Dragons were his thing, after all. “I should have told the others where I was going,” Hiccup sighed, gesturing with his hands as he stopped suddenly, then letting them fall until they slapped soundlessly against his legs, “I can’t believe I messed up this bad.”

You moved up beside him to see his face, lips pursed into a thin line as he looked exhaustively up into the thin pin-ey canopy above, “It’s not that bad.”

He looked at you guiltily then, though you had the feeling he wasn’t looking at you with guilt any more than you being the cause of it. Did he regret stopping by to pick you up? Coming to another island?

“It’s fine,” You tried, before adding hopefully, comforting yourself a little bit, “We don’t know if it’s a mistake, yet. These things happen, and you never know.”

“My Dad is going to kick me out and I’m going to have to spend every night from now on until I die eating alone.” Hiccup spoke dryly.

“I’ll be here,” You suggested helpfully, “And if you get kicked off I promise I’ll visit with things. So you don’t drop. Like fresh water and probably beads, maybe.”

“Well, thanks, I bet they’ll taste great mixed up with a plate of loneliness and self-loathing,” Hiccup said sarcastically, waving his hands at his sides, before pausing, as if remembering who he was talking to.

You snorted, a little bit surprised.

He’d not spent so much time being any more sarcastic than awkward whenever you were together.

You thought it was a little bit funny and a little bit worrying. If things went wrong it was probably your fault, anyways. For messing with the plot.

Had you really, though? The thought came unbidden. What had you done besides just existing? That was a guiltless action.

Had that been all you had been doing?

You internally shook, brushing thoughts of those things away.

You didn’t want to do any pondering.

“You’d be fine, minus the indigestion, probably. You have a lot of things going for you,” You nodded.

“My sharp intellect and dashing charm,” Hiccup said, keeping his elbows close to his sides and gesturing to himself emphatically in a way that was incredibly sarcastic and slightly gawky.

“Yes,” You said firmly as you nodded besides, your side brushing fully past another fern as you went, “I mean, you’re a good inventor. I can’t name another one on the island- really, I’m sure I heard your Dad talking about it the other day- ‘I could leave that boy alone for a week and he’d have me a city built on a whole other island by the time I got back.’”

You didn’t talk to many people so you mostly kept that bit to yourself.

“Wow, that’s…”

“A bit crazy?” You hummed, lifting your boot and jumping back slightly as you stepped into a particularly wet, boggy patch of grass.

“A lot of pressure,” Hiccup gestured aimlessly with his hands again, the glass beads threaded into the twine around his wrists twinkling slightly as he rotated them.

He seemed kind of crushed, suddenly.

“I’m really not that good at… Prioritizing, I guess. Anything. All of this.”

They were yellow today. Yellow and light green. You hadn’t noticed, too focused on staying atop Toothless in the sky earlier and on the fauna after you’d landed.

You looked down as you stepped up onto a short dry patch, kicking aside a few pebbles with your muddied boot toes and grabbing a hold of a thin branch, sticking up out of a log as you pulled yourself over.

“I hope he didn’t mean it literally,” You said, shrugging. But then you immediately felt guilty for it, glancing up from your feet back to Hiccup, “It’s- I mean, things happen-And- You don’t have to be good at it. I mean, you’re doing it. Who else is going to?”

You stopped for a moment and took that time to let out a large exhale.

You felt like you fumbled the conversation before you even moved your mouth again.

“Right,” Hiccup looked at you unsurely before peering around the underbrush, “I guess. But everyone expects me to. I shouldn’t be saying this, but I don’t- …know how.”

Hiccup grimaced, looking like he had a heavy set of weights on his shoulders. Which, he might’ve.

You hadn’t had any in a while besides the need for food and board.

It made you wonder. Did you expect anything from Hiccup?

“Can you…? Gods, do you even know what I’m talking about?” Hiccup continued, burying his face in his hands, throwing his head up exaggeratedly as he rubbed his face, one hand lingering longer than the other.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he did, “I didn’t mean-...”

He sighed heavily, defeated.

You looked at him for a moment, halted.

You ignored how your feet were sore and your back was starting to hurt from spending the whole day on your feet. This was no place to sit and rest, however, not even for a minute. You wouldn’t stop for more than a minute.

Unless you wanted to be wet, that was. And froggy.

Way back on Berk, you were expected to take on responsibility a lot earlier than you were expected to in modern times so you guessed, in a way, you got it. And you wanted to tell him so.

You felt kind of odd about it all.

Any direction you had you’d surely misplaced. Any path you knew was probably derailed- even this conversation you were sure wasn’t supposed to have happened.

“I kind of know?” You said, “I get it, I mean. I haven’t been here for everything, but, you know, I’ve seen a lot. I don’t really have any good advice for you, though.”

You watched Hiccup slump slightly, grimacing as you spoke, feeling as if you’d failed some sort of test.

Who were you to ask for anything, really?

There was one thing you could give him, though. But similar to your own sleeves and patchy boots, which you liked a lot, you weren’t sure if it would count for much.

“-And I’m sorry,” You said, before shrugging, not giving Hiccup a moment to think before you spoke again, “But I don’t expect anything you don’t want to give. Maybe, it would be hypocritical of me to ask for anything more than you are- I mean, I’m a delivery girl. I guess you know all that already, though, right? That you’re nice all on your own?”

You ended in a question, watching Hiccup as he watched you, searching for any more reaction. His reaction. Had you missed the mark? Was there even a mark to miss?

You hoped not.

“Am I?” Hiccup asked, looking at you incredulously.

He gave you a wide-eyed look, some emotion you couldn’t name plastered all across his face.

You weren’t exactly an authority on the subject. You had been here, in the Archipelago, for a long while, but there were still many, many things you weren’t privy to.

“I think you are?” You took the lead by a few feet, urging Hiccup to subconsciously follow you forwards, hurrying the both of you up, “I don’t know what-I mean… Are you? I can’t really say. I’m not- the judge of- I think, honestly, the only one who can say what you are is- well. You? And you’d know better than me what you can handle. I don’t mind it, whatever it is you can or can’t do, I guess.”

You gestured back towards him as you glanced and turned away without actually looking, face heating up with an extra amount of embarrassment.

You didn’t want to consider the idea that maybe you’d messed up, so you opted to ignore all of it. The idea that the whole conversation had happened in the first place.

Really, he was the main character. Why wouldn’t he know?

“I- ah, ph-what? I mean… Yeah?” Hiccup sputtered, following you as you through the forest around you, trying not to flinch as the water seeped through the bottom of your boots.

You shrug-nodded awkwardly, still staring ahead.

Thankfully, the damp earth began to grow firmer and the ferns grew thicker as you spoke until just by what you assumed to be the end of the treeline, where the sun shone brightest.

You pointed ahead, “I think there’s an opening up there.”

As you got closer, hurriedly trudging along though not too fast for Hiccup to keep up, you felt the beginnings and wisps of sea in the air.

You felt the beginnings of a rumble in your stomach as your anticipation grew.

So you had a little bit of an ulterior motive too, for rushing the two of you along. You were a little bit hungry, and you also had had no breakfast at all. A break would do Hiccup well too, you were sure.

You kept moving, the two of you in silence, until, finally, stepping past a particularly large front, framed by light that was almost glaring, considerably brighter than the kind you’d been subjected to in the smoggy underbrush-

The two of you had just broken out of the forest into a clear cliffside.

It was probably not too far away from where you’d initially landed. Geometric rock columns lined the cliffs’ edge, making the ground look almost like tiles, though some bits were slightly elevated over others.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“Look, how about we take a break? I have to… I have to figure out how we’re going to get back,” Hiccup looked back, in a way you imagined was exhaustive, into the trees, most likely thinking of Toothless. Yeah, that was a problem.

You were glad he said it first.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless #fem reader #female reader

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adrift-in-thyme · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 4: "I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes" + "You in there?"

Read on Ao3

- Wind & Warriors

- Summary: Wind is forced to fight a malice-possessed Warriors

CW for possession, blood and injury, and mild body horror

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

Wind has seen Warriors in many different states. He has seen him pale and haggard from stress and exhaustion, ashen and white-faced from deep wounds. He has seen his eyes crinkle with laughter and his expression fall as he cries. He has seen him angry and joyful, heartbroken and terrified.

But never has he seen him like this.

The knight stands before him, wavering unsteadily on his feet. One half of his face is pale – too pale – and his eye shines abnormally bright from within it. But the other half is coated in a mass of sticky-looking purple-black goo. It clings to him like a mask, burrowing beneath his eye socket. The usual Hylian blue of his eye has turned to black and his pupil is a golden, cat-like slit rimmed in crimson.

The purple stuff travels down his body from there. It trails along the curve of his neck, spreading around his chest, creeping across his abdomen, traveling down to wind about his left leg. It gurgles as he takes a stumbling step forward.

“What’s the matter, sailor?” He grins, cracked lips pulling back to reveal crimson-tinged teeth. “Do you not like this new version of me?”

Wind takes a step back. His sword feels heavy in his hand.

“You-you’re not you, Warriors.”

Even saying it makes his throat feel tight. But he has to. He has to speak the truth.

When the Captain had gone missing last week, he had feared the worst. They all had. And when Wolfie had tracked his scent to Hyrule Castle, the mood had only dipped further.

(“No one goes in this place, anymore,” Wild had said, gazing at the castle with something akin to bitterness. “Not unless they don’t want to come out. There’s malice hidden in the walls. Zelda and I haven’t gotten around to cleaning it up yet.”)

But even that hadn’t completely dashed Wind’s hopes. Warriors was tough – is tough – and he had thought…well, he had thought he would find him when he had walked into the castle. Injured maybe, and in need of help, but not like this. Not unrecognizable, a monster in the form of his brother.

That is who he must face, however. And now with the rest of the heroes locked outside, he is left to face him alone.

“You’ve gotta fight it,” he pleads as Warriors comes steadily closer. “I know you can do it! You’ve just gotta try!”

“Try?” Warriors laughs and the sound seems to echo off of the stone walls. “There is nothing to try. This is what I am now, and I am better for it.”

He raises his sword. His breathing is haggard, every inhale sharp. Wind can’t say he’s afraid of him…not truly, not when he knows there is still a part of him, hidden deep within that is the Warriors he knows and loves. But when the goo begins traveling along the floor toward him, he can’t help the way his heart leaps into his throat.

“I was a servant of the goddess for so long,” Warriors continues, his voice hoarse and crackling. “I thought she gave me purpose, made me strong. But now I see that that was all a lie.”

Wind swallows. He can feel the tension in the air, building up for the knight’s next words.

“Why would I serve her, when I could have the ability to resurrect one infinitely more powerful?

“Ganondorf.”

He had known it was coming, but the name hits him like a massive wave anyway. Wind takes a step forward now, anger and fear coursing through him.

“He’s the bad guy and you know it!” He cries. “I know you do!”

Warriors only chuckles, the sound grating and sinister. “You’re foolish, just as I was. But you’ll see soon enough.” He grins, eyes glinting. “Or you’ll die.”

“Sailor!” Twilight calls from behind him. His words mingle with the curses and sounds of frustration of the other heroes. Their voices are muffled by the thick walls that stand between them and Wind, but he can hear them well enough. “What’s going on in there? Are you okay?”

Wind drags in a breath. His palms are sweaty, his hands trembling.

“Wars is…he-he’s covered in purple gooey stuff.”

“He’s what?!” It’s Wild now, panic sharp in his tone. “Sailor, is he acting weird?”

“Yeah.” His voice trembles and he clears his throat. “He…I-I think he’s possessed.”

“Possessed?” He can hear Legend groan. “That’s just our luck.”

“I’m going to find another way in,” Time says, voice brittle as ice. “You all remain here and aid the sailor any way you can.”

“There is no other—” Wild cuts off with an audible sigh. Wind guesses the old man went off before he could finish.

“He’s still fighting,” Wind says, even as he steps back again, trying vainly to keep some distance between him and the slowly advancing captain. “There’s gotta be a way we can help him.”

“There is,” Wild replies. “Listen, Wind, he’s trapped in malice. So, you’ve got to shoot the…”

A piercing scream drowns out his next words. Wind startles, grip on his sword tightening in preparation. But Warriors has stopped short and the malice with him.

He is curled in on himself now, hunched figure looking so much weaker and more broken than seconds before. He presses a hand to his face and instantly the goop oozes over his fingertips. The scream trails off into a moan that quickly turns into a croaked word.

“Wind?”

The sailor inhales sharply at the sound. Hope leaps inside his chest.

“It’s me, captain! I’m here! We-we’re all here! We’re gonna save you!”

Warriors falls to his knees. Wind can’t help but take a step towards him. But then the captain lifts his head and there is such anguish in his expression that it breaks his heart. He comes to a halt, throat dangerously tight.

“Wind….” The word is softer this time, more breathed than spoken. “I-I can’t…”

“You can!” Wind takes another step, ignoring the warning signals blaring in his brain. This is his brother and he’s not about to abandon him now. “I believe in you, Wars! You can fight this!”

The edges of Warriors’ mouth lift just slightly. A tear rolls down his cheek.

“Sailor,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry…please…run.”

There’s a beat of silence. And then, he begins to cackle.

He rises on shaky legs, stumbling upward like a redead rising to consume its prey. He moves forward, every step slow and jerky. The malice spreads out like a carpet before him.

Warriors grins, all sharp teeth and deathly pale skin. Blood dribbles from his mouth.

“You thought you’d won, didn’t you? You thought you wouldn’t have to fight me. So sorry to disappoint.”

He flicks a finger and suddenly the malice speeds up. It zips toward Wind in a blur of violet and black and bits of crimson. His heart jumps into his throat and he leaps sideways. Not a moment too soon either. The malice collides with the wall behind him with a sickening splat.

Wind cringes.

Is that how it had attacked Warriors? He wonders. But there isn’t time to imagine how such a horrifying fate had befallen his brother. Because Warriors whirls with startling speed and strikes again.

This time Wind is better prepared. He drops into a somersault. The malice rushes past his ear, so close he’s almost sure it’s going to hit the tip. But then he’s up again, just behind Warriors. Taking a deep breath he raises his sword and brings it down on the mass of malice that trails in the captain’s wake.

The hit does nothing.

The malice retracts, then with an unholy screech reaches for him. Wind’s eyes go wide.

He dodges, shoulder colliding painfully with the wall. Warriors turns to him with a leering smirk. Wind is unpleasantly reminded of the little imps in the Forbidden Fortress — the ones that poked at his heels and chased him up the walls. The thought makes him sick.

Warriors isn’t supposed to look like that.

“You’re fast,” the captain says. “And skilled. No wonder I loved you. At first I wasn’t sure how I could’ve cared about some kid. But now I know. You were useful.”

Wind swallows, hard. The words hurt him more than he’d like to admit.

It’s not true. He doesn’t mean it, he tells himself, firmly. It’s the malice talking, not him.

Warriors leaps toward him again, this time bringing his sword slicing through the air. Wind is forced to hurl himself sideways to escape being pinned against the wall.

But he doesn’t have time to even catch his breath. Malice surges toward him across the ground, grasping his feet even as he turns. He struggles, fear running hot in his veins. Its grip is strong, however, and it holds him firmly in place.

Warriors stalks up to him. Wind forces himself to meet his crazed stare.

“You can’t run anymore,” he sneers. “Fight me or die. There are no other options.” He steps closer, hand outstretched inches from Wind’s face. Malice encases his fingertips. “Unless, of course, you would rather join me.”

He tilts his head and the way the light falls upon the still-human side of his face almost makes him look like himself again. Almost.

“You could help me resurrect him. You could help me bring an end to this world.”

Tears run in rivulets down his cheeks. He tastes salt. But Wind curls his hand into fist.

“I won’t help you. Not like that. I’m gonna set you free!”

Warriors straightens, sword clasped tightly in his fist. The eye of malice narrows, as though seeking prey. Its contrasting array of colors seem to gleam.

With it so close, Wind finds it hard to take his gaze off of it. His hands almost itch to lose an arrow into it like he has done in so many dungeons.

Legend’s voice echoes in his mind, colored with peals of laughter.

“Always shoot the eye.”

Then, comes Wild, tone panicked but determined, muffled by the thick walls, cut off by Warriors’ cries of agony.

“You’ve gotta shoot the…”

Wind inhales sharply.

That’s it!

There is still hope, after all.

The malice continues to climb sluggishly up his body, weighing him down. The darkness that emanated off of it is suffocating. Lifting a shaking hand, Warriors aims the tip of his sword at his heart.

“Then you’ll die.”

Wind takes a deep breath. Swiping at his tears, he steels himself. Hand heavy, heart in his throat, he lifts his sword.

Please let this work, he prays.

And then, he plunges the weapon into Warriors’ face.

There is a nauseating squish, a skull-splitting scream, and Warriors crumples. The malice around Wind’s legs dissipates in a cloud of dark violet specks. The goop on and around Warriors follows suit seconds later.

Instantly, Wind is on his knees, sword sheathed, hands on Warriors’ shoulder. He turns the knight over, choking out his name as the windows and doorways of the Sanctum slide open and the sunlight streams in. It illuminates the captain’s — now completely human — face in blessed light.

Distantly, Wind registers that the others are racing into the room, calling his and Warriors’ names, punctuated with panicked questions. But he can’t bring himself to reply.

Warriors’ eyes are closed now, his freed body still.

…Too still. Wind watches his chest, waiting for it to rise.

“Come on.” Tears spring to his eyes anew and roll down his cheeks, tracing the paths of their predecessors. He doesn’t bother to wipe them away. “Come on, Warriors, wake up.”

Please don’t be dead.

Time is dropping down beside him now, already uncorking a bottle. A fairy flies free and heads straight for the fallen captain. Wind watches as she begins to whirl around him.

Her dance seems to last forever. But then, at last, she zips away and disappears.

Wind leans forward, holding his breath.

Abruptly, Warriors jolts upward coughing and gasping. He looks around the room, wildly, eyes wide and panicked. But they are blue as the Great Sea and full of the life he knows so well and Wind can feel nothing in that moment except joy and relief.

“Warriors!” He wraps his arms tightly around the captain, half to support him and half to cling to him. To remind himself he is still here, alive. That he is safe.

Warriors stiffens and pulls back, eyes roaming his body.

“Sailor,” he croaks in the voice that is so unmistakably his. “Are-are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

With a shaky smile, Wind drags him back into the hug. “I’m fine! Promise! Don’t worry about me.”

Warriors makes a sound like a half-sob. He shudders.

“I-I’m so, so sorry.”

The sailor shakes his head, viciously. “Don’t be! It wasn’t you.”

“But I should have…I could have fought…”

Time leans forward, setting a hand on both of their shoulders. Emboldened by his presence Wind sucks in a breath, nearly choking on tears.

“You did fight, captain! I saw you. You-you fought all you could!”

“There is nothing else you could’ve done,” Time adds, quietly. “The champion hasn’t known anyone to resist the pull of such evil, save for Flora. And it seems you continued to battle it for quite some time.”

Warriors doesn’t reply. He slumps, defeated, and Wind holds him tighter.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. I-I was really worried.” He raises his head to look Warriors in the face. “You…are okay now, right?”

There are tears running down Warriors’ pale cheeks, blood trickling from his mouth and various wounds Wind can see now that the malice is gone. But he cracks a broken smile.

“Yeah, I’m alright now, sailor. All thanks to you.”

#whumptober2023 #no.4 #“i see the danger it's written there in your eyes”#“you in there?”#linkeduniverse #fic #injury tw #blood tw #possession tw #mild body horror #trin writes #lu warriors #lu wind #angst #hurt/comfort #whump #it's finally here!!#i've been fighting to get this thing posted since this morning #but i'm sooo excited to get to share it with you now

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cannebady · 1 year

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This is a horny and angsty steddyhands thought but like

What if Izzy starts realizing his mistake. Edward gets more and more reckless as time goes on. Becomes dangerously withdrawn and unpredictable, as much of a liability as Bonnet at his worst, and Izzy isn't an idiot. No amount of hero worship can mask the bile-tinged loneliness in Ed, the hole that lives in him now that rum and violence, and chaos, and even Izzy himself can't fill. So, with regret, he leaves Jim in charge and goes out to find Stede Fucking Bonnet himself because he has to atone, fix what he broke, or Izzy fears Edward will be lost to the ages before his time.

He finds Bonnet, along with his playthings, just off the coast of Nassau over a week after setting out. They somehow commandeered a small ship of their own, which even Izzy has to admit is impressive considering their lack of weapons and ability, and have been making their way towards The Revenge as fast as they could, stopping port to port to see if they can find word of their last known whereabouts. Bonnet shows him the logs, surprisingly well kept, and Izzy realizes that Bonnet would've caught up with them months ago had Ed's erratic moods and the bounty on his head not led them on a ludicrous goose chase across the ocean. For the first time he wonders if there might be more to Stede Bonnet than he initially thought. It certainly wouldn't be the first thing Izzy was wrong about.

They go to Stede's quarters and he offers Izzy a drink. It isn't served in the china that formerly occupied the Captain's quarters on The Revenge, but it's nicer than any pirate, hell any sailor, should have aboard a vessel, but the brandy is good so who's he to complain? He's about to try and figure out why Bonnet fucked off instead of coming back with Edward, and attempt to do so while not shooting daggers at the entitled shit that got Edward's love and tossed it away like nothing, like it wasn't the only thing Izzy's ever wanted for himself. Anyway, he doesn't have to because Bonnet just starts talking, Izzy should've figured he would, and somehow he pours out his heart to Izzy about his kiss with Ed (damn him), the plan to run away together (fucking Edward and his fucking plans), the twat from the British Navy, and the spectacularly bad bout of decision making followed by some fuckery that Ed will absolutely love hearing about once he's stopped being furious. Which he will be, but at this point with Bonnet or himself, or both is up to the fates and Ed's temper. But Bonnet is sincere if nothing else, and he gave away all of his wealth which Izzy thinks is very stupid but Ed will think is romantic, so he'll probably forgive the ponce and then they'll live happily ever after and Izzy can fade into obscurity. Try as he might to disagree, it was always going to end that way.

Fine. It's fucking fine.

Over the next several weeks, Izzy realizes that Stede has gained some decent skills, perhaps not as a pirate but as a solid enough sailor. He doesn't like admitting it and he still thinks he's mostly useless, but he is functionally less useless than he used to be which is probably the reason they didn't all die before Izzy found them. Reluctantly, he starts to view Stede as a partner in his mission rather than a mark.

Then Stede asks him to have dinner in his quarters or help him chart their course and, surprising himself above all, he agrees easily. It turns out that they can even work well together if Izzy can put the fact that he hates him out of his mind. It's getting easier to do with time. So easy, in fact, that Izzy's doing it most of the time without conscious thought.

It's the lack of conscious though, Izzy thinks, that leads to some of his worst ever decision making and that really is saying something.

There's rum involved, of course, but there's also gin and Izzy will never admit it but gin is the spirit that makes him loose and lascivious. It has him thinking that Stede's not the worst conversationalist. Thinking that he's actually a fucking blast once they're both deep in their cups. He's a natural story teller with a dry, downright bitchy, sense of humor and Izzy's loose and feeling cautiously optimistic that he can fix Edward, and then the topic of Edward comes up and Izzy doesn't have the forethought to school his expression and Stede wouldn't think to.

"So you kissed him?" Izzy asks, ignoring slurring that definitely did not happen.

"I did. It was wonderful." Stede replies, eyes closed and smiling like it's his best memory. It probably is.

"Lucky bastard. I never got the chance. Wasn't like that with us." Izzy replies. It's not even snarky if he's honest. Maybe just a touch lovelorn.

"S'ridiculous! You've, well, you must have?" Stede slurs.

"Must've what?" From far away Izzy hears a pounding and it takes him a moment to realize it's his heart.

"Been together?" Stede replies and looks him dead in the eye.

Ah. So Stede isn't totally oblivious.

"Nothin' as poncey as 'being together'. We fucked plenty but I'd have remembered kissing him." Izzy's being awful fucking honest.

But he's also looking at Stede. Looking at the way his cheeks redden and heat at even the concept of Ed and Fucking in the same sentence. It's sweet. There's a long-dormant part of Izzy, one that went into hibernation when he met Ed at the tender age of nineteen, that wants to claim that expression for himself. Wants to be the one who caused it.

It's the tail end of that thought that makes him ask a woefully fucking stupid question that catalyzes the whole damn string of bullshit events that follow.

First he asks, "So, have you ever fucked a man?" to which Stede chokes and blushes further, effectively answering the question.

Izzy's sitting up and in Stede's face faster than his gin-addled body should be able to move.

His hand grips the collar of Stede's simple linen shirt, much without his permission, and his mouth takes the cue to say, "Do you want to?"

And then it's a flurry of movement, of Izzy straddling Stede's lap, both fumbling their breeches open, and finally hiding his head in the crook of Stede's neck while he strokes them off together.

Stede's moaning like he's getting paid for it and that gets Izzy hot like nothing else, and he's biting bruises into the tender flesh of Stede's neck and fuck this isn't going to last long at all.

He knows that Stede is fucking him as a replacement for Ed. He may well be fucking Stede just to get under Ed's skin, just to say he got there first, tasted the forbidden fruit and sullied it before Ed ever got the chance.

A bigger part of him thinks that he's trying to get as close to what Ed loves as possible. It's the closest he'll ever come to having that love for himself.

Either way, Stede is hurtling towards his finish, throbbing and thick and blood hot in Izzy's hand.

"Go on, come for me like you want to come for him," Izzy growls and Stede whines and comes almost on command.

Fuck. Fuck, that's fucking hot. Izzy follows moments later, silent as he always is, but biting into Stede's shoulder. It's only now that he realizes that Stede had one hand on his back and the other in his hair. It's more intimate than he's prepared for.

They don't speak about it. They disentangle, get dressed, and go their separate ways for the night without speaking another word.

They don't talk about it the next day, or the day after that, or even after it happens again a couple of days later.

They don't talk about the fact that they're trying to fuck Ed through each other and Izzy definitely doesn't talk about the fact that he's started to want Stede in his own right.

He wants to kiss him and feel what Ed did. He wants to claim him for himself. He wants both and nothing and everything all at once.

They don't talk about it when it keeps happening, so often that crew is catching on. They don't even talk about it during, with Izzy resolutely keeping his face turned into Stede's neck or chest or anywhere that he won't see what's happening. Wanting things for himself has never been part of Izzy's game but fuck does he want this and he can't have it, no matter what.

It's fine. Fuck, even if it isn't, it's fine.

It's the beginning of the end. Stede's got him pressed against a wall, rutting against each other with abandon, when it all falls apart. Izzy was desperate and made the mistake of making eye contact with Stede in the galley. They didn't even make it back to Stede's quarters before they were pressed together for all they're worth.

Something feels different, but he can't parse it out through the feeling of Stede's hand stroking him off, or the feel of Stede's arse in his palms, or the fact that Stede's cock is pressed so tightly against him, still trapped in linen, that he can feel it like a brand on his hip. It feels fucking right and Izzy wants more.

Suddenly, Stede's speaking and it's a shocking enough deviation from the norm that Izzy can't even process the words for what they are for a moment.

"Izzy, Israel, please let me," he's repeating into Izzy's ear.

His name. Stede said his name. He's been laboring under the assumption that Stede is picturing Ed during their trysts. No matter if Izzy had stopped doing that after the first go around. No matter that Izzy sometimes got himself off to the fantasy of Stede telling him he wanted him just as he is.

To have it happen? Izzy's unprepared. He's also unprepared for having to rebuff someone who has their hand nestled so sweetly against his cock that it almost hurts from the pleasure. Because he can't have Stede. Ed already staked his claim and this whole fucking plan was for him to fix Ed, not fuck the love of his life. Not steal him away, even if that's what Izzy wants to do because he's a pirate and he's not used to not taking what he wants. He is used to sacrificing for Ed, though, so he'll do it, even if it kills him.

"Can't," he grunts, "We can't. Ed-" he can't continue because Stede started kissing up his neck, following the lines of the swallow tattoo, and he's moving up, closer and closer to his jaw and fuck what he'd give for a kiss, a real one.

He won't be strong enough to call it off after that.

He uses the rest of his strength to grab Stede's biceps (and good fuck did all that rowing do wonders, fuck, fuck, fuck) and push him back. His hair is wild from Izzy's hands and he looks desperate and fuck is it a good look.

"You're Ed's, I can't." Izzy grits out.

"But I want," Stede starts and goes to angle for Izzy's mouth and fuck this is going to fucking kill him.

"Save it for Ed, yeah? I'm a poor substitute." He replies and shuffles out from between Stede and the wall.

He doesn't look back. He can't see the look of agreement and understanding on his face. It's one act of self preservation in a maelstrom of sacrifice. He won't acknowledge the tears that want to fall or the rage at how unfair it is that he'd fall in something with two people who wanted each other and not him.

If he had looked back, he would've seen a look of pure heartbreak on Stede's face.

Instead, they both go to their separate chambers and wonder how they're going to work this out.

On the horizon, a familiar flag comes into view.

#Pre-steddyhands #Izzy hands #Stede Bonnet #Stizzy #Ofmd ficlet #Our flag means death fic #ofmd #my fic #edward teach #blackbeard #ofmd fic #Steddyhands is endgame obviously #Because Stede and Ed are in love #But so are Ed and izzy #And now so are Stede and Izzy although they don't know how to admit it #Steddyhands

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