#something about him facing away from the viewer makes it seem so casual and relaxed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bubblyhoney · 3 years

Note

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

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awakeshedreams · 3 years

Text

sugar and spice ( 2 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school’s resident bad boy…. Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don’t like don’t read XD

wordcount : 3k

a/n: honestly overwhelming response for the first part. thank you so much 💜💜💜😳

here's the second.

somehow, this took up a new genre for itself while editing and became sort of a bit enemies to friends to partners in sin.

that is to say, I have a template for this but this could go any ( dirty ) way.

let me know if you like this and are curious to know how things play out.

also, spot the cameo. it's so dumb but still. I couldn't think of anything else.

enjoy.

1 2

Paranoia was an old friend of yours.

Very real, very scary and not very nice to you, your peace of mind or your tested soul.

In your head, you already played out a million different ways the image you’d spent years building could come falling apart.

All because of him. Jeon Jungkook.

Though much to your surprise and fortune- he didn’t tell anyone.

You spent the entire weekend fretting over nothing.

It was almost like none of it ever happened.

Like your parents weren't about to tie the knot soon. Like you weren’t about to become step siblings.

Like he didn't walk in on his said step sister to be masturbating in front of a camera.

In the aftermath of that inexplicably humiliating incident, you had to make up some dumb excuse to satiate your viewers for ending the stream so abruptly.

It was your cat they heard speaking, you told them.

Cats don’t speak of course, certainly not in a deep baritone. But they were effectively distracted by the string of full nudes you posted soon after that.

Those few accusatory comments saying that you did have a boyfriend after all were buried by those coming from very horny people who were over the moon about the little apology gift.

That was out of the way, but you had a more pressing matter at hand.

That night, Jungkook had walked out after saying what he had to say without another word, leaving you feeling stunned and oddly cold.

It was like all the heat in your body just ceased to exist the moment he closed the door behind him and left you there all on your own. You didn’t even get to finish but that was beside the point.

The point was, you thought that meant like with many other things, and as people should since this was a free world, he didn’t give a shit what you did with your free time or your body.

But as the days progressed, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were gravely mistaken.

Because contrary to that, he seemed to be up to something.

These days, he came around very often. Completely unprovoked and on his own accord.

It didn’t help that your mom loved having him around and feeding him.

Sometimes he was there for lunch after school. Other times he was there to fucking read the books in the study.

It was all ridiculous and quite honestly it was starting to get on your fraying nerves.

He didn’t even live there! You grumbled in pure frustration internally every time your mom asked you to add an extra plate for him on the dining table. This was your place!

Intentional or not he seemed to just love spending his time at your house for some reason.

But that just wouldn’t do.

The thing was you didn't know how to tell him you’d like to have the peace of mind he’d robbed you of by being all up in your living space every other day back.

He couldn’t just keep coming around.

Things were awkward enough without you having to see him often so already in between fleeting glimpses at school and lingering glances over the occasional dinner.

He might have been able to play it cool because it didn’t matter to him but this was a big deal for you.

He knew your secret and what else were you to do but be on edge and fidgety around him even though it seemed like he wouldn’t say a word of it?

But in the end, you couldn’t voice out your concerns. Not to him and certainly not to your mom.

So you were stuck here.

In between a massive rock and a very hard place.

Forced to endure even though you really felt like you’d been pushed past your limit.

Because he was there all the time.

For the most random reasons doing the most random things at the most random places at the most random time.

One time he had been casually listening to music while smoking by the pool and stroking the strings of his damned, matte black guitar.

You had been so stressed from all the work at school with the elections for new committee members amongst the juniors coming up so you thought to go for a swim to relax your self.

You honestly thought no one was around.

It was a Wednesday at noon so your mother was at lunch with some friends from high school. Plus, in the back of your mind, you’d reasoned that Jungkook usually only ever came over when she was around.

So you put on your best little bikini, grabbed a floatie and a soft drink and you went out.

Only to pause when you saw him sitting on one of the white lounging chairs, just looking at you with his earphones on, fingers having stilled mid strumming with a soft veil of smoke over his face.

You didn’t need to think twice to turn back.

There had been something about how his heavy lidded gaze took you in through the smoke as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side that made you step back and quickly go back in.

You felt yourself get impossibly hotter when you realized you were probably giving him an eyeful of your poorly covered ass in motion.

You knew he was looking. You could feel his stare. Heavy. Intent. Dark. Swirling.

Like when he'd walked in on you.

You were hot and bothered the entire day.

In the end you couldn’t get anything productive done with a straight mind. And it was all his fault.

It took you about two weeks to crack.

That particular evening you were decided on telling your mom about this dilemma you were in.

Coincidentally, your mom had gone and invited him and his dad over for dinner.

Great. Just great.

You had no choice but to deeply consider the possibility of having to spill the beans another time.

Because choosing now to tell your mom meant you would probably need to tell his dad as well since they were attached at the hip every time he came over.

But no, you wouldn’t expose him in front of his father too. You weren’t cruel. Also you didn’t need the school's menace resenting you for making his strict, uptight dad turn on him.

If he didn’t have a reason to expose you before, he certainly would have one if things spiraled out that way.

So you bit your bitter tongue.

This time around, dinner was a more relaxed affair.

The weather was nice so your mom decided on a barbeque at your back yard.

This meant you wore a flowy sun dress like your mom did and he wore a loose navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up and some black casual beach shorts.

His tattoos were on full display.

You stared.

You were only distracted by them and how the patterns dance on his skin when his muscles flex as he flips whatever he is cooking on the fire because she’s never seen them in full before, you strongly reasoned.

Even with his sleeves rolled up when he was uniform, you'd only seen what he had on his forearm briefly other than the ones on the back of his hand.

That night didn’t count. It was too dim to see well. Also, that night technically didn’t exist.

Your eyes were particularly drawn to the little something peeking out the collar of his shirt.

You were too busy trying to figure out whether the curling ink around his collar bone was the flick of flames or the end of a dragon’s tail to notice that he’d lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at the dots of sweet at his brows.

When you do, you suddenly found yourself being given an eyeful of impossibly ripped, ridged pure muscle.

You almost dropped your glass like you did your jaw.

What the holy fuck?

At that exact moment, he lifted his gaze and caught you staring.

He was probably expecting you to look away. Any decent human would expect that if they caught someone staring at them so openly. Gawking, to be completely honest.

But you didn’t. You quickly recover, pulling yourself together, and you met his gaze squarely.

You clutched the drink in your hand tight. Your pride wouldn’t let you look away.

In your own way, it was your little pay back, weak as it was.

He held your gaze with an unreadable look on his face for a moment with that signature slight tilt to his head and an added lift to his brow, before he looked away. Wordlessly, he let his shirt fall to push his hair back with his hand and went back to grilling.

You let herself breath then and tried not to think about how his biceps flexed at the motion, how his hair slicked back made him look even more dangerous and how the little smirk you caught on his lips was making you feel things she shouldn’t be.

Your mom suggested you all hang out at the pool once you were done eating.

You hadn’t been there since that day with him and quite frankly, you would rather not be.

Not with him.

You knew your mom had a swimsuit underneath her dress. She made you wear one as well.

She probably told them to come prepared for a swim too.

Just thinking about it made you short circuit.

You tore your gaze away from where he was standing with his father at the poolside, staring blankly at the surface as the older man talked to him about something.

You'd just come back from clearing the table with your mom.

When you guys got close enough, the men look your way. Jungkook’s eyes immediately landed on you. Meanwhile you just stare at your mom, trying to ignore his inexplicably fixed attention on you.

‘It’s shame we can’t swim.’

Your mother said, reaching for her boyfriend’s hand. She gave Jungkook a soft, apologetic smile.

‘Maybe once the weather is not so chilly.’ She sighed regretfully. ‘If I had known you were sensitive to the cold I would have suggested something else.’

‘It’s fine.’ Your eyes flicker to him. The smile he puts on is small and polite. ‘I’m not a very good swimmer anyway I’m afraid.’

‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed in good nature. ‘I heard you were quite the athlete in middle school. It’s all your father ever talks about sometimes. Right, honey?'

His father just grumbled.

You couldn’t hide your surprise at this revelation. You didn’t know this before.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. Then he smiles a little with a shrug.

‘That was in the past.’

Your eyes just glided to him when he said that.

The tug at his lip looked wry and sad.

You’d never seen him like this before.

Solemn. Sombre. Not serious or intimidating or indifferent.

It felt like you were viewing him in a new light.

You settled on drinks by the pool. It was what your mom does to lighten things up.

It seemed like the gloom from earlier wasn’t all part just a part of your imagination.

Her mother suddenly chirped in between the light conversation.

'Why don't you guys get together and have a little group study?'

You suppressed the urge to groan and roll your eyes to the back of your head. You knew what she was trying to do and you wanted no part in it.

You had the words no way sitting at the tip of you tongue.

He beat you to it.

'That sounds nice,' he dared to say, even politely addressing your mom with Mrs. alongside her surname in the end uttered just the way she liked. 'I'd like that.’

You gawked at him in disbelief. Complete and utterly speechless.

Was he insane ??

'Doesn't it? Great!' Your mom is over the moon. 'Dear, take him to the study. You guys can do your teenager things and get along over books there.'

Your mom was loving and caring and she only ever wanted the best for you. You knew this.

Maybe she wanted them to get to know each other. Or maybe she just wanted to have some alone time with her man.

Either way, she practically shoved you two into the house with so much enthusiasm you wondered if she really loved you because suddenly you found yourself stuck inside your house with the last person you wanted to be with and you did not feel safe or rested.

The walk up the spirally stairs to the study had got to be one of the most intense, dragging moments of your whole life.

He remained a few steps behind you all through out the journey, following your lead in his own leisured pace.

A few steps too damn far behind in your opinion.

From that angle, you had a strong inkling that he could see your underwear from beneath your dress.

You knew this because you were familiar with what it felt like when he was staring.

What you couldn’t quite explain is why you didn't do a thing about it.

If awkward silence could manifest into a solid form for being so intense, there would have been a third occupant in the room the moment you two walked into the study.

It would’ve been so massive, all the high shelves and wooden tables lined up would have been demolished.

Jungkook remained the quiet person he was, looking around and skimming through the books on the shelves.

You were standing a safe distance away from him, absently doing the same. The books were interesting and all but you were admittedly more taken by the ink on his skin.

Up close you could clearly see the artistic patterns and symbols etched onto him.

While staring at the tats on his knuckles you couldn't help but also notice that the titles he picked up were rather complex.

Certainly not the kind of thing even high intellects reached for. Evidently, those tomes had been collecting dust in there for ages.

You were decidedly curious. Itching to ask. Hell, dying to know.

You dived before you could overthink it and find reasons not to satiate your rabid curiosity.

'You like Reader?' he paused and looked at you from the corner of his eyes. At his questioning look she gesture to the book he was holding. 'That's the third book of theirs you picked up.'

'Yeah.' he said casually, nodding a little while flipping through it. 'Their books are nice.'

A crippling lapse of silence ensues.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at the titles in front of you with a burn at your cheeks, fiddling with the polished spines.

How fucking awkward. All of this.

He probably felt the same.

What were you even doing?

You thought about telling him to ignore your mom’s attempt at trying to make the two of you get along. He obviously wasn’t looking for company or a friend. Quite frankly, neither were you. Certainly not from him. You were just trying to be not rude. Something you aren’t really surprised he probably failed to understand in all honesty.

But then he spoke, dragging you out of your reverie.

'What about you?'

Your head shot up and you found that he was standing a lot closer than before, having moved to reach for yet another complicated book to idly browse through at the top shelf.

This close, you could can smell him. Soft mint and clean soap and moonlight, not smoke. He disregarded the pages in his hands to give you a side way glance.

‘What do you like?’

There was a perpetual spark swimming in the dark depth of his eyes. It was striking. Pretty even.

When he lightly raised a brow at you, your thoughts jumbled all over before it fell back into place and you realized you were staring very openly.

But this time was different from the last time. When he had been miles away, flashing you his ripped abs.

In your reverie, you hadn’t notices that he had leaned a little to meet your eyes, and that he was real close. Like real close, looking at you intently with his head cocked to the side questioningly, like he was wondering what was going on inside your head. You could feel his breath fanning your face.

Shit.

'Uh,’ you scrambled for an answer, quickly tearing your gaze away from him to appraise the bookshelf. Your face felt like it was on fire. Considering how he hadn’t moved, he could probably see just how blazed in the face you were. Out of pure instinct, you grabbed a random book and shoved it into him to make some space in between your bodies.

Maybe with a little too much force. There was a dull thump and it made you wince.

'This.’

You hated how squeaky and breathless you sounded. Like you’d just ran a marathon. Might as well have, with how hard and fast your heart was pounding.

Jungkook took it from you, and you allowed yourself to look at him as he looked the cover over, completely fine, like you hadn’t just smacked him in the chest with a book.

The corner of his lips lifted a little as he flipped it over, cocking his head the other way before he chanced you a glance, making you blink rapidly and stand on edge.

'You sure?' he asked, sounding pretty amused. You were confused for a moment until he held it up for you to see, flashing you a full on toothy grin like you’d never seen on him before. 'You like books about horse gentilia?'

The jump in your chest was something you quickly dismissed as being one of sinking dread rather than anything else.

All the color that had been congesting your face washed away.

If there was a time you truly wished the ground would swallow your entire existence whole, it would be right then and there.

word is telling me I made up the word genitilia but I’m pretty sure it’s real because it just rolls off the tongue ( smooth ) like butter like a criminal under the cover.

the hole is one of the recurring characters so please be nice to it.

alot of things happening here if you squint and look closely.

any-whomst've, hope you all liked it. let me know if you did and I don't know come say hi? 😳 have a nice day 💜

#bangtan #bts #bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au #bts au #jungkook au

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leamy-world · 3 years

Text

Reaction to The Devil Judge (spoilers for ep. 9 & 10)

It’s been a while since i’ve last been on tumblr, but i got invested in this drama every week & the fandom’s analyses to not talk about it sometime! (Last time i was hooked, it was with Beyond Evil and i watched it by the time the finale already aired so i didn’t suffer from the weekly wait!)

So here i am, this is mainly self-indulgent with essay-long interpretations of some scenes in a totally random order, but i’d love to interact with whoever reads this if they want to react!

I’m sorry for the potential awkward phrasings, english is not my first language!

- The recap was nicely done and tied everything together, it made me realize so many things happened since the beginning! The repetition didn’t make me skip it, the narration was dynamic & fun.

- The ‘power display’ & threat Yohan showed to Soohyun (by lashing out at Juk Chang and strangling him, as proxy for Soohyun, in front of her while staring at her) were something …! She answered in the same fashion, passing by him saying she will ‘arrest Juk Chang’. I wonder how their next encounters will unfold.

- Many people already pointed this out, but Soohyun’s decision to leave Elijah, a minor, alone in her car (with its doors open, daring to tell her to stay there when she has no other choice anyway) + stop the gang alone and unannounced off duty was irresponsible. Anyways, i wonder if she will interact again with Elijah because they were adorable, i would miss it!

- The conversation between Soohyun & Gaon at his apartment (ep. 10) was interesting on both parts:

It sounded casual, but Soohyun wanted to see where he stood in the Kang family and make sure he wasn’t in Yohan’s plans (i hope she didn’t seriously mean the ‘weird’ comment about Elijah, it’d be sad since Elijah enjoyed her company!).

Gaon was anxious professor Min told her about their last conversation (i think she’ll talk to him in the next eps). He also indirectly defended the Kangs by associating himself with them (« I’m pretty sure i’m just as weird ») and voiced his concern about Yohan, speaking more to himself than following the conversation at hand.

When Soohyun changed the subject with the ‘i’m jealous’ bit, maybe it was to brighten the mood with a light-hearted comment, hoping Gaon would follow. And by the look of her pause right after, it seemed she was also expecting GO’s ‘positive’ reaction to her jealousy, giving in to the kind of teasing/flirt they have in their friendship. But deep down, it was also to voice her true unease about Gaon’s involvement with Yohan she had since the beginning and ep. 8.

It’s obvious to us she meant she was jealous of Yohan. And GO could’ve understood it this way too, since she confessed to him multiple times and her feelings must be known to him (i think he takes it as a ‘joke’ given how many times she confessed and each time when he was crying, so maybe he thought, very reasonably, it was to cheer him up? I also guess he’s too absorbed by his current worries about the Kangs and her potential suspicion, to notice her attempts).

But instead of that, he’s not in the same line of thoughts at all and picks up on the « rich », musing on what makes one’s existence rich, thinking Soohyun was envying Yohan’s position and life and proving her he’s indeed in a whole different world, empathizing with Yohan.

She then looked like her face fell, until her eyes lit up again when he was about to admit she was precious to him along with his family.

By the way, this scene picks up right where we were left off in ep. 8, when Gaon tends to his plants:

« - Are you back for good? - Not really. They need some looking after. - You should come back, not drop by. This is where you live. - Someone there needs some taking care of too. - Take care of your own self, please. - What about me? I’m living a shamelessly comfortable life. Soohyun. - Yes? - What are you thinking about? - Nothing. By the way, Gaon … » (i wonder what she was going to say!)

Lost in thoughts, Gaon’s mixed emotions when he said Yohan was not rich (« he’s not rich. If you get to know him, Kang Yohan is really poor. ») were very well depicted by Jinyoung’s acting: the soft voice and the ghost of a smile that convey understanding and endearment, leaning on his counter in a relaxed stance, but also at the same time the stare lost in the space, maybe to all the memories tied to the Kangs and Yohan, and the tension in his left lip corner by the end of his sentence which betray his sadness and empathy with Yohan’s life. After this, when he became aware of Soohyun’s gaze, it’s like his bubble popped. He looked surprised with his eyes widening, and was fidgeting a little, then changed the subject to himself.

And « I have you, Soohyun » sounded truly grateful but also sad and conflicted, GO lets his worries show when she’s gone, maybe wondering if they would be bound to be against each other one day as he continues to side with Yohan, menacing to jeopardize their friendship to the point of no return. In these kinds of stories you expect these kinds of twists, but i grew fond of the cast send help

- I loved how Yohan’s confession to GO about his brother was filmed: the camera faced head-on his pain, slipping unbeknownst to him through the façade he always showed to protect himself. But this time, despite his (late) attempts to dismiss these feelings both for him and Gaon to regain composure (the hand gestures to hide his tears, pretending to be tough with the « there’s no such things as innocent people », drinking away his sorrow with a bitter laugh that rings hollow), all this façade fades out in front of Gaon literally by being blurred out in the shot, as if he clearly sees his pain through (his silhouette appearing clear-cut between Yohan’s gestures). I know it’s a pretty classic shot but it fit well with this scene. He clenches his jaw in the next shot, moved by Yohan opening up.

- The dinner scene was really moving …! Especially when you put the colder tones the kitchen had when we first saw Yohan have dinner by himself next to this scene, full of light in contrast! I wonder when the OST playing will be released, it was so beautiful and reminded me of My Mister’s OST (especially Rainbow!). I look forward to the lyrics, because most of the time the OST gives more layers & depth to the story and the characters! (please don’t let it be about Yohan’s budding feeling of a true ‘home’ ;;) I didn’t realize it upon my first watch, but Gaon really took the cutlery hostage, it cracked me up!

- The parallels in this show will be the end of me: Yohan went from the « i’m so sick of this place » (ep. 5) to asking K to drive him « home » with a delighted smile.

- I liked the parallel of Yohan’s reaction to GO/Sun-Ah sitting in his office chair, impeding on his space (he reminds SA to stay out of it, the first time politely, the second time almost grimacing, his jaw clenched: « Just because you’re the head of the OSC doesn’t mean you can barge in like this (…) So please stop barging in like this. », while he says nothing to GO)

- At the beginning of ep. 10, we have Yohan saying he doesn’t like « hanging out with people » & by the end of it, Soohyun saying « My childhood’s best friend is hanging out with a rich guy ».

- These two episodes gave more insight and nuance into Sun-Ah’s character, which was very nice ; and also Cha Kyung-Hee’s comeback (and her last confrontation with Sun-Ah!!!!)

- The people following Juk Chang also targeted sexual minorities according to the subs i had, i wonder if it will be addressed again sometime in the drama.

- I loved Elijah’s « hacking » technique scene, i felt proud too! I always look forward to her scenes (and Kkomi’s too haha)! And her reaching out Gaon’s shoulder for the first time ;;

- The ‘humans lose their minds when they think they’ve lost what they have’ ……… repeated twice by YH ………… It will hit hard and all those lines will come right back at us viewers, but i’m not prepared haha! And also for the ‘if you want revenge, don’t hesitate’, i hope it doesn’t foreshadow a future revenge Gaon will execute without hesitation aaaaaa

Also, what lawyer Ko said about himself in ep. 8 may apply to Yohan’s case by the end, will he atone for what he did someday? (« I’m no longer a lawyer. I’m just a criminal. When all this comes to an end, I’ll pay for what i did. »)

- I really loved Yohan’s efforts to take into consideration both Elijah’s (he refrained himself from acting rashly like the last time she went out and listened to her) and Gaon’s feelings (stopping him from endangering himself recklessly, not forcing him onto the revenge path lest he’d regret it afterwards, and helping him to face the truth rationally).

- « She’s hungry for affection. No matter how much you hate the world and the people in it, you can never live alone. You always need someone to rely on. As long as you’re a human being. » Many people commented on it, Gaon must speak from his own experience and empathizes with both Elijah and Yohan’s situation. These two episodes showed how Gaon cares for the Kangs more openly, and i live for it!

- Give me that domestic scene where Gaon plays cards with YH, the nanny and Elijah! And also more K and lawyer Ko scenes!

- Jinjoo’s and Gaon’s intervention in the trial were gold! And Satie’s Gnossiennes rearrangement playing in the background during Juk Chang’s speech, it’s the cherry on the cake haha

- By the way, there was also an arrangement of Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto no. 2 during the first charity event Yohan went with Jinjoo in the earlier episodes, it was also beautiful!

- GO’s Awkward Smile. I have no words, it is now forever imprinted on my mind.

Have a nice week and take care!

#the devil judge #tvn drama #my ramblings

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420pogpills · 3 years

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Ban drama aside, I was thinking about a random thing I noticed earlier, on George's alt streams he's told Sapnap 'not to talk to him in that way' a couple of times, which isn't really something he does on his main channel. I wonder if its because he's just more relaxed so happier to be like 'nah, watch your tone a bit' when they get a little snippy with each other or he's just less worried about making the stream uncomfortable for viewers as it's more casual.

Also it's nice to hear George sticking up for himself, given how his main channel streams can get and what he lets slide lol, and shows he a sapnap have a really good relationship where it doesn't make things awkward they just move on right away.

i think he was extremely relaxed on his alt, which is what i came to love about it! like oddly enough, i found everyone else’s alt streams to be extremely similar to their normal streams, except they’ll have face cam off from time to time. karl and george’s alt streams feel the most different to me.

george said it himself, he feels like there’s pressure on him not just while streaming on his main but also having face cam on. whereas on his alt, he can do whatever he wants, play whatever he wants, sit in whatever position he wants because he doesn’t need to be in line with the camera. so with less pressure comes less consciousness of keeping up with any sort of image. not like he’s a completely different person or anything, but you can definitely tell how more relaxed he is. and sapnap too seems a lot more calm on the alt streams too, so there’s less opportunity for any awkward arguments :’)

it’s just been so great and i do hope he gets unbanned and they continue streaming as much as they have!

#ask #anon #georgenotfound #sapnap

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skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

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Hi! There is a show: ZYW and some other guy travel for 3 days. From what I've seen, it's his morning routine to warm up his vocal cords Also ZYW is hugging trees and basically most of the time they eat lol Also they talk a lot, so I guess it should be cool to understand. When you have two minutes, could you tell us what this show is about in general? The name on youtube: 《仅三天可见》[第六期] 姜思达周一围｜一个冠军给我带来了无妄之灾 Perhaps they're visiting some place important to ZYW? Thank you so much for all your help!)

Yeah, so in brief, the show is about the host, Jiang Sida (JSD), who spends 3 days with a celebrity in each episode to try to understand them better.

ZYW in particular is a celebrity who really interested Jiang Sida because of how quickly ZYW gained popularity after Birth of an Actor, and also because of all of the negative rumours swirling around his personal life. ZYW is often insulted by the media for being 油腻, which means greasy. Greasy is an insult used to describe older, middle-aged men who are sleazy, self-absorbed, and on the heavier or chubbier side, although sometimes this insult can be leveled at younger, in-shape male celebrities too who come off as kind of douchey.

It’s sad because even though ZYW doesn’t often express it, you can tell that the rumours do get to him. For instance, during the first meal in the show, he wanted to use a toothpick, but he was wary about using it in front of the cameras so he pocketed it away. The host noticed this and sympathized and playfully said, “Ah, too protective of your image. Stop the camera. Let’s go upstairs to the third floor, I understand you.”

The vocal cord warm up (that occurred during the hike before that meal) happened because ZYW asked JSD “you studied production right, not broadcast? If you studied broadcast, this would be a good place to practice your sound”, to which JSD replied, “show me” (or, “give one”). ZYW proceeded to demonstrate a dantian qi exercise.

In the voiceover during the hike, JSD said that even though they were friendly, things were still a little awkward and distant between them since they hadn’t gotten to know each other yet.

On the third floor rooftop, JSD opened up to ZYW about a film he wanted to write about. JSD shared his ideas to ZYW, saying that the film would tell the story of his father who spends a year away at sea fishing. ZYW then shares his feedback, saying that it’s a really meaningful story because it’s about the loneliness of a man out at sea. Basically, this conversation is what finally allowed JSD to connect to ZYW because they were finally talking about deep and thoughtful topics like the art of storytelling and life lessons. ZYW said to JSD, you need to think about what kind of perspective you want to show. Is the story about the son’s feelings about his father’s return, or is the story the father’s story at sea, and the son is just an observer meant as a stand-in for the audience? ZYW then said that he was pleasantly surprised to learn about this side of JSD because he now knows that JSD is able to understand him. He also encourages JSD to keep pursuing his dream of wanting to make this movie. It doesn’t matter whether the end result is good or not, but it’s a joy to be able wake up everyday and pursue your goal. JSD says that he spends everyday thinking about this story he’s creating, because he wants to get to know the story better since it’s still so unfamiliar and foreign to him.

During the tea segment, JSD asked ZYW if he was bothered by the things the media says about him and he kind of just shrugs it off and says that it grounds him. They talk about how he used to love karaoke (KTV) when he was younger, JSD asked him what his wife likes about him, and ZYW said that you have to ask his wife why. ZYW mentioned how people would call him PUA, or “pick up artist”, and then JSD if those things bothered him. ZYW said that he learned to ignore those things, but they do bother his wife. The tea segment ends with them noting that it looks like it’s about to rain soon, and ZYW says, when it rains, you can choose to stand in the rain, or avoid it and go indoors.

During the evening meal, ZYW is asked again about how he feels about what people say about him and why he doesn’t address the rumours. ZYW says that it’s pointless because his voice alone isn’t going to make all the rumours stop. JSD says that it could be cathartic to be able to yell back at people, and ZYW laughs and says it’ll only be for a moment’s satisfaction but it won’t change anything. When asked if he is a person who likes to win, ZYW said that he likes to finish things, but does that make him someone who likes to win? He doesn’t compare himself to others, but he just wants to do what’s expected of him. JSD then tells ZYW that the director of the show asked him if he was worried that netizens would accuse him of trying to use this show to try to rescue ZYW’s image (洗白, which means to “wash white”, or clear someone’s name). JSD tells ZYW that his goal is to present celebrities in an honest and genuine manner, and if it just so happens that the celebrity is actually a better person than what netizens thought, then that’s the truth and he’s not fabricating anything.

The following evening, they have a conversation about happiness. ZYW says that he doesn’t compare between the years in his life or classify certain years or decades as being bad years or good years. He doesn’t wish to forget the bad years. He says, why would you need to forget the bad years?

By the river, ZYW asks JSD if he ever thought about what kind of animal he wanted to be. JSD says that it doesn’t really matter what animal, but if you asked him if he would rather become someone else, he’d say no. ZYW says that not wanting to be another person is a pretty good answer.

During the final sit-down interview, JSD starts off the conversation by saying that ZYW looks relaxed most of the time, but he’s actually 绷 (”beng”) on the inside, meaning stretched-tight. ZYW asks how so. JSD says that ZYW is constantly noticing things around him, and avoiding things and people and cameras. ZYW says that it’s part of his job to notice more details more than the average person. In terms of avoiding cameras, he’s constantly being scrutinized, there are always cameras around him. Even during this interview, they have to put on a show of being relaxed in casual conversation, even though there’s a whole sea of cameras and people with mics and earpieces around them. So it’s only natural to want to try to find a balance between reel and real life by being a little aversive towards cameras and people’s scrutiny.

JSD then says that ZYW seems like he has a lot of thoughts that he keeps to himself. JSD says ZYW is 拧巴 (”ning ba”) , which kind of means uncomfortable, awkward, restless, wanting to do something but not doing it, like for example, being uncomfortable with rumours but not addressing them. ZYW says that what’s the point of explaining? How is it meaningful? Will explaining something change you as a person? You are still you whether you choose to explain something you not. Likewise, you are still you despite the rumours. The rumours (no matter how bad they are) don’t change who you are. Only you know who you are.

This really reminds me of what Xiao Qi said in episode 64 of TRP: “If there’s anything that needs to be explained, then no matter how much you try to explain it, it’s never going to be explained away. Let them spread the rumours.”

ZYW explains that there is no way that a single word or statement from him can possibly fend off the tens of thousands of words from netizens, so there is no point. In addition, rumours are only momentary and they ebb and flow. The netizens are always going to look for a new rumour or scandal to talk about anyway, so the uproar about him is only temporary.

ZYW also says that there will always be rumours. There’s no truth. He will never expect that a single interview can change people’s minds. First of all, the viewers can’t experience the conversation in the same way the he and JSD are currently experiencing the conversation now in this moment. The audience will be watching it through a screen. The audience will only seeing an edited recording of the conversation, but they will never be able to know or understand the “true” nature of the conversation that he and JSD are having right now because the audience isn’t here with them. This is actually some really deep and philosophical insight from ZYW lol. What is real? What is the truth?

JSD asks ZYW is this means that he’s disappointed and lost faith with the audience. ZYW says no, this is just reality. We can only hope to influence people who are able to influence, like people in our immediate circle, but when it comes to noise or mass opinions, you don’t have control over that.

JSD then asks about fatherhood. JSD says that most men would talk about how fatherhood has changed them. ZYW says that most of his friends talk about this, but he doesn’t. But if he doesn’t talk about it, does he think about it? ZYW pauses to reflect. In another interview, ZYW noted that all kids have their own life “scripts” that they act out and deal with (this was in response to how he doesn’t seem to be home often to be with his kid). In that interview, he said that that was the way in which he had to grow up, figuring out his own script (and essentially not relying on anyone), so he doesn’t expect it to be any different for his own child. This once again result in the media backlash against him and questioning his role as a father. Which is why when faced with this question from JSD now, ZYW has to pause to think carefully about how to answer.

JSD asks why can’t ZYW give a straightforward answer for the audience. The audience doesn’t want to hear an answer buried in layers of meaning, but they just want a simple answer to things. ZYW says that sometimes he isn’t completely sure of what the answer to something is, and so he can’t give a straight answer. It would be easy to give the answer that the audience wants, but he needs to be able to give answer that is genuine and resonates with him.

JSD asks how ZYW would respond if the audience calls him self-absorbed. ZYW turns the question back to JSD and asks him to provide a response for him because he doesn’t know how to. ZYW said that he would just not respond and let it pass. On top of that, ZYW says that he doesn’t think of himself as being self-absorbed at all. He’s actually dissatisfied with himself in a lot of ways, and all he wants is for the audience to not pay attention to him so that he can be peacefully left alone.

JSD asks if ZYW is he is more afraid of being criticized or being forgotten. ZYW says that being forgotten would mean that there is a problem with his acting skills. In terms of being criticized, it would depend on the criticism. He would mind criticism towards his acting because he would want to improve any problems in craft. However, if it’s personal criticism, then he doesn’t care.

ZYW says that someone he admires once said, it’s a complicated world out there, so find a comfortable position, change positions, and learn to live with it.

JSD’s second last question to ZYW is whether he’d rather choose a comfortable position/posture or a beautiful position/posture. ZYW said that he would choose a comfortable position. JSD asks if ZYW thinks his current “posture” looks good (i.e., if his current standing and image is favourable). ZYW asks that you’ll have to ask someone else in order to know.

The last question asked whether ZYW can predict how this interview will be received by audience. ZYW says that they touched upon many deep topics, but it’s hard to say what kind of effect it will have on the audience, or how the audience would choose to interpret it. He’ll welcome thoughtful discussion, but it would regretful if the audience took away very superficial things from the discussion.

JSD asks if ZYW is happy with the discussion today. ZYW says that if it weren’t for the cameras, they could have gone deeper into some topics, but because there are cameras, he has to have impose boundaries on the things he’s willing to reveal. But he says that he would be interested in having more private conversations with JSD.

JSD ends the episode saying that ZYW is an old soul who knows himself, knows what he wants, and already has his own “world” (meaning he already has what he needs).

lol I was at first only going to summarize the first few minutes of the episode, but I ended up watching the whole thing because I was so memorized by ZYW’s insights, so here you go, a scene by scene summary of the episode.

For those curious, you can watch it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzt31O7imS4

#zhou yiwei #zhou yi wei #cdrama

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Night Terrors, pt. 2

WARNING: While there are no torture flashbacks in this section, Pt. 2 continues to deal with PTSD, as well as some phantom pain and a character who lost a limb in combat. If you are uncomfortable with this, please do not read, as I do not wish to offend anyone. I understand that PTSD and phantom pain are very real issues that many have to deal with, and I have no first hand or even second hand experience with PTSD, only night terrors, and I am getting all my information regarding how someone might react during a PTSD flashback episode, how to help them during one and phantom pain from the internet.

Constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

(Secondary reminder that this is part of my first stories for the current iteration of Modern Inheritance, and I’ve learned a lot since this about war trauma, PTSD and post-war life and difficulties. I tried my best to be respectful and sensitive.)

Part 1 // PART 2

~~~

Glenwing jerked, tearing himself from his waking dreams. He had heard the thunderstorm long before, and had not been bothered by it, but a new sound was echoing through his home. It was uniquely different from the storm outside, and the difference unsettled him.

Beneath the rumble of the thunder and the crash of the lightning he heard a faint ‘thudthudthud’ from his living area.

“Who the hell…” Concerned, the elf tossed off his sheets and pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers. After more than seven months of learning how to do simple tasks both with and without his prosthetic, Glen managed to get the pants on only a few seconds slower than he would have with the prosthesis. He deftly pulled on a plain white t-shirt to cover the end of his scar covered shoulder, the prosthetic on its stand beside his bed, and made his way to the front door.

Instead of the louder bangs that he had heard earlier, the only sound emitting from the door now were a series of soft, regular 'thunk…thunk…thunk’ noises. He frowned, confused, and peered out the viewer into the night.

It took him a long moment. He first only saw rain and brief flashes of lightning. Then he saw a sword lying in the mud, a shaking hand holding it in a death grip. A new sound, soft and pleading, reached his ears now that he was closer, and with a shock he threw the door open to the raging storm.

Arya tumbled into his home, drenched with rain water from head to toe and clothed in her casual, day-to-day combat gear. There was blood and mud on the side of her face, the red liquid gushing from where she had been repeatedly hitting her head on the door. Besides the cut she looked physically sound to him, so he crouched low to the ground and slipped his remaining arm under both of hers in a cross chest carry and gently pulled her fully inside the house.

Once she was inside Glenwing returned to a crouch and, supporting the woman’s weight with his chest, slipped his head under one of her arms as shifted his grip to her opposite side. “Hey, can you hear me? Arya?”

“Let me die….” The woman’s head lolled against his shoulder, eyes half open. “It hurts…can’t do it again….”

“Not going to happen, Cee-Oh. You’re a tough lil’ spitfire of a lady, so we’re going to stand on three, okay? One, two, three!” Glen heaved them both up, staggering as the added weight on his uninjured side nearly unbalanced him. He managed to get to the couch and fall backwards, wincing as his former commander’s elbow dug into his stomach. “Good job, Ari. Good job.” A flicker passed through Arya’s eyes at the words.

“It hurts…” The woman gripped his shirt, appearing a little more aware of her surroundings. “Glen…I can’t do this….”

“Take it easy, Arya. Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Can I take your jacket off? You’re soaking wet.” Arya shook her head, looking terrified at the very idea. “Okay, that’s okay. Can we at least get you washed up, rinse out that cut on your he–”

“NO!” The shout came both verbally and mentally, a short spike of terror that left a sizable dent in his mental defenses. Glenwing leapt off the couch and away from his friend as a pistol suddenly appeared between them, torn from the belt slung haphazardly from shoulder to hip. “No water!” She shouted at him, a mixture of fury and pure fear on her blood streaked face.

Then the gun slipped from her fingers, the color draining from her skin as she wrapped her arms around her middle. “'Think ’m gonna be sick.”

Glen carefully moved behind couch and to the kitchen and snatched up the bucket he used for cleaning. He came back around and set it in Arya’s lap, grabbing the pistol and unlatching the belt as he did so. She didn’t comment, only slid to the floor and dry heaved into the small bucket, coughing and sputtering as nothing came up.

When she finished, shakily curling into a half ball on her side, Glen sat cross legged next to her on the floor and leaned against the couch. “You okay?”

Arya shook her head. “It hurts.”

“Your stomach?”

“Back. Head. Everything.”

Glen nodded. Her difficulty speaking and combat ready attire had already clued him in on what was happening, feeling an ache in his chest as he watched her try to fight the flashbacks and phantoms in her head.

“Can I touch your shoulder?” He asked softly. The woman nodded, and when the male elf gently set his remaining hand on her arm she grabbed it and held onto it as if seeking a lifeline back into the present.

They sat like that for a long time, the rain pounding on the roof and the thunder rumbling through the forest.

Arya slowly seemed to relax slightly. Her grip on Glen’s hand never released, but she moved closer to him, her upper back lightly brushing the outside of his leg. He took it as a sign that she was feeling a bit more grounded and asked, “Can I heal your head?”

“Yes.” She mumbled, exhausted and pale. Whatever she had seen and felt had ripped through what little progress in sleep she had made, and it left her cold and shaking. “Please.”

“I might need my kit.” Glen told her softly, squeezing her shoulder. “I need to get up and get it. Will you be okay?”

“…Maybe.”

“Do you want to hold on to something? Dog tags? A pillow?” The medic smiled as his former CO reached up and dragged one of the small pillows off the couch and released him. With her free hand she clutched at the dog tags around her neck, running her thumb over the raised letters of each. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Using slow movements Glenwing pushed himself up, grabbing the couch armrest for support. His knees and his lower back popped as he came out of the hunched position, and he rolled his neck as he retrieved his prosthetic from his room. The ruddy orange and white streaked limb locked on with a familiar click and hiss and the medic flexed his metal fingers, touching to tip of each one to his thumb in the now automatic check on the link to his nerves.

Satisfied with his findings, Glen opened his closet and pulled out a dusty backpack similar to the one Arya had in her room. He unlocked it with the thumb scanner and dug out his belt and the attached medkit, then grabbed an armful of towels. He was about to return to the living room, stepping out into the short hall, when the closed door across from his room caught his eye.

'That might actually help.’

A few moments later he was back at the couch, setting his collected items down. “I’m back.” Arya nodded a little and Glen sat, patting his leg. The woman scooted closer and rested her head on the offered knee, familiar with the methods he’d had for caring for head wounds she or Fäolin would acquire in the field. “I’m going to ask you a question that might scare you. There’s all sorts of debris in this cut. I can rinse it out with cleaning solution or I can clear it with magic.”

Glenwing saw the other elf’s throat convulse, and for a moment he was afraid she would slip back into her memories or start gagging again. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she gripped her tags in a white knuckled grip as she shook her head. “No…water. No water.”

“Clear it with magic, then?”

“…Magic.”

As Glen gently moved her mud caked hair away from the still trickling wound, his mind reverted back to that of the battlefield medic and bodyguard he had been before that night months ago. The cut wasn’t deep, but like all head wounds it had bled profusely. The mud had helped stop the bleeding somewhat as it dried, and with a light touch he gently brushed the larger pieces of dirt away before breaching the flow of magic in his mind and murmuring a spell to remove the debris from the gash. Once it was clear, he set about healing it completely.

“There.” Glen set his hand on Arya’s arm as the last bit of skin flowed together. “All healed up.” To his confusion, Arya shook her head. “Are you hurt somewhere else?” She nodded. “Tell me.”

The woman hugged the pillow closer to her chest and buried her face into it, pulling away from her friend. “Back…Back’s open again.”

Glenwing felt a tingle shoot down his metal arm. There would be much more blood if the scars on her back had opened. He almost asked ’are you sure?’ before he caught himself, one of his own memories giving him pause.

He sat in Rhunön’s shop, remaining hand clenched at his hip as he screamed at the sky “It still hurts!” Then the wizened blacksmith had marched out from her forge, interrupted from shaping the plates of his prosthetic, and slapped him across the face hard, shouting for him to unclench his fingers. When he finally did she seized his hand and slapped it on the end of his stump, her rough fingers holding his in place.

“Feel that?” Rhunön had snapped. “It’s gone! You have no nerves down there anymore. It hurts, I know. But you have to make your brain remember that it is gone.” Glen had shivered and tears streamed down his face as he did as she told him, rubbing the thick pink scars that marked where his shoulder now ended.

And the pain had eased.

If it felt real to her, he had to show her that the past was not lingering in the present.

“Alright. Then we need to take your jacket off.” Arya shivered but still eased herself up from the floor and pulled her arms from the sleeves, shedding the garment by tugging the hem on the back so that it fell from her shoulders.

Just as he had suspected, Glen saw no blood on her shirt as he moved to sit on the couch behind her. The wet olive green fabric was darkened by rainwater but showed no telltale, pitch-black patches where blood would have seeped through.

“Arya, I’m going to pull the back of your shirt up, okay?” Glenwing warned her as he brushed her loosened braid over her shoulder. When she gave a shaky nod of approval, he carefully pulled the cloth up until it was midway up her back and held out his hand by her side. “Give me your hand.” When she paused, Glen touched two fingers where he knew the Yawë was inked into her skin. “Vae hávr yawë, fyrn-darmthral.”

She relaxed, the undeniable truth of his words putting her more at ease, and let him take her hand.

Slowly, gently, Glenwing guided Arya’s hand to the exposed skin of her back. She flinched when her fingers first brushed it, then sucked in a breath when he ran her hand over the first scar, the burns that raked her side. When she didn’t react beyond that, he continued, letting her fingertips glide over the healed rents in her skin.

Finally, he touched her palm flat against the center of her lower back. Her fingers felt blindly for open wounds but only found scar tissue. Glenwing released his hold on her hand and let her feel along a nearly inch wide hypertrophic scar that reached to her hip, checking under her own control that what she felt was real.

After a long moment, Arya spoke, her voice no longer strained with pain but slightly disbelieving and oddly awed. “They never opened.”

“They never opened.” Glenwing confirmed, again abandoning his spot on the couch to sit next to her on the floor. “How do you feel?”

Arya was silent, then she grunted, “Sore as all hell.”

“That’s expected. You headbutted my door hard enough to make a Kull proud.”

“I probably woke up half of Tildarí hall.” The woman groaned and put her face in her hands, mortified, then pulled back with a mildly surprised expression. “I’m covered in mud.”

Glen couldn’t help but grin a little. “Yes. Yes, you are. You wouldn’t let me clean you up. You, my friend, are in desperate need of a shower.”

Arya shuddered from head to toe and her eyes flicked to the window, where rain continued to pour down from the heavens. “I don’t want to be near water for a while.” She rubbed her upper arms as goose bumps flared over her damp skin.

“Here.” Glenwing picked up the jacket he had retrieved from the closed room.

His friend accepted it gratefully and pulled it on, then froze. Her pupils first contracted then dilated in a split second, and for a moment Glen feared his action had triggered another attack. Then Arya hugged her sides and tugged the hood over her shoulder, inhaling a scent that Glenwing couldn’t detect and smiled slightly.

“This is Fäolin’s, isn’t it?” She didn’t look at him with any anger or accusation, only a strange relief as if the scent of her lost love had chased away the final demon lingering in her mind.

“Yeah.” Glenwing gently grinned back at her. “I figured you could use something familiar.”

“Thank you, Glen.” They sat together in comfortable silence, the fluffy towels bunched around them on the floor seeped in their body heat. “What time is it?”

Glen checked the digital readout on his arm. “Ah, almost Oh-Four-Hundred.” Arya started to stand, apologizing profusely for waking him up in the middle of the night. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. “Hey, hey, stay! I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while. You nearly beat my door in with your head, so I need to watch you for signs of a concussion.” He chuckled. “I’ll need your help fixing the dent you put in the paneling when morning comes, too.”

Arya paused, considering it. It was still raining, and she didn’t want to risk triggering another episode by going out in the deluge. Plus, she very well couldn’t go back home until she had washed up, which might be some time in coming as the very thought of even wiping her face with a wet washcloth made her throat tighten. She could change clothes from the go bag she kept in Fäolin’s room and just tell Islanzadí that Glen had called her over early in the morning for another lesson on how to repair his prosthetic. If she even asked.

“Okay, fine. Can I take the couch?” A flicker of confusion flashed across Glenwing’s face, and he started to gesture back towards the closed room in the hallway. “I don't…I don’t want to sleep in his bed without him.” Arya murmered, jamming her fists into the pockets of Fäolin’s jacket.

Glen’s face softened. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that. You can take the couch. You know where everything is, right?” She nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep my door open, so if anything happens all you need to do is call me and I’ll be out here in a heartbeat. All set? Okay.” He smiled and stood, patting his former commander on the head while she swatted his arm in good natured retaliation. “Good night, Arya.”

“Glen, wait.” He turned to see Arya leaning with her arms folded over the back of the couch. She touched her first two fingers to her lips. “Elrun ono, Glenwing-Vor, fyrn-darmthrell.” And she added in the common elvish tongue, “For everything. You pulled me out of a second hell.”

Glenwing bowed with his orange fist twisted on his chest. “Onr astorí, Arya, fyrn-darmthral.” He straightened and moved into his room with a tired wave. “Sleep well.”

And for the first time in weeks, she did.

Translations

(Most of these are very rough and cobbled together from words that are similar to what I was trying to convey with a few alterations, so it is not exact.)

Vae hávr yawë, fyrn-darmthral– 'You can trust me, war-sister.’ Literally translates to 'We have a bond of trust, war sister.’

Elrun ono, Glenwing-Vor, fyrn-darmthrell– 'Thank you, Glenwing, war-brother.’ Vor is an honorific for a close male friend

Onr astorí, Arya, fyrn darmthral– 'You’re welcome, Arya, war-sister.’

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #night terrors #glenwing #arya #durza #faolin #ptsd #torture #flashbacks #amputee character #damn this feels so cheesy and young at points damn it

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kisskissbanggang · 4 years

Text

The Sabotage of Simkung House - Part 2

[Stray Kids Multi Fic - 15Min Read/4K Words - Changbin x - Female Reader - Non-Idol!au, Variety!au - NSFW/Smut, Plot - Reverse Harems, Variety Shows, Unfolding Plot, Gym Sex, Daddy Kink, Secret Hook-Ups]

How could a show like this get tedious so fast? By the end of the first week you had established a rhythm: clean, get a dumb text from Felix, flirt a little, and do a tiny amount of Chan’s laundry every night. The frequency was the biggest part of your routine that puzzled you.

Until you realized -- maybe that was his angle. Maybe, perhaps, Chan was awful at flirting and this was his attempt at seeing you in “private.” You set about experimenting, coming up to his room early one night, right after you heard steps travel from his room to the bathroom. Being the oldest had its perks, such as no roommate to answer when you pretended to wait after knocking. You bashfully gasped as a hand tapped on your shoulder from behind, and you turned to see Chan wrapped up in a bathrobe, his soft, wavy hair still soaked after washing.

“Noona,” he plainly greeted, “I apologize for making you wait. It was nice of you to come meet me up here instead.” He brushed past you into his room, returning with a measly pile of laundry that he set in your basket before shutting the door in your face. You smiled meagerly, shrugging in defeat to the camera at the end of the hall when you turned to retreat downstairs.

You hit the bottom step and let out an actual gasp this time, surprised as you were that Changbin was currently helping Hyunjin with his squats in the home gym outside your room. Both boys watched as you nearly fumbled Chan’s laundry out of your hands, Changbin’s smirk catching your eye before he turned his attention back to correcting Hyunjin’s form. You separated and got started on Chan’s laundry before heading back to your room to think. Did you have it all wrong? Maybe Chan couldn't be won that easily. You would have to do some more reconnaissance.

The next morning, you awoke to your requisite text from Felix.

>How’s my shining star this morning? Try interacting more during the day. You rate the best out of the staff cast.

You huffed out a sigh as you pulled on a simple pair of pants with your cute blouse, more suitable for housework when you weren't attempting to get any work done for your own show. The curtains needed to be steamed and the hardwood needed to be tended to on the main floor. You would have to wax each room when the boys weren't using them. Somehow, though, the house was already seemingly empty. You grabbed a duster and peeked into each room, trying to feel out where everyone may have run off to. Seungmin hadn't warned you of any big happenings coming up, so it would seem odd that no one was around.

Until you opened the door to the backyard. Apparently, the boys had begun a morning exercise regimen, with Changbin leading everyone in push-ups. Chan seemed most adept beside him, with Minho doing well enough at the end, and Jisung and Hyunjin attempting to keep up behind them.

“Noona,” Changbin greeted over his shoulder, “we’re about to start some yoga to cool down and then we’ll be heading inside.”

“That’s fine,” you reassured him, “I was just checking up on you. I thought you’d all run away,” you laughed.

“Want to join in?”

“Yoga?” You asked, considering. “Sure. Save me a spot tomorrow morning. Now, nobody steps foot in the study today until I'm done waxing the floor,” you teasingly wagged a finger at the boys, waving goodbye as you walked back in the house.

You really did plan to join them. Your scheme now involved getting so invested in their show that you spent even more time with all of them. Surely, you'd be able to figure Chan out that way, and get the others in the process. Seungmin popped up as you headed to the study.

“Do you need any workout clothes for tomorrow, noona?” He whispered in the quiet of the hall. You shook your head, silently thanking him and waving goodbye. Weird. If he’d watched your nighttime footage, he'd have known that you'd worked out before bed every night after the first. Then again, what assistant has time to watch the dailies?

Nonetheless, the next morning you arrived just in time for yoga with the boys, covered up pretty well with tights under your shorts and a hoodie on over your t-shirt, with a mic from the crew clipped on since you were out in the backyard. You stretched out with everyone else, them doing it to cool down from their workout, and you to warm up after your night of sleep. You attempted to not notice the boys all glancing at you as you easily kept up with and occasionally outpaced Changbin, your casual relaxation more than making up for any poses you didn’t quite get. It was apparent to you by now that the safe approach for all of them was to pretend you were entirely oblivious and innocent.

Except for Minho.

Minho caught your eye during Downward Facing Dog, smiling cutely at you as you stretched. And, as you transitioned into Child’s Pose, you noticed both Changbin and Chan taking note of your acknowledgement, each with one eyebrow cocked. At least, that is, until you smiled back at Changbin, causing him to quickly divert his gaze, and now Chan’s raised eyebrow was directed at him instead.

Now what did that mean?

You were curious to the point of distraction for the rest of your yoga session and you thanked the boys for including you before you headed back in the house to get started on chores. For the time being, you would bury your head in your work while you attempted to formulate your next step. The amazing thing was, though, that you couldn’t even do the thing you usually did when you wanted to be productive and think through things.

Streaming wasn't just your main livelihood aside from the occasional AV, it was something you enjoyed enough to be doing instead of pursuing something related to your degree. You could take some time, get some thinking done and have some fun, and please some fans while you were at it. You’d been miserable working retail and clubs. This way, you were your own boss and running your own life on your own terms. You understood why you signed the contract knowing you couldn’t stream -- filming property that belonged to the studio and making money off it was pretty much stealing in a legal sense, and you didn't need to bring the law into complicating an already complicated lifestyle -- but you still missed it.

You headed upstairs after your day of chores to catch Seungmin and return your mic, which you hadn’t thought about and had promptly stowed in your apron for the rest of the day. You looked around, hands on your hips and confused as you saw the crew had already cleared out.

“Hmm,” you wondered out loud, “I wonder where Seungmin is.” You’d grown accustomed to this the past couple days, just asking for something out loud to yourself and Seungmin or Jeongin appearing and giving it to you. The house was wired enough that someone was bound to hear you.

Or at least you thought.

You waited a solid few more minutes until Seungmin popped his head in from downstairs.

“Noona!” He laughed, just a little surprised. “I came back for my earbuds. Did you call for me?” He walked over, picking up a pack of wireless headphones off the corner of a table. He walked over and took the mic from you, wrapping it up and setting it back in its cradle for now. “This is the only room with no microphones or cameras, so if that mic's off you’ve been out of luck.”

“Oh!” You laughed, “that makes a ton of sense. Thank you.”

Seungmin waved you goodnight and you returned the same as he hopped down the stairs for the night before you eventually went down yourself. All this thinking for the day and you still couldn't see a clear path ahead of you. Maybe you just needed to clear your head.

You had “cleared your head” plenty since arriving at the house, usually for your viewers in the middle of the night when you weren't getting any other work done. The first time, the only feedback you got was Felix telling you to partially cover up with a blanket to appear a little more modest. You ventured down to your room, sitting on your bed and flicking through Twitter. It felt odd seeing your friends and fans and not talking to them, but it was still nice to see what everyone was up to. Everyone looked so productive that it sort of made your heart hurt, like you were missing out. Even Duckie, one of your streaming friends you’d met when you first started, was on a sabbatical for work but was still uploading old content to keep things fresh, along with some new selfies. You clicked through to his profile, scrolling through and liking his new posts and really feeling like you were missing out now. Previously, you’d considered hitting him up to possibly ask him over to collaborate, actually meet him and see his face for once and fool around, but you always felt too small, too amateur since he got started a couple years before you. You jumped through all sorts of imaginary hoops to justify your belittlement in regards to this guy who you only knew by his username. Even tapping through selfies of him wearing the necklace you got him as a birthday present, you knew that was just a thing friends did, but not friends like you were curious to be. For God's sake, he was even still occasionally wearing the cute pair of expensive briefs you got him as a not-so-secret Santa gift a year ago, but he remained unapproachable in your mind. Maybe once the show wrapped you could consider it again.

And, you suddenly realized, you’d used up almost half an hour aimlessly scrolling and browsing. You checked the time -- so much for clearing your head. You got up, ready to try to get some work done, and grabbed your laundry basket. You headed upstairs, hesitating just a moment before knocking on Chan’s door. Should you say something? You wouldn’t even be sure what to say by now, to try and figure out what his problem was with you. By now, you were thoroughly convinced that's what it was: a problem.

Chan opened up, taking one look at you with a sigh before fetching his laundry. “You don't have to suck up to me, you know,” he muttered as he rummaged behind his half-closed door, “I don't have anything to offer you.”

Yup, you confirmed, he has a problem with me.

“Then tell me to stop,” you simply replied.

“Why would I do that?” He asked as he set his clothes into the basket in your hands. “Appearances are important. You're being paid to work here, and I'm being paid to work here while you work. Don't let me get in the way of that. Goodnight, noona.” And with that, Chan briskly shut the door in your face.

You sighed as you stormed down the stairs. You had done nothing but be nice to this prick, and he thought you were getting something out of him?

You sort of are, stupid, you silently chided yourself.

You quickly sorted Chan’s laundry in with the rest of the boys’ and stomped back into your room, pacing in your annoyance when you heard someone descend the stairs. Maybe, perhaps, this was a good opportunity to turn this energy into something productive. But who could be down here at this time of night? You got your answer as you heard some weights being pulled off the rack out in the gym.

Of course, you realized, Changbin.

Changbin had given you an equally quizzical look earlier during yoga, and now seemed like a perfect time to catch him while he was distracted.

You emerged from your room in a more comfortable outfit than you'd worn that morning: just some leggings and a sports bra, your hair pulled up and out of your face again as you stepped onto the treadmill. The sound of weights being rested tipped you off, and you took off your headphones as you looked back.

“Oh, Changbin,” you greeted, pretending to pause the music you hadn't been playing, “I didn’t know you were out here. I can--”

“No, noona, don’t be sorry,” Changbin replied as he looked you over, “there's plenty of room for both of us.” He gingerly laid back down on the bench before starting to lift again. You let yourself ogle the way his muscles tensed as he worked out. After all, you could get some information and get some work done if you played your cards right. Changbin looked down his nose at you, catching you watching him before you quickly turned back to the treadmill to program it. You did, however, catch his small smirk before you looked away.

“Thanks for inviting me to yoga again,” you called over your shoulder.

“Of course -- noona --” he shared between lifts, “I’d love -- to have you -- back again.”

“Don’t you mean ‘we’d love to have you back again?’”

“No--” he breathed out a laugh as he took a second to catch his breath again, “I mean I would. Maybe Minho, with how he looks at you. And the others. Well, not Chan-hyung, but--”

“I know,” you cut in, just agitated enough for Changbin to catch. What he didn’t catch, however, was you still hadn’t programmed the treadmill by the time he started lifting again. You stepped off and strode over, hesitating for only a moment to let him sense you before swinging a leg over and gently lowering yourself onto his lap where he laid on the bench. Changbin gasped and nearly fumbled the bar before you helped him get a grip and rest it.

“Chan-hyung told me about you,” he warned, quietly but confidently.

“He what?” You asked, astounded. The audacity of this prick.

“I asked him what his deal was with you. He told me about bit players who try to weasel their way into bigger parts on variety shows.”

“Oh, god, and you believed him?” You asked bluntly.

“Well, I mean--” Changbin grumbled, looking a little caught.

You rolled your eyes. “I just happen to like you and the others and look where that gets me.”

“You like me?” He asked, and it was almost innocent. Changbin's hands still held onto the bar where he'd racked his weights, almost like he was trying to keep from grabbing onto your hips that had just started to subtly grind against his.

“Of course I do,” you cooed. For his sake, you weren't even lying -- you did like him and the others. “You're handsome and funny and nice and so fit,” you praised. Changbin actually moaned under his breath as your fingers traced the definition of his abdomen under his shirt, teasing the lines of his hips that would eventually lead you down between his legs. Considering your bruised ego from earlier that night, your head had inflated tenfold since then, watching as Changbin grew breathless at how you rolled your hips against his growing erection.

“How about you?” You asked, finally setting a treat on the mousetrap. “Do you like me?”

“Yes, noona,” he eagerly supplied, watching as you slid off his lap and down onto your knees in front of the bench. He groaned as you freed his length from his thin shorts. You only licked the tip of his cock and he cursed under his breath. “You sure you’re a housekeeper?” He smirked, gritting his teeth as you continued teasing the tip of his length with your tongue. “You don't act like one.”

“Well, have you met any who wanted to do this before?” You asked before taking his length deep between your lips. You pulled off him with an audible ‘pop’ and jerked his cock.

“No, but I'm enjoying it,” he gasped as you dipped him deep into your mouth again, now threatening to suck him into your throat. “Maybe too much. Come here,” he demanded, grabbing your hand and pulling you up onto his lap again. He kissed you hard, his tongue tangling with yours as he got up and spun you around to sit you on the edge of the bench. It was his turn to sink to his knees in front of you as he pushed your thighs up to your chest. He pulled your leggings to your knees and you bit into your knuckle as you felt his tongue taste you between your legs. Changbin hungrily licked at you for a minute, his fingers getting a good feel inside you before he got back up. The head of his cock nudged up against you.

“Noona, do you--”

“Call me ‘baby’,” you insisted.

“Really? I was about to ask--”

“Call me ‘baby’, or ‘beautiful’, or ‘slut’ or literally anything else,” you demanded, and Changbin nodded. Admittedly, being everyone's noona was starting to grow a little thin, but now you were more intrigued by the flush on his cheeks.

“If we’re in the mood to ask for things,” he carefully began, the head of his length still prodding against you, “can you call me ‘daddy’?”

“Really?” You smirked sweetly. His nod was almost sheepish. “Please fuck me, daddy,” you pouted, and with a sharply whispered curse, Changbin sank into you. You whimpered for effect, holding onto your legs where he had them pinned to your chest.

“That's it, baby, you're so tight like this,” he groaned as he fucked you, his hands holding tight onto your knees.

“Not so loud, daddy,” you quietly pleaded, “the others might hear--”

“Hear what, baby? How well you're taking it?” He grinned as his hips pumped hard against you. You moaned loud, biting into your knuckle as Changbin worked over your pussy. “Tell me how you want to cum, baby,” he implored, “I want to make it happen before I fill you up.”

You groaned from his filthy words, surprising you since Changbin had been mostly quiet up until now. “I want to ride your face, daddy,” you whined sweetly.

Changbin smirked as he pulled out of you, tugging your leggings the rest of the way off and helping you off the bench. He laid down, his head right at the edge. “Come here, baby. I want to taste you again.” He gasped as you lowered yourself, but positioned so you could still tease and suck his hard length. “What’re you doing?” He asked, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your warm pussy.

“I want to taste you again, too,” you smiled, squeaking out a moan as his hands pulled your thighs down so he could lick you. Changbin ate you like he was starving, groaning and humming against you as he tried not to buck into your mouth. You moaned and sighed around the cock in your mouth, your legs trembling from propping yourself up over Changbin’s face as you rolled your hips against his tongue. Just his enthusiasm alone was pushing you closer to orgasm -- not a big one, but still jolting through to your fingertips and making you cry out and gag on his length when it happened.

“Come on, baby,” Changbin prodded, “I’m not finished with you yet.” He helped you back up, slipping his shirt off to wipe up his chin as he bent you over on the bench. His fingers dipped back into your sensitive pussy, scissoring inside you and feeling you out before he slid his cock deep inside you again. From this angle, he stretched you even more than he had when you were on your back, and you whined from the extra stimulation. One hand roughly gripped your hip and the other grabbed at your breasts as he roughly fucked you.

“How close did I get you, daddy?” You smirked back over your shoulder.

“Too close, baby, but I'm going to fuck you as long as I can.” Changbin landed a playful smack on your ass as he pumped into you, groaning in tandem with your moans as he rolled his hips. He hadn’t lied; it was really only a few more minutes before his breathing was tagged and he sounded like he was right on the brink. You just needed to seal the deal.

“Is daddy gonna cum?” You asked sweetly.

“Yes baby,” he panted, “how do you want it?”

“How do you want to give it to me?”

Changbin thought for a moment, his hips still snapping against you as he decided. “I want to watch you swallow it down, baby.”

You happily cooperated as he swiftly pulled out, pulling you off the bench and turning you around before you landed on your knees in front of his dripping cock. Just to get him there, you dipped his length deep into your mouth, the head nudging into your throat as his moans grew more desperate. You sucked his cock deep for a few more strokes, gagging on it hungrily before Changbin came with a deep groan. He threw his head back but quickly got his eyes back on you just in time to watch you pull off and let the rest of his load spurt into your waiting mouth. You looked up into his eyes as you graciously swallowed everything. Changbin pulled you to your feet and muffled your surprised moan as he kissed you deeply, his tongue greedily tasting his cum on your own.

“Thanks, noona,” he laughed breathlessly, still holding your hand.

“Thanks, daddy,” you winked, loving the red tinting his cheeks now that the haze of sex was starting to dissipate from his brain.

“First time doing anything like that,” he smirked, “maybe we can do it again.” Changbin squeezed your hand and kissed your cheek before gathering his shirt up and heading upstairs. He didn't catch the puzzled look on your face as you searched for one of the cameras in the basement. You gave a sarcastic curtsey to the nearest one before retreating to your room.

Like clockwork, a soft knock sounded at the door only a few minutes later. Jeongin had turned out the lights in the basement and was dutifully waiting for you with a bottle of water and his small messenger bag, which you had gathered over the past few days was actually full of next to anything you might need, including extra birth control methods and hygiene products. For all intents and purposes, he was a great assistant to have on set.

“Jeongin,” you whispered in the silent darkness of the basement, “I'm confused about something.”

“What is it, noona?”

“So far both Minho and Changbin have said they've never done anything like this before. Any idea why they would broadcast that this is their first AV like that? No one likes boy amateurs like they do girls.”

“Didn't think about it,” Jeongin shrugged, “but Felix told me the cast is really committed to playing up their studious personalities, like they're won over by you in the midst of filming their other show.”

“So they’re doing a pure and tempted bit?” You asked. You weren't one to question the big boss, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. Jeongin shrugged again.

“That’s a question for the PD’s, but I think that’s about right.”

“Can I meet with Felix about it? I just want to know I'm following the right direction.”

“Sorry, noona,” Jeongin shrugged again, “Felix said no meetings except for urgent matters. He wants to maintain the atmosphere in the house. Goodnight.”

And as quickly as he came, Jeongin was gone, having crept up the stairs back up to the attic to keep watch. You turned back to the warm light of your room, made a little cuter by now with some of the decorations you’d brought from your small apartment. Thoughts swirled around your head, wondering how to be as committed to maintaining a vibe for the show like the boys were. You set about folding and putting away your laundry, keeping busy as you thought.

When you noticed two pairs of your panties were missing.

[To be continued.]

#skzsmutnet #kprose-net #stray kids smut #changbin smut #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

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weirdponytail · 4 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Night Terrors, Pt. 2

Constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

Part 1 // PART 2

~~~

Beneath the rumble of the thunder and the crash of the lightning he heard a faint 'thudthudthud' from his living area.

"Who the hell…" Concerned, the elf tossed off his sheets and pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers. After more than seven months of learning how to do simple tasks both with and without his prosthetic, Glen managed to get the pants on only a few seconds slower than he would have with the prosthesis. He deftly pulled on a plain white t-shirt to cover the end of his scar covered shoulder, the prosthetic on its stand beside his bed, and made his way to the front door.

Instead of the louder bangs that he had heard earlier, the only sound emitting from the door now were a series of soft, regular 'thunk...thunk...thunk' noises. He frowned, confused, and peered out the viewer into the night.

Once she was inside Glenwing returned to a crouch and, supporting the woman's weight with his chest, slipped his head under one of her arms as shifted his grip to her opposite side. "Hey, can you hear me? Arya?"

"Let me die…." The woman's head lolled against his shoulder, eyes half open. "It hurts...can't do it again…."

"Not going to happen, Cee-Oh. You're a tough lil' spitfire of a lady, so we're going to stand on three, okay? One, two, three!" Glen heaved them both up, staggering as the added weight on his uninjured side nearly unbalanced him. He managed to get to the couch and fall backwards, wincing as his former commander's elbow dug into his stomach. "Good job, Ari. Good job." A flicker passed through Arya's eyes at the words.

"It hurts…" The woman gripped his shirt, appearing a little more aware of her surroundings. "Glen...I can't do this…."

"Take it easy, Arya. Don't worry, you're not alone. Can I take your jacket off? You're soaking wet." Arya shook her head, looking terrified at the very idea. "Okay, that's okay. Can we at least get you washed up, rinse out that cut on your he–"

"NO!" The shout came both verbally and mentally, a short spike of terror that left a sizable dent in his mental defenses. Glenwing leapt off the couch and away from his friend as a pistol suddenly appeared between them, torn from the belt slung haphazardly from shoulder to hip. "No water!" She shouted at him, a mixture of fury and pure fear on her blood streaked face.

Then the gun slipped from her fingers, the color draining from her skin as she wrapped her arms around her middle. "'Think 'm gonna be sick."

Glen carefully moved behind couch and to the kitchen and snatched up the bucket he used for cleaning. He came back around and set it in Arya's lap, grabbing the pistol and unlatching the belt as he did so. She didn't comment, only slid to the floor and dry heaved into the small bucket, coughing and sputtering as nothing came up.

When she finished, shakily curling into a half ball on her side, Glen sat cross legged next to her on the floor and leaned against the couch. "You okay?"

Arya shook her head. "It hurts."

"Your stomach?"

"Back. Head. Everything."

"Can I touch your shoulder?" He asked softly. The woman nodded, and when the male elf gently set his remaining hand on her arm she grabbed it and held onto it as if seeking a lifeline back into the present.

They sat like that for a long time, the rain pounding on the roof and the thunder rumbling through the forest.

Arya slowly seemed to relax slightly. Her grip on Glen's hand never released, but she moved closer to him, her upper back lightly brushing the outside of his leg. He took it as a sign that she was feeling a bit more grounded and asked, "Can I heal your head?"

"Yes." She mumbled, exhausted and pale. Whatever she had seen and felt had ripped through what little progress in sleep she had made, and it left her cold and shaking. "Please."

"I might need my kit." Glen told her softly, squeezing her shoulder. "I need to get up and get it. Will you be okay?"

"…Maybe."

"Do you want to hold on to something? Dog tags? A pillow?" The medic smiled as his former CO reached up and dragged one of the small pillows off the couch and released him. With her free hand she clutched at the dog tags around her neck, running her thumb over the raised letters of each. "Okay. I'll be right back."

'That might actually help.'

A few moments later he was back at the couch, setting his collected items down. "I'm back." Arya nodded a little and Glen sat, patting his leg. The woman scooted closer and rested her head on the offered knee, familiar with the methods he'd had for caring for head wounds she or Fäolin would acquire in the field. "I'm going to ask you a question that might scare you. There's all sorts of debris in this cut. I can rinse it out with cleaning solution or I can clear it with magic."

Glenwing saw the other elf's throat convulse, and for a moment he was afraid she would slip back into her memories or start gagging again. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she gripped her tags in a white knuckled grip as she shook her head. "No…water. No water."

"Clear it with magic, then?"

"…Magic."

As Glen gently moved her mud caked hair away from the still trickling wound, his mind reverted back to that of the battlefield medic and bodyguard he had been before that night months ago. The cut wasn't deep, but like all head wounds it had bled profusely. The mud had helped stop the bleeding somewhat as it dried, and with a light touch he gently brushed the larger pieces of dirt away before breaching the flow of magic in his mind and murmuring a spell to remove the debris from the gash. Once it was clear, he set about healing it completely.

"There." Glen set his hand on Arya's arm as the last bit of skin flowed together. "All healed up." To his confusion, Arya shook her head. "Are you hurt somewhere else?" She nodded. "Tell me."

The woman hugged the pillow closer to her chest and buried her face into it, pulling away from her friend. "Back…Back's open again."

Glenwing felt a tingle shoot down his metal arm. There would be much more blood if the scars on her back had opened. He almost asked 'are you sure?' before he caught himself, one of his own memories giving him pause.

He sat in Rhunön's shop, remaining hand clenched at his hip as he screamed at the sky "It still hurts!" Then the wizened blacksmith had marched out from her forge, interrupted from shaping the plates of his prosthetic, and slapped him across the face hard, shouting for him to unclench his fingers. When he finally did she seized his hand and slapped it on the end of his stump, her rough fingers holding his in place.

"Feel that?" Rhunön had snapped. "It's gone! You have no nerves down there anymore. It hurts, I know. But you have to make your brain remember that it is gone." Glen had shivered and tears streamed down his face as he did as she told him, rubbing the thick pink scars that marked where his shoulder now ended.

And the pain had eased.

If it felt real to her, he had to show her that the past was not lingering in the present.

"Alright. Then we need to take your jacket off." Arya shivered but still eased herself up from the floor and pulled her arms from the sleeves, shedding the garment by tugging the hem on the back so that it fell from her shoulders.

"Arya, I'm going to pull the back of your shirt up, okay?" Glenwing warned her as he brushed her loosened braid over her shoulder. When she gave a shaky nod of approval, he carefully pulled the cloth up until it was midway up her back and held out his hand by her side. "Give me your hand." When she paused, Glen touched two fingers where he knew the Yawë was inked into her skin. "Vae hávr yawë, fyrn-darmthral."

She relaxed, the undeniable truth of his words putting her more at ease, and let him take her hand.

Slowly, gently, Glenwing guided Arya's hand to the exposed skin of her back. She flinched when her fingers first brushed it, then sucked in a breath when he ran her hand over the first scar, the burns that raked her side. When she didn't react beyond that, he continued, letting her fingertips glide over the healed rents in her skin.

After a long moment, Arya spoke, her voice no longer strained with pain but slightly disbelieving and oddly awed. "They never opened."

"They never opened." Glenwing confirmed, again abandoning his spot on the couch to sit next to her on the floor. "How do you feel?"

Arya was silent, then she grunted, "Sore as all hell."

"That's expected. You headbutted my door hard enough to make a Kull proud."

"I probably woke up half of Tildarí hall." The woman groaned and put her face in her hands, mortified, then pulled back with a mildly surprised expression. "I'm covered in mud."

Glen couldn't help but grin a little. "Yes. Yes, you are. You wouldn't let me clean you up. You, my friend, are in desperate need of a shower."

Arya shuddered from head to toe and her eyes flicked to the window, where rain continued to pour down from the heavens. "I don't want to be near water for a while." She rubbed her upper arms as goose bumps flared over her damp skin.

"Here." Glenwing picked up the jacket he had retrieved from the closed room.

"This is Fäolin's, isn't it?" She didn't look at him with any anger or accusation, only a strange relief as if the scent of her lost love had chased away the final demon lingering in her mind.

"Yeah." Glenwing gently grinned back at her. "I figured you could use something familiar."

"Thank you, Glen." They sat together in comfortable silence, the fluffy towels bunched around them on the floor seeped in their body heat. "What time is it?"

Glen checked the digital readout on his arm. "Ah, almost Oh-Four-Hundred." Arya started to stand, apologizing profusely for waking him up in the middle of the night. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. "Hey, hey, stay! I'm not letting you out of my sight for a while. You nearly beat my door in with your head, so I need to watch you for signs of a concussion." He chuckled. "I'll need your help fixing the dent you put in the paneling when morning comes, too."

Arya paused, considering it. It was still raining, and she didn't want to risk triggering another episode by going out in the deluge. Plus, she very well couldn't go back home until she had washed up, which might be some time in coming as the very thought of even wiping her face with a wet washcloth made her throat tighten. She could change clothes from the go bag she kept in Fäolin's room and just tell Islanzadí that Glen had called her over early in the morning for another lesson on how to repair his prosthetic. If she even asked.

"Okay, fine. Can I take the couch?" A flicker of confusion flashed across Glenwing's face, and he started to gesture back towards the closed room in the hallway. "I don't…I don't want to sleep in his bed without him." Arya murmered, jamming her fists into the pockets of Fäolin's jacket.

Glen's face softened. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that. You can take the couch. You know where everything is, right?" She nodded. "Okay. I'll keep my door open, so if anything happens all you need to do is call me and I'll be out here in a heartbeat. All set? Okay." He smiled and stood, patting his former commander on the head while she swatted his arm in good natured retaliation. "Good night, Arya."

"Glen, wait." He turned to see Arya leaning with her arms folded over the back of the couch. She touched her first two fingers to her lips. "Elrun ono, Glenwing-Vor, fyrn-darmthrell." And she added in the common elvish tongue, "For everything. You pulled me out of a second hell."

Glenwing bowed with his orange fist twisted on his chest. "Onr astorí, Arya, fyrn-darmthral." He straightened and moved into his room with a tired wave. "Sleep well."

And for the first time in weeks, she did.

Translations

(Most of these are very rough and cobbled together from words that are similar to what I was trying to convey with a few alterations, so it is not exact.)

Vae hávr yawë, fyrn-darmthral– 'You can trust me, war-sister.' Literally translates to 'We have a bond of trust, war sister.'

Elrun ono, Glenwing-Vor, fyrn-darmthrell– 'Thank you, Glenwing, war-brother.' Vor is an honorific for a close male friend

Onr astorí, Arya, fyrn darmthral– 'You're welcome, Arya, war-sister.'

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #modern inheritance story #eragon #arya #glenwing #night terrors #the two shot that started it all #well started this current and longest iteration anyway #ptsd #scars #faolin gets a mention #flashbacks #mic canon amputee character

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

Text

radio silence - jimin x reader

A/N: thank you all so much for 1k followers! It means the world to me that you’re reading and enjoying my stories, and I hope you’ll continue to support me in the future xx Jimin decides to indulge his exhibition kink while at the biggest music awards show on the planet. Warnings for sexually explicit content: ass play, toys, overstimulation, sub!Jimin, dom!Reader, exhibitionism/voyeurism. 2.4k.

“Happy Anniversary?”

You frown at the uncertain lilt in your boyfriend’s voice. “Jimin, I don’t really want to wear these in public.”

He brushes his hair back only for it to fall in his face again. “The vibrating panties aren’t for you, baby, they’re for me.”

Oh. Adventurous was always a word you’d use to describe your and Jimin’s sex life, but it seemed over time he was becoming more open with just how kinky he was. Not that it put you off; on the contrary, ever since he told you last April that he was a switch rather than the dom he had previously behaved like, your sex life was better than ever. Every time he revealed something new to you, it drew you both closer and led to some exciting times.

“Okay, baby. I’ll take you to a restaurant or something and we can see how good your poker face is, hm?”

He shakes his head. “I was thinking something… a little bigger.”

You inspect the panties; scant amount of lace just sturdy enough to house a vibrating patch near the front and a small plug in the back. “I’m sure we could switch out the butt plug for a larger one if you want, baby.”

“Not that.” Jimin drops his shoulders and tilts his head in his classic begging pose. “You know the Grammys are coming up.”

“Jimin.” You stare at him with an open mouth, but he just smiles wider. “We can’t do that. What if you get caught? It’s too risky.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I like it. Look, let this be my anniversary present, sweetheart. This is all I ask for. I know you love seeing me holding back when we’re in public. Remember the v-live?”

You swallow hard. Jimin readily admitted to you that he got the idea from a fanfiction he had read of himself, a habit you found equally amusing and disturbing. Suck him off while he was live to all the ARMY around the world. He had held up well, your good boy, but in the end had to pretend to stub his toe and disappear off camera when he came.

“It’s the exact same thing,” he insists, “come on, sweetheart.”

“It’s not,” you protest, though you can feel yourself giving in, “this is national television, and your full body will be on display. There’s no stepping out of frame in real life, Jimin. What, are you going to walk down the red carpet with a cum stain on the front of your pants?”

It’s meant to be an argument against this, but with the way Jimin’s eyes darken, you know you weren’t effective. “If you do this for me, I’ll do anything you want when we get home?”

You bite your lip. “Anything?”

Jimin leans forward, taking the panties out of your hands so he can interlock your fingers. “Take care of me tomorrow night, and I’ll take care of you afterwards, I promise.”

You sigh, but you’re too weak to say no. “Give me the instruction manual, I want to do my research, so I know exactly how to ruin you. I’ll make you regret ever asking me for this.”

He licks his lips sinfully. “I look forward to it.”

Perhaps the most embarrassing moment of Jimin’s life to date (and there had been many) was having the stylist who helped him tailor his suit catch a slip of baby pink lace poking out from his waistband, but now that you and him were seated, side-by-side at the show, he knew it was worth it.

There were hundreds of world-famous celebrities here tonight, plus cameramen circling like vultures to relay the event to millions of viewers at home. The show had begun airing a little over ten minutes ago, and you were yet to do anything.

To his disappointment, you hadn’t even given him a little taste when he was doing red carpet interviews. But the plug pressed deliciously against him as he sat down, and the anticipation was heightening his senses like never before.

Occasionally, you would reach innocently into your purse as you chatted across him to Taehyung, and Jimin would stiffen, waiting for the vibrations to kick in, but then you’d remove your hand to be holding lip balm or a tissue, and he’d go lax against his chair. No one had picked up on it yet, but you could certainly tell it was sending him wild. A brush against his crotch as you reached over to fix Tae’s suit cuffs told you he was rock hard.

You had done your research as promised; had spent an afternoon with the instruction manual and the goods themselves, seeing how powerful each setting was, and you had also memorized the category that would come before Artist of the Year, the one BTS had been nominated for. Perhaps it was time to give him a little taste.

You glanced over. He was currently half-twisted in his seat, bending back to pitch in to Yoongi and Hoseok’s conversation about the most recent performance. Every now and again, his eyes flickered back casually to make sure you hadn’t bent down to stick your hand in your bag.

Little did Jimin know, the tiny remote was in your pocket this whole time. You smirked, pretending to listen in, and deftly reached down into your pocket, waiting for him to start speaking.

“…seemed kinda rushed, I guess?” Hoseok shrugged. “Of course, the tempo to the song is offbeat, so it makes sense that he would fall a little out of time.”

Jimin nodded. “Actually, I picked up on that too. The bit just after the chor-uh!”

You kept your cool as he whirled around to you with wide eyes, glancing down at your hand where it rested in your pants pocket. “Chor-uh? I hope your speech has better pronunciation than that.”

Yoongi smirks and Hoseok laughs out loud, but Jimin’s still staring at you with wide, honeyed eyes. Minute movements direct your gaze briefly to his crotch, where he’s shuffling slightly against his seat for more friction. You had discovered the other day, to your delight, that the butt plug also vibrated, and no doubt he was trying to find a position where it would rest against his prostate. He laughs off-pitch. “Well, I doubt we’re going to win anyway.”

“We’ll win,” Yoongi says confidently, leaning back in his seat. “So, now might be a good time to rehea- Jimin, are you okay? We have time, don’t worry.”

Jimin’s stiff in his chair, face blank. While Yoongi spoke, you had decided to test out the pulse function at a higher vibration. Clearly, it felt good. You nudged him lightly with your foot, twisting the dial to lower the speed enough for him to talk. “Uh, y-yeah, I’m good. I think it just kicked in, ha. We’re at the Grammys, nominated for the biggest award in music. Wild.”

Taehyung pokes him playfully in the thigh and Jimin jerks at the contact. “Relax, hyung. We deserve this, you know? We’ve worked hard, and ARMY are right here with us.”

The reminder that the world was watching caused Jimin to bite his lip and flutter his eyelashes in lust, glancing around the stage. “Shh, the announcement is starting,” he mutters shakily, although the presenters are still sharing awkward banter up on stage.

The three men around him shrug in confusion, but acquiesce, and fall silent. You take the silence as a good indicator to turn the panties off. As much as you love teasing Jimin when he’s like this, you know he wouldn’t really want his members hearing a buzzing sound emanating from his pants.

He arches his back a little and pouts when the vibrations cease, giving you an imploring gaze. “Sweetheart, can you let me out of the row? I need to use the bathroom.”

You stare at him hard as you stand and lean in to whisper harshly in his ear as he passes. “You better not jerk off in there or I’m putting it on high and throwing away the remote.”

He shudders instinctively, shaking his head. “I’ll be noona’s good boy.”

You sit back down, patting him lightly on the ass as he leaves.

“Man, he’s been odd today,” Hoseok muses, “more hyper than Jin this morning, and now he’s all moody. What’s gotten into him?”

You cough behind your hand to hide your grin. What’s gotten into him, indeed. “He’s probably just stressed about the award. It’s a big deal for you guys.”

Hoseok hums in agreement. “You can say that again. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night.”

Slowly, the others return to their conversations, Jimin comes back and sits down again, staying silent for the most part as he waits for you to play with him again, but you rest your hand in your pocket and leave the panties off.

After just under an hour of heightened expectation, Jimin notices the way you perk up as Album of the Year is called out. You know that after this, their category is up, so it’s time for a little more fun.

You lean over to him, hand still in pocket and fondling the on switch. With your other hand over your mouth to cover your lips, aware of a cameraman less than five meters away, you whisper in Jimin’s ear. “Are you ready to be a good boy for me again?”

He keeps his eyes lidded, staring into the middle distance, but nods wordlessly.

You reach down and link your free hand with his. Just enough PDA to keep the camera on you as you turn the panties back on, still on the pulse function, high enough that you can feel the tremors radiate down his thigh where your hands rest. “Feels good?” you ask softly.

He nods again, his body completely stiff. Jimin’s eyes fly open when they’re announced as a nominee, and his strained face is blasted on the big screen along with his other members. He waves with his free hand, clutching tightly onto you with his other.

You smirk at the plan you’d devised, racketing the vibrations up another notch as the envelope is opened. You were going to get Jimin right up to that edge, hold him there, then, just as he walked up to collect the award, take everything away.

Make him give a thank you speech to ARMY with a straining erection, cock weeping from a denied orgasm. Then, after keeping him hard with periodic playtime, you’d wait until he was in the van with you and the other members and make him cum in front of them.

As much as he probably wanted you to make him cum right here, you were just too worried about the risks, so you’d switch it off and take the safer route.

“BTS!”

As expected, their name is called out, and Jimin forgets about the panties and jumps up to celebrate. You beam, genuinely happy for him and all that he had achieved. When he walks up towards the stage with the rest of them, you turn the dial up to high, and change pulse setting to more frequent pulses. You watch with a grin as his back goes ramrod straight, and he falls a little behind, bringing up the rear as he stumbles arm-in-arm with Taehyung.

The seven of them bundle up around the microphone, Yoongi with the award in hand and Namjoon beginning the speeches with an overwhelmed smile on his face. Jimin glances down and sends a you a pleading look, and you know the way his knees wobble just slightly that he’s close. Showtime.

You wave over to him with a sly grin, and reach down and switch off the remote. Your smile drops.

Instead of looking frustrated at his denial of release, his eyes are wide and he’s biting his lip hard. You frown, hastily pulling the remote out of your pocket to check. You’ve definitely switched it off, so why is he still acting like that.

As he crumples his face and shuffles behind Taehyung, hiding his crotch from the cameras, you swear internally. You remember reading somewhere on the manual about the distance of the signal. The remote had to be in range of the panties for the Bluetooth function to work. The panties were probably still going full bore, as the command to switch off couldn’t reach them.

You stare at the stage with wide eyes, watching the way Jimin is grabbing handfuls of Taehyung’s jacket and burying his face into his shoulder. Namjoon wraps up his speech and steps aside just as Tae is sending Jimin a concerned stare. You know they didn’t have much time, and so only Namjoon and Jimin were going to say something, but it seemed like Jimin was right in the middle of an orgasm on national television.

His shoulders shake, and the audience began to coo noisily, assuming he was crying. When he finally lifts his head up and shuffles shakily to the mic, he has a red face and tears in his eyes. No doubt the vibrations were too much right after cumming.

He coughs weakly, smiling with watery eyes. “ARMY, I love you!” What was meant to be a yell broke off halfway through, and the viewers ‘aww’-ed again. He quickly left the stage, not caring about other members following behind, and you noticed that the moment he was three rows in front of you, the tension in his face and body melted away and his head tipped back. He reached you, panting and waiting in the aisle to let the others file in past you before he did.

When he collapses onto his seat, exhausted, you turn to him to apologize and explain, but he leans in and nibbles at your earlobe playfully, the same endearing action he always did after getting his way. “Thank you, noona,” he sighs blissfully, “that was fucking amazing.”

You bite your lip and search his face when he leans back, but you can tell he’s being honest. “I’m glad,” you reply with a soft smile, “I’m looking forward to you repaying the favor tonight.

Jimin just chuckles and tips his head back to rest on your shoulder. “Me too.”

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts fic #sub jimin #jimin x reader #btssmutclub

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heartbeatan · 5 years

Text

Woman On Top (Chapter 7)

Return to Chapter 6.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 7

You didn’t feel any better the next morning. Your night had been sleepless once again. You had texted Jungkook another sexy picture with the caption “thinking about you” and he never responded. The whole night your mind spun with the reasons why he couldn’t have answered. Was he angry with you still? Was he with her? Did he just happen to fall asleep?

Needless to say, you were going crazy. When did this whole arrangement become so complicated and so full of angst?

It even affected your work – but not really. You didn’t have any slip up’s or mistakes on set, but you felt like exhausted shit and you felt as if you looked like exhausted shit. You were unconfident and unmotivated. It wasn’t how you would normally approach a workday. You had to be on top of your game everyday, but today you didn’t feel on top. It was your last day on set as well and you had to transfer everything you knew to Sangwoo before your plane tomorrow morning. It had been a while since you took on this type of role and you hated that you appeared rusty or incompetent. What you hated even more though was being around Jungkook like this - afraid of him seeing your flaws.

But as far as you could tell, he didn’t see them, because he didn’t notice you, or look at you. You hated that the most. Once his hidden glances irritated you, thinking he was being to reckless, but now you wanted nothing more than for him to acknowledge you.

During break, you went to the bathroom and splashed your face with cold water.

“Pull yourself together,” you said to your reflection. She stared back at you, giving you no answers to your problems. You ran your fingers over the dark circles below your eyes and huffed in annoyance, before reaching for the compact you kept in your purse.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you were so distracted trying to mentally hype yourself up that you nearly crash hard into a figure coming down the hall.

“Oh, sorry,” you said as you looked up to see Jungkook. You felt immediately flustered. He looked back down at you, saying nothing. He didn’t give you that cute, crinkled smile of his. His demeanor was cold, and a little awkward. It was like you were two strangers – not like you had spent months together crying out each others’ names between sweat soaked sheets. What a contrast to the way you had been with each other not so many days ago.

“Sorry,” you said again before you sidestepped him and took off down the hall back to the set.

By noon you were done on set. Most of the day’s tasks were wrapped up for the weekend since so many were heading home before resuming on Monday. You had a final meeting with Sangwoo and, unless something else came up, you were free until your flight the next day. You decided to blow off steam – which may or may not have included day drinking at the cabana.

“We need to talk,” you suddenly heard Jungkook say and he pulled a chair up to your table. You looked around nervously.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” he sounded annoyed. “We’re not even allow to talk in front of people now?”

He was right. There was no reason you couldn’t – so long as the conversation wasn’t too revealing – but what else could you two possibly have to talk about presently?

“We can, just not right now,” you tried to hush him.

“Everything we do is on your time, Y/N. I want to have this convers-“

“Jungkook,” Kevin’s voice came from behind you. Kevin was standing there smiling warmly with a beer in each hand. “We were just going to have a drink, would you care to join us?”

You looked back to Jungkook, your eyes pleading with him to say “no.” You didn’t trust him right now to keep his cool. Despite getting the message, Jungkook replied “sure!”

Kevin gave each of you a drink then returned to the cabana to fetch another for himself.

“He will just not give up,” Jungkook seethed now that Kevin was out of earshot.

“It’s just work, Jungkook,” you tried to sooth him.

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t understand why it’s a problem. You never cared before – why does he have you so upset?”

“Really?” he cocked his eye patronizingly at you. “Really? You really don’t understand?” It felt as if he a stabbed you through the gut. You’re breath caught in your throat as you stared dumbfounded back at him. That creeping thought you had been burying all week, was he now going to confirm?

Thankfully, Kevin reappeared and Jungkook snapped back into the roll of casual acquaintance. Of course, most of the conversation was about work, since that was the one thing you had in common. Well… the one thing you all knew you had in common. But as burnt out Friday minds prevailed, you abandoned shop talk for anything else… politics, hobbies, sports… You continued as casually as possible, but it was obvious that Jungkook was the outsider in this conversation. You and Kevin just clicked so well socially. You were beginning to feel self-conscious and internally cringed each time Kevin brought up some inside story that exemplified how much you two had bonded over this week.

“Speaking of,” Kevin said as he took another sip of his beer and turned to you. “I wanted to talk to you about February.”

“February?” you lied and pretended as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. You weren’t really sure why you lied, other than in a split second you thought maybe it would hurt Jungkook less if it seemed like February wasn’t a big deal.

“Mr. Li’s chalet,” Kevin answered.

“Oh, right,” you said. What a failure.

“Are you two going to a chalet together?” asked Jungkook.

“I think so,” said Kevin.

“There’s a bunch of people going,” you shrugged your shoulders trying to imply it was no big deal. “Just a few CEOs and CFOs. Apparently, they do it every year.” Despite your attempts, Jungkook’s features hardened. Perhaps the casual observer wouldn’t have noticed, but you certainly did.

“I can’t wait to see you hit the slopes,” said Kevin.

Dammit. Stop Talking.

“You ski?” Jungkook turned to you. You nodded passively.

“She doesn’t just ski, she’s a national champion,” Kevin gushed.

“I… That’s not entirely true,” you replied. “I was a kid.”

“But you’re good,” Jungkook figured.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was a big part of my life for a long time.”

Jungkook’s subtle stiffness subsided, but it was replaced with… disappointment? Whatever it was, you felt bad. Why were you putting yourself through this?

“You know what,” you stood up from the table. Kevin – again the gentleman – stood as well. Jungkook looked a little lost as to why everyone was standing. “I actually have a headache. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while.”

“Are you okay? Can I walk you to your room?” Kevin asked.

“No, no. I’m fine please. I just need some alone time.”

“Okay, well… if you need anything call me. I can bring you something from the restaurant and we can eat in your room?”

Honestly, you were almost prepared to snap at Kevin to leave you the fuck alone. You just wanted to leave, and he was getting in the way of that while simultaneously fanning the flames between you and Jungkook. But you didn’t – he didn’t deserve that.

“No, thank-you. I’ll be down here around dinner time. If not, I’ll order room service.” With that you turned and headed off towards the elevators and away from Jungkook and Kevin. You didn’t actually have a headache, but you could feel one beginning to form.

Normally, when you felt this way, you would call Jungkook. Normally, he’d show up to give you sweet words, dirty words and multiple orgasms to take your mind from whatever work or life stressor was eating away at you. Today, however, Jungkook was the stressor. So today, instead of calling him, you kicked of your shoes and curled into bed hoping you could sleep the problem away.

A knock to the door woke you from a light sleep. You looked at the clock beside you – it had only been a bit over an hour. You peeled yourself from the bed just as another knock came from the door.

“Just a minute,” you called out as you made your way across the room. Dazed from the sudden wake up, you didn’t think to check the door viewer and when you opened, you were startled when the figure on the other side pushed aggressively into your room. But as quickly as you were startled you were quickly relieved to know the figure was Jungkook. He wore a black baseball cap and a black medical face mask - as if that would be able to stop people from recognizing him.

“What are you doing here,” you said in a hushed hysteria as you checked the hall for anyone who might have seen him.

“I wasn’t seen. Relax,” he said as he pulled off his cap and mask. You locked the door with a loud clank.

“We agreed, Jung-“

“No, you agreed,” he interrupted. “And I listened as always. That’s always how things go between you and me. You set the terms, and I follow like a good little soldier. You tell me when the timing is right, and I come running.”

You stared at him, dumfounded. You had never felt that way about your relationship with Jungkook – but obviously, he felt that way, and it had been eating away at him. You opened your mouth to say something but closed it again. You weren’t sure if you were wanting to apologize or wanting to protest. He continued before you could make up your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked skiing?” his tone was somber.

“I didn’t hide it from you, it just never came up,” you shrugged. He went silent. “Besides, if this week has proven anything, talking isn’t exactly our strong suit.” He nodded in agreement.

“We need to talk, though. This week is getting out of hand.” This time you nodded in agreement.

“We could have just done this over the phone, you didn’t need to risk someone seeing you here.”

“Fuck that,” he seethed. “Fuck them if they see us. I don’t care about them. This isn’t a conversation we can have over the phone. Why are you really so fucking afraid of someone seeing us?”

“I told you already.”

“I don’t believe you. There’s something else – what is it?”

The conversation was becoming more and more heated with every syllable. You could feel your face flush with anger as well. You turned away from him and stared out the windows towards the mezzanine below. As if he was summoned – the way he seemed to be summoned at every wrong time this week – you noticed Kevin walking out into the public space.

“Is he why?” You jumped a little. You didn’t notice how Jungkook had crept up right behind you. But now that he was there, you couldn’t stop your body from heating up from having him so close once again – even though you were in a fight.

“No,” you replied. “He’s not the problem.” Jungkook took a step closer. His broad, strong chest was maybe and inch or so from you and – fuck – did you ever want to press against it. Your agitation was beginning to subside the more you wanted his arms to wrap around you.

“You know he wants you so bad,” he rasped into your ear, and your body shuddered at the feel of his breath over your neck. His hands dropped to your sides, and he drew his palms up your outer thighs, catching the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, before they moved north over your hips. Finally, one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest, while the other grabbed a hold of your breast.

“Uhhh,” you keened into the feeling as you strung your head back to rest against his shoulder. “Jungkook, we can’t,” you whispered as you brought one arm back to caress the nape of his neck.

“I’m already here, baby. No one’s gonna know,” he whispered back. “Or are you afraid he won’t want you if he knows that I fuck you?”

Your eyes snapped open to meet his staring back. “That’s not it!”

“Are you sure?” he licked his teeth. “Look at him…” You narrowed your eyes at him, not sure of his game; but unwavering in expression he nodded towards the mezzanine and you looked down to the crowd below and found Kevin. As you did, Jungkook slid his hand up your skirt, hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, and slid them off your body.

“Do you see him?” he asked as the tips of his fingers began to slip their way under your skirt again.

“Yes,” you rasped. Jungkook cupped your heat, and your hips flexed into is grasp.

“What is he doing?”

“I don’t know,” nor did you care as your eyes fluttered shut when Jungkook slid a long finger firmly along your slit. “Shit!” You felt his fingers part your folds to expose your clit – but he didn’t touch it. You shuffled against him wanting him too.

“Look at him. Tell me what he’s doing,” he prompted you. You obeyed, opening your eyes and looking down at Kevin. He was seated on the patio, a menu in his hand. His head turned around the room often, as if he was looking for something or someone.

“He’s looking for me,” you whispered back to Jungkook.

“That’s right,” he said as he began to rub circles over your clit. “He’s been doing that all week. He wants so fucking bad what I have.”

“Nughhh,” you moaned. You liked the possessive way he spoke about you. You swiveled your hips back into Jungkook’s groin as he dug his fingers into your clit. You wanted more. More of him. You could feel against your ass that he wanted more of you too.

“Put your hands on the glass,” he commanded. You complied. As you did, Jungkook pulled the hem of your skirt over your waist. You were now bare and dripping for him from the waist down. You never loved the feeling of being exposed more than you did with Jungkook.

“Fuck,” you screamed as without warning, Jungkook slipped two fingers inside of you hard.

“Your so fucking wet already. You like this, huh?” he goaded as his fingers slammed into you again and he flapped them rapidly around inside you. “You like that I’m touching you, and he doesn’t know, yeah?”

Jungkook buried his thumb into your clit and you let out an “ohhh.” You couldn’t muster much else. Jungkook always managed to steal your breath.

“Just look at him,” he graveled as he continued to fuck you with his hand. “Down there, waiting for you. He has no idea we’re watching him. He has no idea I’m fucking you right now. He has no idea you’re such a slut for me.”

Your walls compressed around him and your nails scratched against the glass of the window. How was this charade getting you so hot?

“What he wouldn’t do to be me right now. What he wouldn’t give to fuck you half as good as I can.”

“Please, Jungkook,” you sobbed.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Look whose needy now,” he said with a satisfied hum. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather him?” he stopped his motions.

“No!” you nearly shed tears. “No, baby, I only want you. Please, I want you inside me.”

“Just me?” his words were thick and laced with meaning, but in your lustful stupor you didn’t notice.

“Yes, only you. I only ever want you.”

With a snap of his wrist, Jungkook had you turned around and his lips crashed against yours. Your back hit the glass of the window with a thud, and you two began to claw at each other like animals.

“Fuck,” you called out and Jungkook grabbed a hold of your shirt and in one swoop ripped the front open. You heard the buttons bounce off and fall to the floor before his lips came crashing against your breasts. But he didn’t stop there. He soon had the blouse off your shoulders and crumpled to the floor as he worked away at your skirt. He couldn’t get you naked fast enough.

You pulled at him, pulled at his clothes, pulled at his cock until he too was a naked, moaning mess before you. You two kissed and panted as if you had been running a marathon. So desperate and so needy to have each other, you weren’t even sure where you were anymore.

“Fuck me, please,” you managed to whine out again between his bruising kisses. He hooked his elbow under your one knee and split you wide open against the glass. “Please, Jungkook, I need you.”

“I need you too,” he whispered as he brought his cock to your folds. You keened at the feel of him rubbing his dick over you as he soaked himself in your wetness. Then finally – fucking finally – he brought himself to your entrance and buried himself inside you.

“Oh, God!” you moaned at the feeling. “Oh God, I’ve missed this!”

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he whispered against your lips. He began to thrust. Against the glass, he fucked you. It wasn’t soft, it wasn’t hard – it was desperate. Every roll of his hips meant something. Noise you made drove the other wild, and within mere minutes, you both found yourselves teetering on the ledge.

“I’m so close,” you sobbed.

“Me too.”

The days apart and the nights of torture had you both ready to spill, and soon your climax hit you – so fast you could even warn him it was happening.

“Ahhh!” you scratched your nails down his back and pulled his body tight against you. Your walls began to spasm around his cock that was throbbing inside of you, and each one brought you a new wave of pleasure. You were pretty sure Jungkook came too, but you couldn’t tell over the way he made you see the stars.

When it was over, the two of you remained still, against the glass, clutching onto each other as you caught your breath. He was still inside of you, and despite your leg beginning to ache, you didn’t want to lose the feeling.

Drunk from his orgasm, Jungkook pulled his face out of your neck and looked at you through euphoria filled eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

#bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut

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multipandombabe · 6 years

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The only reason for a fight

🍃 here! on the podcast david said the only reason he can imagine for getting in a physical fight is if someone was sexually harassing his girlfriend. so i used that as a prompt for this. also this is long as hell so if anyone actually reads the whole thing you have my heart:

“So are you gonna let me buy you a drink or what?” he asked.

Here you were standing in the shadow of some random stranger, a confident smile on his lips and a drunken brightness in his eyes. He had targeted you right next to the bar’s bathroom as you were walking out. He stopped you with a casual, “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” and as soon as he had your attention he was talking your ear off. He wanted to know your name, how old you were, what brought you to that bar, what you did for a living, on and on. You could see now that he was just massaging your ego a little before he swooped in with the question he’d been waiting to ask.

“Oh, sorry, no. I actually have a boyfriend,” you responded awkwardly. You scanned the crowded bar behind him at the mention of your boyfriend, trying desperately to find your escape.

Your eyes finally fell on David’s across the room and he looked at you inquisitively. You returned him a wide-eyed look. A plea for him to come rescue you from this uncomfortable moment. He understood the message and started to shuffle toward you through the fray.

“Oh what, he doesn’t let you drink?” the stranger asked with a patronizing smile. “Are you gonna get in trouble?”

“No,” you laugh feebly, trying to pretend his persistence wasn’t irritating you. “It’s no biggie, just think it would be a little weird.”

At that moment David reached you two. He was being tailed by a drunk Zane and a mostly sober Scotty.

“Speak of the devil,” you laughed, pointing him out to the guy you’d been speaking to. He whirled around to face David, standing quite a few inches over your boyfriend’s 5’10” frame. “This is him? Dude, you’re not taking care of your woman. Where’s her drink?” David rolled his eyes a little, but kept his cool. “Did you want something babe?” he asked, reaching out and placing a hand around your waist. He spun you around so that you stood next to him, facing this outsider in a pair. “Yeah, let’s go grab something,” you suggest, trying to lead the conversation to a natural close. This guy wasn’t about to let you get away that easy though. “Hmm see, you’re not keeping her satisfied man,” his voice shook a little with laughter at the double meaning in his own words. “Maybe I should take her off your hands.” “No thanks,” you quipped. “Alright sweetheart,” he said, hitting the dreaded word with brutal condescension. “Just let me know if you get bored with this guy and need someone who can show you a little fun.” He winked at you. “Yo dude, can you back the fuck off?” David asked. His voice was still calm. He was always level headed at his core, but you could feel the grip on your waist tighten a little. He was pissed, but good at hiding exactly how pissed. You figured you’d have to leave this bar soon after this or David would be staring daggers at this guy all night. “Chill David,” Zane slurred. “We’re all… friendsss here. And we’re just like hanging out so every— everybody relax.” The sight of a drunk Zane trying to mediate the little row made you laugh out loud. “Yeah he’s right, let’s go get that drink,” you giggled. “No more for Zane though. See you around man.” You gave a tiny wave and turned away from the stranger, happy your friends were there to diffuse the tension. The second you had pivoted, though, it seems you were wrong about that being the end of things. “See you baby,” he said and reached out a hand, smacking your ass hard. That motion was like lighting a stick of dynamite. This douchebag had accidentally triggered a Rube Goldberg machine of chaos and David was at the helm of it. When you had turned David’s feet had stayed planted for a split second longer. That was enough time for him to watch the man in front of him reach out and touch his girlfriend. Without warning. Without permission. And without remorse, which was clear from the laughter that painted his face. David swerved around your body, jostling you to the side. In a moment he was in this guy’s face, a venom in his voice you’d never heard before. “You don’t fucking touch her!” David shouted, spit flying out of his mouth at the man in front of him. “Fucking apologize asshole.” “And if I don’t?” he asked. He towered over David. Not only was he taller, but he was built too. David’s slender gait was no physical match for him. You could tell he knew this and to him there was no threat in provoking David. He was just having fun. “Or I’ll fucking kick your ass pussy,” David spat. “Yeah, I’d love to see that,” the stranger responded, laughing. You could see why he found the situation so funny. David had no chance in hell against him and a deep fear suddenly blared up your spine. “Dave, Dave please,” you tugged at him desperately. “It’s not worth it.” You really wanted to scream, “Look at him! He could kill you if he wanted to,” but you didn’t want to crush your boyfriend’s already bruised ego. You kept pulling, but it was no use. David wound back one of his hands, bound in a fist, and socked the stranger right across the face. He flinched. The punch surprised him, but he just shook it off and returned one to David. Unfortunately, the impact was much greater. So much greater that David was already laying face down on the floor by the time your brain registered everything and a scream left your mouth. You were blinded by your adrenaline and shock in the next moments. Time seemed to come in waves instead of linearity now. It felt like you were watching your own body instead of participating. Like you were lightheaded and drunk. Each moment kept hitting you without expectation. You were on your knees, rolling David over to face upward. You were shaking him and he was blinking up at you in confusion. You felt Scotty accidentally kick your arm when he lunged to hold the man who attacked David back. The bouncers were on you, yelling about you guys getting the fuck out of there if you’re gonna behave like that. You were outside sitting on the curb examining David’s face. You traced the bruise along his jawline and you both winced. He held the tissue from your purse to his face to catch the blood falling from his nose and mouth. Suddenly you were in the backseat of an Uber, unsure of how you’d gotten there. You didn’t realize you were crying until a tear rolled into your mouth. “It’s okay,” David said, his voice muffled by the tissue. “I’m honestly alright y/n.” You were coming to your senses now and you drew in a few sharp breaths, trying to calm down. You assessed the situation. Scott was in the front passenger seat of the car, an uneasy look on his face. Zane was seated directly behind him in the back, with you in the middle seat and David behind the driver. “Me?” you asked, realizing suddenly how embarrassed you were to be crying. You wiped your tears. “Baby your face is…” you trailed off. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. You didn’t want to rub it in. “You should see the other guy,” he joked. “Oh baby, he’s fine. Believe me,” Zane threw back. They shared a laugh. David pulled the tissue off his face and jammed it in his pocket. “Look bleedings gone anyway,” he shrugged. A bit of dried blood was plastered across his bruised cheek, but otherwise he was right. “My thumb hurts more than my face,” he whined. “You’re not supposed to tuck your thumbs in when you punch someone David,” Scott said from the front seat. He was starting to relax a little too after hearing the other two boys joking around. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your own thumb on top of being knocked on your ass.” Everyone laughed. You tried to smile too but your face just tightened into a grimace. “I’m really fine,” David said, but you weren’t convinced. The boys spent the rest of the ride with their vlog cameras on David, re-enacting the story. They embellished it with jokes, something about David versus Goliath, and gave the viewers a tour of the damage along David’s chin. You knew he was over the whole thing. He was hyped on the adrenaline and the fact that he was getting content. You couldn’t move on so quickly though. It wasn’t just the pain that you guessed was probably making his head throb. It was the potential assault charge thy could’ve happened. It was the DACA situation. It was the fear that the little punch could’ve turned into a much bigger problem if things were slightly different. The thought that you caused this just kept panging in your head over and over. When you finally got to David’s house you were in full nurse mode. You had him sitting on his bathroom counter, a bag of frozen veggies stuck to his cheek as you used a wet washcloth to gently wipe the blood from his lips. Zane and Scott were long gone and it was just the two of you. You finished cleaning him up, pulled the makeshift ice pack away from his face, and stepped back to look at him. “David,” you winced. “It’s so bad.” He twisted his torso around to look at himself in the mirror over the counter. “Nah, it’s not that bad. I think it looks kinda badass actually. Now people know not to fuck with me.” At that you sighed and dropped your head against his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let you feel guilty. It wasn’t his nature, but nonetheless you felt like you were crumbling. “Come on, look at me.” he said, putting a finger under your chin and lifting your head. “I’m alright. Deadass. I swear, okay?” You nodded feebly. “But fuck David. That could’ve been so much worse. You can’t just react like that cause some dickhead is messing with you.” “Not messing with me,” he shook his head. “Messing with you. No one gets to touch you but me.” He dropped his hands from your face and slide them around your ass, lifting you toward him a little. He knew you loved when he held your ass when you were making out or he was fucking you. He was trying his best to melt the tension in you. “It’s not worth it,” you tried to counter. “It is worth it. It’s the only thing that’s worth it. That motherfucker deserves to get his ass beat. I really wish I could’ve fucked him up but I tried my best.” He laughed half-heartedly. You tried to smile back him. Although the swelling in his lip was finally going down and his black t-shirt masked the blood that had spilled, you could still see the carnage fresh in your mind. You leaned forward and kissed him as softly as you could. Just a peck on the lips. An apology. But he was too indulgent for his own good as always and he leaned into it. His lips parted, kissing you deeper until he pulled back with a distraught look on his face. He shook it off quickly. “David,” you chastised. “I’m fine,” he shrugged off your concern and went to lean in again. You pulled away. You weren’t about to let him hurt himself again. You placed your hands on his knees and slowly snaked them up his thighs. You had suddenly thought of a better way to apologize. Your hand reached where his dick was resting inside his jeans and you glided your hand slowly back and forth over it. “Can I try and make you feel better? Please baby?” you whispered, looking directly in his eyes. He just whimpered and nodded. With painstaking slowness you reached for his belt buckle, undoing it and letting it clatter loudly on the bathroom floor. “Pants down,” you said sternly and he obliged you. He lifted his butt off the counter and shimmied his jeans to his ankles. You could see his dick stiffening in his boxers and you took one last glance up at him. He was so pretty, even when he was disheveled like this. His jaw was imbued with a deep purple, which was mixing with the darkness of his five o’clock shadow. His lip was split a little on one side. His hair was a mess. He smelled like sweat and blood. Even so, he radiated charm and smirked back at you as if inviting you to continue despite the mess. You placed kisses along his thighs, starting at his knee and working toward the hem of his underwear. You finally inserted your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled his dick free. You paced yourself with the process. You started by licking a circle around the head, letting a little spit drip from your mouth to wet the shaft. His whole body twitches under you at the sensation. His fingers gripped the edge of the counter, turning his knuckles white. “Don’t tease me baby,” he winced. You took him in your mouth slowly, letting a little laugh echo from your throat. The vibration around his cock made him lose his grip on the counter and lace his fingers in your hair. You let him catch his breath for a minute, taking his dick out of your mouth and looking up at him. He gulped and let go of your hair, returning his hands to the counter. “I like having your hands in my hair,” you reassured him. “I like feeling how badly you want it.” You maintained eye contact as you dipped down to the base of his cock and ran your flattened tongue from base to tip. Tired of teasing, you took all of him that you could fit into your mouth. Your hand worked the rest of the way in matched rhythm. His hands found your hair again and he helped guide you up and down as you sucked his dick. “Baby, right there. Please don’t fucking stop. Please baby. Please.” His words just made you moan along his cock. He bucked his hips upwards unintentionally. “Sorry! Shit that feels so fucking good. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.” He tried to stop himself from completely facefucking you, although you weren’t making it easy on him. You pulled his dick out of your mouth entirely, licked up the side once more before deepthroating him. You pulled up instantly, as it wasn’t your strong suit, earning a little gag and a trail of spit. He breathed out heavily, appreciating the effort, and throwing his head back against the mirror. “Fuck. You feel so good baby. Fuck. Fuck,” was all he could mumble. You used your own spit to jerk him off for a second before returning him to your mouth. You felt his fingernails dig into your scalp a little. “You’re gonna make me cum y/n.” He warned you. You sucked harder, letting him know where you wanted it to go. His cock twitched in your mouth as he understood your movements. “Fuck,” he was nearly yelling at this point. “I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” You milked the last few seconds for all they were worth until you felt his release fill your mouth. He shuddered through his orgasm and let out a loud moan. His breathing was fast and shallow as he leaned back against the mirror. You let him catch his breath while you kissed his dick once, mostly for your own benefit, and then kissed his thighs, knees, wrists, and fingers. Every surface you could see earned a kiss. “How was that?” you asked. “Amazing babygirl,” he panted. “Feel better.” “Oh definitely.”

#david dobrik imagine #david dobrik smut #david dobrik blurb #submission

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fatgirlwritesscenarios · 5 years

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Hot Chocolate Kisses

((Wooooaaahhh...when was the last time I was here, ya’ll? None of you better say last year because I know that! Haha. How is everyone doing?! I hope the start to your new year was a fresh one. I’m having good thoughts for myself this new year and some New Year’s resolutions that actually seem attainable! Anyway, I’ve been working on this little cutie off and on for awhile and finally finished it, so I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to everyone who still follows me and reads my stories even though it’s been forever since I’ve updated any of them!))

Pairing: MinghaoxChubby-Black!Reader

Genre: Cute and fluffy

Word Count: 3,372

Summary: You like the hot chocolate from a certain cafe and Minghao is all too eager to join you on your outing. Vernon wants to tag along, but Jeonghan is having none of that shit because he and Joshua have been waiting for a confession between their favorite couple of their favorite real-life romantic drama and he’ll be damned if Vernon ruins that for them.

“Ah, Y/N, are you going somewhere?”

“I’m being a brat today. I want hot chocolate, but only from a specific café that’s further in the city. I think it’s like a block away from that Chinese restaurant that Jun and Minghao took us all to. Does anyone want to come with?”

“I’ll go! I can drive us!”

Joshua caught a chuckle before it made itself known, watching with Jeonghan and Jihoon as their resident cool cutie magically appeared in the living room of the dorms the minute your name was spoken and quite eagerly volunteered to accompany you on your outing. The smile you gave him radiated warmly and Joshua could only guess a blush was heating your cheeks from the way you patted one with the back of your fingers after Minghao asked you to wait for him and then ran into his room to get ready.

“Does anyone else want to go?” you asked, turning your attention to the three hyungs of the Vocal Unit with an inviting smile, “Jeonghan? Josh? Woozi?”

Jeonghan answered for them, waving his hand with a grin and saying, “We’re okay, Y/N. You have all the company you need with our cool cutie. Go enjoy yourself.”

You patted your cheeks again and smiled bashfully for reasons you never voiced but everyone knew of regardless, for they were the same reasons that Minghao was always so quick to respond to your name or the sound of your voice: Minghao had a crush on you and you had a crush on him, too.

Minghao’s signs that he was rather fond of you started manifesting not long after you and your performance group came to South Korea for a collaboration you were doing with Seventeen, though one could argue it started even before that. Your group had arrived two months ago, but for a full month before that, both groups had been in contact via phone or video call. During that time, Minghao had mentioned- more than once- how nice your voice sounded and how much he liked the way you spoke, a rather ‘funny’ grin on his face as he casually said this with the barest hint of a blush.

Meeting you face to face only solidified that fondness, intensified it to something more until every member of Seventeen and your performance group noticed a shift taking place

Joshua was the first one to notice and had been a faithful viewer of this cute and sweet drama he- like the dork he is- dubbed “Baobei: The Minghao and Y/N Love Story”.

“Where are you going, Y/N?” Vernon meandered into the living area, his face aglow with the blue of his phone screen.

“Do you remember that café next to the Chinese restaurant we all went to that one time?” you responded.

“Oh yeah, I love that café! I want to go, too!”

“No, you don’t,” Jeonghan intervened quickly.

Jeonghan was a faithful viewer, too, and quite eager for the love to finally bloom and flourish.

Vernon’s brow furrowed, “What? Come on, hyung.”

“You still have to finish your lyrics with Mingyu, don’t you?”

“We’ve been working on them all afternoon!”

The three older members chuckled at Vernon’s whining, but Jeonghan wouldn’t budge, “And you’ll be working on them all night if you stop now. Get it done now and you won’t have to worry about it at 3 AM like last time.”

Vernon pouted exaggeratedly, pulling a laugh from you as you went to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder; “Sorry, Vernon. Do you want me to bring something back for you?” you offered, smiling when his face brightened.

“Can you?” he asked just as Minghao came back into the living room.

“Ready. Thank you for waiting,” he said, fixing a black mouth mask to his face before moving to grab his coat from the front closet along with his scarf.

“No problem,” you answered, smiling up at Minghao a notch brighter than before, “Just text me what you want, Vernon, and I’ll bring it back, okay?”

“Thanks, noona!”

You waved your goodbye to those that were present and turned towards the door when Minghao casually grabbed the lapel of your coat and pulled you back; “Zip up. Zip up. It’s especially cold right now,” he said, sliding the zipper into place for you.

“Oh. Thank you.” You didn’t meet his eye, but smiled nonetheless and patted your cheeks before zipping your coat up further, “Ready?”

Minghao nodded and followed you to the door, “See you guys later!”

“You two be careful. Behave yourselves,” Jeonghan called, rising from his armchair to go into the kitchen.

“We know, hyung. We have fans everywhere, so we’ll be careful not to draw attention to ourselves.”

“That’s not what I was referring to, but okay,” he said cheekily, disappearing into the kitchen while you and Minghao stood in the entrance way just before the door, puzzled.

Joshua snickered and waved them off, “Have fun!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nearly every radio station had Christmas music playing on loop, but you weren’t a fan of all the commercials. So Minghao handed over the AUX cord and let you plug your phone into your Spotify Christmas playlist. The car ride was relaxed and fun, you and Minghao giggling and dancing to the music as much as sitting and driving in a car would allow…but the atmosphere was…different.

Neither one of you spoke much and when you did, it wasn’t very loud like it normally would be. This was far from the first time you two had been alone together, numerous V-Lives and recorded performance rehearsals proof of that, so you weren’t uncomfortable around one another. And the atmosphere wasn’t ‘tense’. Just…different; like a simmer of change hanging in the air, corralling the both of you into a comfortably peaceful world that you didn’t want to disturb.

Minghao struggled to concentrate on driving, only wanting to stare at you as you sat beside him…because you seemed to be glowing. He could be disgustingly cheesy and say you were glowing like an angel, but…well, even if he did want to be that cheesy, it wouldn’t be accurate. You were glowing more like…Christmas. Lit up with a hundred bright colors was how you glowed, bringing warmth and wonder and magic into Minghao’s world.

You were already the prettiest person he had ever seen- brown skin like ground cocoa beans, the curliest hair that wrapped around any solid thing that played in it, and a round, chubby body perfect for hip-hugging jeans, body-con dresses and day-long cuddles. And you glowed…like Christmas. He wanted to stare at you all day.

“Speed bump!”

“Oh! Hang on!”

His arm shot out across your torso as he braced himself, Minghao unable to slow down fast enough or safe enough before the car was going over the speed bump roughly. He felt you lurch against his arm and bounce up, your head nearly hitting the roof.

“Whoo! Six Flags!” you joked with a laugh.

Minghao shook his head, his own laugh a little jilted and nervous, “Ah…Sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! I didn’t hit my head or anything,” you answered.

“Are you sure?” He moved his arm away from your chest and rested his hand over yours, his palm big enough to cover from your wrist to your knuckles.

You paused for only a moment, your heart stuttering at the heat of his hand, but not wanting to embarrass him or make him stop, you spread your fingers enough for his own to fit in the hollows and tightened your hold afterward. “Yeah, I’m sure,” you said, watching his reaction carefully and grinning when he first looked down at your joined hands and then up at you.

His smile was bashful and obvious, even through his mouth mask, focusing back on the road with renewed confidence.

*~*~*~*~*

The vintage sign of your favorite cafe shined like a welcoming beacon from its place on the corner of the semi-busy street, Minghao giggling at the cute happy dance you did as he pulled around back to park in the parking lot. You were out of the car before he even turned it off, the man forever amused and even saying as such as he stepped out to find you bouncing on your toes near the trunk, waiting for him.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just run inside without me,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

“Trust me, I took time to seriously consider it,” you replied, scrunching your nose up at him before looping your arm through his, “But…I don’t want to go too far away from you.”

Minghao felt himself go breathless, but a smile remained ever prominent on his face, and ever obvious in the shrinking in of his eyes, as the two of you made your way from the frigid outdoors into the comforting warmth of the cafe. The baristas greeted you, the afternoon appearing to be rather slow since there was no one else in line and only a few tables were occupied.

“Hi! Welcome! What can I get started for you?” the barista asked, friendly smile in place.

“A large hot chocolate and a strawberry muffin for me!” you ordered, glancing at your companion, “Order something.”

“Hmmm…” Minghao took a moment to consider his options, “I’ll get a large hot chocolate, too, and a blueberry scone.”

“Two large hot chocolates, one strawberry muffin and one blueberry scone. Will that be all?”

“That’s it!”

“For here or to go?”

You looked at Minghao, who shrugged at you, “I wouldn’t mind taking it here.”

“For here.”

“You’re total is $16.50!”

“Y/N, there’s something on your shoes,” Minghao pointed down at your boots.

“What? Where?” Distracted, you inspected your footwear with a curious furrow of your brow, your debit card held between your fingers.

Minghao took the opportunity to give the Barista his debit card, the girl giggling as she ran it and handed it back just as you looked back at him, extending your card out.

“There was nothing on my-”

“Here’s your receipt and a number! We’ll bring your order to your table!”

“…You snake.”

Minghao laughed at the unamused glare you gave him, pinching your cheek and cooing in the process, “When you’re with me, you don’t pay for anything.”

“Really? And why is that?” you asked, quirking a brow as a little smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

Minghao shrugged, “Because I said so.”

You were rendered speechless as the dancer took your hand in his and lead you over to a corner booth on the left side of the cafe, grateful for their choice in tinted windows that allowed for the patrons inside to enjoy the view, but kept them hidden from passersby on the outside. You slid into the booth first, closest to the window, and found your heart skipping a beat when Minghao slid in beside you. You both worked your arms out of your jackets, Minghao discarding his scarf and pushing up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. You sat entranced by this simple action, having always enjoyed staring at his hands, even when they were doing nothing more than adjusting his sleeves.

“How is your throat feeling?”

“…Huh?” It took you a second longer to catch up with what Minghao was asking, quite embarrassed to be caught staring at his fingers as closely as you were, “Oh! My throat. Better, actually. A lot better.”

“Good. I was worried,” he admitted, brushing a finger underneath your chin, “I told you not to push yourself so hard. You’re so stubborn.”

In the past week, you had been nursing a swollen throat that made singing a very difficult task and although you had promised not only your group mates, but Minghao as well that you would take it easy and relax it for a while, you decided to push your luck in recording a song that you were excited for when you weren’t even half-way healed. The song came out beautiful and rough, just like you imagined, but at a cost.

“I had to take advantage of how my voice sounded while it was sore. The song came out great!” you defended yourself, “Besides, I don’t want to hear anything from you about being stubborn Mr. ‘I’m Fine, I’m Fine! I Just Tweaked It!’.”

A month before you strained your throat, Minghao had twisted his ankle pretty badly. Instead of following everyone’s advice to let it rest, he insisted it wasn’t that big of a deal, that he just ‘tweaked’ it, and continued to push himself far beyond exhaustion learning new choreography. Not long after, he severely sprained that same ankle and had to be on bed rest for the following two and a half weeks.

Minghao glared dully at you as you simply stared back, your temple resting on your propped up fist. The staring continued for only a few seconds more when he- the sly, sneaky thing that he is- slipped an arm around your back and tickled your side. You squeaked and attempted to squirm away, but found yourself with nowhere to run as he locked you against his side and continued his assault, his giggling melding with yours.

“Here’s your order!” the Barista suddenly appeared and interrupted the torture you were under.

“Thank you! Thank you! Oh god, thank you!” you gasped for air, remnants of your giggling slipping through your lips.

The Barista nodded and snickered herself before she took the number that Minghao was given and then skipped away back to the counter. Once you gained your breath back, and had been reassured Minghao wouldn’t try to attack again, you picked up your drink, blew into it a few times, and took a gratifying slip. The chocolaty splendor coated your tongue and warmed you beautifully from the inside out. You hummed happily and took another sip, wiggling in your seat.

Your companion, his mouth mask tucked under his chin so he, too, could enjoy his drink, smiled at you and tapped the back of his finger against your cheek; “You’re so cute when you do that,” he mused, earning a confused hum from you, “You know, when you…”

He wiggled in his seat and you nearly choked on your muffin giggling. Minghao laughed at you, eyes shimmering and crinkled, and you were about to say something when you noticed the two baristas at the counter glancing over in your direction every few seconds or so, giddy smiles on their faces as they waited in possible anticipation. Your smile slowly fell, wondering if perhaps they recognized you and were on their way to recognizing Minghao, too.

If so, then you two would have to make a quick escape because it would only take one picture posted to social media before the cafe would be swarmed with Seventeen fans.

“What is it?”

“No, no, don’t look.” You grabbed hold of Minghao’s shoulder to keep him from turning around and averted your gaze from the counter to your table, “I think the baristas recognize us. They’re looking over here a lot.”

“Oh…” Minghao sighed and fixed his mouth mask back in place, “Maybe we should start heading back?”

“I wonder if I can order Vernon’s drink before we do,” you mused, glancing back at the counter…and pausing.

The two females had gathered together on the side closest to you and Minghao, waving you down with wide, excited smiles before pointing above you. Your brows furrowed as you glanced up…and then felt very grateful that a blush wasn’t easily noticeable on your face.

“Y/N?” Minghao followed your gaze only to find himself face to face with a mistletoe, “…Oh.”

“It’s tradition!” the baristas echoed from the counter, giggling girlishly now and waiting expectantly.

“It’s already the middle of January. I can’t believe they still have this up,” he mumbled, laughing half-heartedly in an attempt to lighten the tense atmosphere and hide the thundering of his own heart.

When his gaze settled on you again, you looked every bit as shy and nervous as he felt: quick, embarrassed glances into his eyes, your bottom lip caught between your teeth, a single curl wrapped ‘round and ‘round and ‘round your finger as you fidgeted. If Minghao weren’t caught up in this embarrassing situation with you, he would have been teasing you.

As it was, though…

“It may be tradition, but we don’t have to follow it, Y/N. It’s okay,” he assured you, his eyes narrowing with his reassuring smile beneath his mask.

You finally worked up the courage to meet his eye, holding his gaze for extended seconds that felt like minutes…hours…an eternity. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, only that you were coming to some final conclusion. He stiffened when your hand lifted up and your fingers, soft and gentle, curled into the top corner of his mouth mask. You pulled down carefully until it settled underneath his chin again, your fingers resting there, trembling.

Minghao didn’t know if he had taken a breath in the 60 seconds that had passed, but he felt lightheaded and his lungs were burning. His eyes never left yours, even though it became increasingly difficult to hold contact with how close you were drawing to him. Closer and closer until your breaths were mingling, until your nose bumped his…until your lips were slanting with his and colors were exploding behind his eyelids. He remembered to breathe at last, inhaling you and the chocolaty taste on your lips…and he never wanted to be anywhere else ever again.

The baristas might’ve squealed. They might’ve taken a million and one pictures, but literally nothing else held any importance except for you and this warm, chocolaty kiss. A smile curled your lips as you pulled back, your dark eyes glimmering and his own vision all fuzzy with adoration. He laughed breathlessly in the short space between your lips before his hand cupped your cheek and he was kissing you this time.

He was vaguely aware of a sharp squeal, but…he was sure it wasn’t important.

*~*~*~*

Stepping out of the cafe with Vernon’s drink held securely in your hands, you and Minghao bid your goodbyes to the baristas- ignoring their incessant giggling. Snow fell quietly around you, soft little flakes brushing your cheeks and landing in your hair. Minghao stood before you then, quiet and thoughtful, just staring at you like he’d been doing after the kiss you shared under the mistletoe. You gazed back, unabashed and only a little shy.

He chuckled quietly; “Just so we’re clear,” he started, unwinding his scarf from his neck, “That kiss meant more to me than some silly tradition.”

He draped the scarf around your neck, wrapping it around twice and melting when you snuggled into it, “I like you, Y/N. I have for a long time…I think I liked you before I Even met you, the minute I heard your voice over the phone.”

His cheeks were stained pink and you had a good feeling it was from more than the cold. A smile as sweet and bright as all the Christmas lights prettied your face, “I like you, too, Minghao. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but…I was too chicken.”

In his elation, the dancer lowered his mouth mask, grabbed the edges of the scarf wrapped around you, and tugged you close for another tender kiss.

“You’re mine to take care of now,” he said as he pulled back, taking your hand in his and leading you to the car, “So I’m going to be taking extra care to make sure you don’t strain your voice like that again.”

“And I’m going to glue your ass to a chair the next time you ‘tweak’ your ankle,” you shot back, giving him a little half-smirk that dissolved into laughter when he pinched your side, Minghao resisting the urge to press you against the car and kiss you silly.

There would be time for that later…plenty of time to make up for.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #the8 #the8 imagines #the8 scenarios #minghao #minghao imagines #minghao scenarios #chubby-black reader #chubby-black reader imagines #chubby-black reader scenarios

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tyrannysaurusfloof · 5 years

Text

Welcome to the Red Room

Summary: The only experience Dark has with Red Rooms is via video games, but he's about to get a taste of what the Red Room really is. Can Anti save him in time? Characters: Darkiplier, Antisepticeye Relationships: Danti Warnings: Red Room, Torture, Electric Torture, Ripping out nails, Eye Trauma, Beating, Broken Bones, Hurt/Comfort, Tooth Extraction

((Guys, this is extremely brutal! Like I mean, there’s a lot of brutal torture here! There is censored version on ao3 with the torture mostly removed but the story the same. You can also read the uncensored version on ao3! For a list of torture: Electric shock torture, nails being ripped out, eye mutilation, beating, broken bones, teeth being ripped out.))

Kidnapping had not been on Dark’s to-do list today, but then again, when did a day ever go as planned. The fact that it was him that had been kidnapped this time around did not make his mood any better, nor did the noxious drug being injected into his veins to control and stem the power of his aura. How these people had found out about him he didn’t know, and why they had taken him was unclear as well, as Dark had woken tied to a chair in an enclosed room with a camera pointing at him and a laptop set up in one corner. There was a countdown on the laptop screen, showing one hour and fifteen minutes.

Testing the strength of his bonds, Dark was disappointed to find they were strong, and he was not. Whatever was being slowly pumped into him from a needle injected into his hand had completely sapped his strength, and his aura was dead and gone for now, his shell completely settled and unable to break. It was an unsettling feeling and Dark continued to shift, hoping that whoever had done this to him had tied the bonds weakly and he would be able to get free of them. When that proved hopeless, he turned his attention to his surroundings.

The room was cold, and bathed in a strange, red glow. He was alone and there were no windows in the walls, just one door, bolted and chained but not an extremely sturdy thing. In the corner opposite to the laptop was a large wardrobe and Dark had a feeling that whatever was in there was not nice. Without windows he had no way of telling exactly where he was, but there was a feeling in his gut that he wasn’t too far out of LA, or even out of the city at all. It was quiet all around him, so the house was either empty, or there was no one around at the time, and despite how dimly lit the room was, Dark could tell this was a soundproofed chamber.

If he had to put his finger on what it was, he would have said torture chamber.

That thought sent a strange thrill through him. If the people who had kidnapped him were indeed torturers then…they really had no idea who they had kidnapped.

Watching the counter tick down was worse torture than anything else Dark expected his kidnappers to do to him, and when there was finally ten minutes left to go until the counter expired, the door opened and a man walked in. With a balaclava over his head he looked like the typical kidnapper and Dark had to supress a scoff. He didn’t have the upper hand here, not yet, and he needed to win the kidnapper over.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” The man said. His accent was American, not one Dark had ever heard before, and his tone was gruff. Muscular and commanding, his presence was impressive, but Dark was not intimidated. How could he be, when he was so much more than this man could ever be. “A lot of people are looking forward to this show.”

“I’m not in a performing mood.” Dark responded with a shrug, or as much a shrug he could manage in his bonds, “So maybe you should postpone it.

“Cute.” The man chuckled, “But not happening. I mean, I’ve already been paid good money just to bring you here, I’m not about to throw that away.”

Dark was insanely curious as to who this man really thought he was. The preparation for his aura was impressive, but then again, whatever drugs he was being injected with would probably have had a different effect on a human, making them sluggish and unable to fight back. It was entirely possible he believed he had kidnapped Mark since they shared a face, and that made Dark bristle with anger. Enduring torture in Mark’s name was not something he was really okay with.

Still, this situation would be tricky to get out of. The man did not seem like he could be easily persuaded, especially since money seemed to be the way to him and Dark had nothing to bargain with right now.

“You know what a red room is?” The man asked, a bored tone to his voice as he opened the wardrobe in the corner and brought out several shelves of tools.

Fear was an uncommon feeling in Dark, but at the name he felt his entire body still, eyes alighting on the mess of torture devices kept inside the wardrobe. Oh, he knew what a red room was. A livestream of torture and death, with the viewers deciding on what happened and paying in Bitcoin for the privilege. The requests could range from ridiculousness to the obscene, and as long as the viewer paid the price, the torturer would carry them out, and it would carry on until someone paid for the death, or the victim died from shock. Dark was entirely sure, but he didn’t think he could die from shock or blood loss.

Well, this was going to be fun.

“From the look on your face, I’ll take that as a yes.” The man smirked, the balaclava moving around his lips enough for Dark to picture the expression. “How lucky for me, I hate having to explain it. We’ll be going live soon, so you best be ready.”

“I already told you I’m not really in a performing mood.” Dark murmured, trying his best to remain casual as the man cracked his neck and checked the camera.

“You’re plucky I like that. You’ll be fun to break.”

“We’ll see.” Dark smirked this time and tilted his head to one side at a rather unnatural angle, red eyes boring into the man’s eyes. He wasn’t fazed by it at all, and Dark eventually moved to a more comfortable position as the counter reached zero.

The man took a place in front of the camera, blocking its feed of Dark as the recording went out live, threading through the dark web to whoever it was that had paid for Dark to be kidnapped. Shifting again, Dark bit at his lip, mind racing to try and find a way out of this situation. Without his aura it was a little more difficult.

“Welcome to the red room,” The man was saying to the camera, “I have a special guest requested anonymously, and here for your pleasure.” Stepping aside, he allowed the camera to focus on Dark, who stared at the lens with a bored expression on his face, carefully hiding the tumultuous feeling of panic from his lack of control beneath a schooled expression. “He’s got a good, sassy personality, so make sure you offer good suggestions to break him.”

The laptop pinged once, but it wasn’t a message for torture, but a request for more information about their guest. The man refused to answer the question and Dark rolled his eyes. Minutes passed without any requests coming through, and despite the situation the ego was becoming bored with the entire thing.

“Is anyone even watching this farce?” He called out as best he could, a little slurred in speech as the drugs continued to drip into him. The man turned to him, and Dark was sure he was in half a mind to start the torture without a request to get things going when the laptop pinged again.

“We have our first request of the night, dear viewers.” The man chuckled, “And it’s a good one. ‘Rig a nail up to rest directly in front of his eye so if he squirms or jerks it will blind him, and then take a metal pipe and beat his joints, from shoulders to elbows to wrists to hips to knees and finally the ankles. Please pay most attention to the feet and hands’. A good start off for our cocky guest.”

Dark raised an eyebrow, “Yes, such good taste.”

The man ignored him, fetching a nail from within the wardrobe and a stand for it to be attached to. Forcing Dark to hold his head straight, he fastened the nail to the arm of the chair and positioned it just in front of Dark’s left eye, brushing his hair back from his face for a better view. It was disorientating having a nail so close and yet knowing it wasn’t going to move, and Dark had to focus past it to get his vision right again. His shell tried to crack in anger, but it was a sad attempt and the man didn’t even notice, too busy selecting the right metal pipe for the job.

“The right thickness and length for our patron.” The man announced and tapped Dark gently on the shoulder.

Relaxing as best he could despite the situation, Dark kept his mouth shut when the first blow came, and his head perfectly still. That nail would do some damage if it did pierce his eye, and while he could keep silent during a beating, he doubted he would keep his screams in when a nail was driven into his eye. Ignoring the ache in his shoulders as the man moved onto his elbows, Dark braced himself for it perfectly, and despite feeling as if his bones were shattering under the blows, he made no sound, even when his wrists were broken by the harsh blows of the pipe, his bones cracking and buckling under the intense pressure. Gritting his teeth, the clench of his jaw was the only indication of his pain, and clearly the viewers weren’t happy about that, as the laptop was pinging with message after message. The man ignored them until he had finished with that first lot of torture, breaking Dark’s ankles in the meantime and dislocating one of his kneecaps. That had nearly brought a scream of pain forward but Dark swallowed it down. He was panting by the time it was over and his neck was hurting from having to stay straight to make sure the nail didn’t dig into his eye. Luckily, the man removed it when the beating was finished before returning to the laptop.

Dark’s thoughts turned to Anti as the man checked his new requests. The glitch would be at the Ego’s place now, waiting for Dark to appear and Dark wasn’t there. Knowing Anti, he’d get bored and find a way to entertain himself, and probably leave and try and find Dark another day. When he found out what had happened, he would be pissed, murderous even, but Dark really wished he could be there now to help him, to do something. Anger coursed through him and he threw himself backwards, tipping the chair over despite the drugs running through him and smashing the wood. The man turned in shock and rushed over to him, ready to subdue him, but Dark was ready. With the leg bent in the fall, one of Dark’s own legs had come free and despite the injuries, he lashed out and knocked the man to ground. Without being able to stand escape seemed impossible, but Dark forced himself up regardless, forcing his broken bones to take his weight even as they screamed in protest.

“What a feisty boy.” The man was laughing as he stood back up, with a needle in his hands. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Try me!” Dark spat.

“Bravado will get you nowhere.”

With a quick step forward, the man lashed out, catching Dark in the side of the head and causing the ego to stumble. His ankles were unable to sustain his weight and Dark collapse to the ground, gasping and shaking, hands trembling as he reached for his ankles automatically. Immediately the man was upon him, dragging his head up by the hair and plunging the needle into his neck. Dark went rigid.

“I don’t like using this, but for people like you I have to. Specialised drug, only available on the dark web, used for incapacitating victims but keeping them completely conscious and able to feel pain.” The man explained, grunting with the effort of getting Dark over to a spare chair and tying him down. And indeed, he was unable to move, his entire body stiff and uncooperating even as the man forced him into a sitting position, and Dark panicked. Calling on his aura did nothing, the drugs still being forced through his hand disabling it, and he couldn’t talk, couldn’t use his silver tongue to stop the man from doing this. “Now, back to the requests.”

The laptop had lit up during their short fight, and it took a good few minutes for the man to sort through the requests.

“Some good asks here,” He grinned again, the balaclava once again moving with his lips, “I’m going to take the nail request first, ruin those pretty eyes.”

Getting a good grip on Dark’s hair, the man tilted his head back so the camera had the best angle, before holding the nail right in front of his eye with one hand. There was only a split second for Dark to realise exactly what was about to happen before the nail was driven into his eye with a hard hit. Dark wasn’t entirely sure what was worse, the fact that he had seen the nail pierce him or the pain, but it drew a scream from him as blood burst from the wound and began to dribble down his cheek and into his shirt. Gasping, shaking sobs came with the following breaths Dark managed to breath in, and he tried to jerk his head away from the man when he went to remove the nail, but he was unable to even move.

The nail coming out hurt worse than going in.

Whatever was left of the mess of his eye, Dark could barely see from the left side now, and what he could see was just blood and mucus. His eye felt as if it were going to melt down the side of his cheek along with the blood flow, and his stomach was twisting violently, but his body was unable to even heave to be sick.

“Now the next request requires me to bring the camera a little closer.” The man spoke calmly as he wiped the blood from his hands and tossed the nail aside. He walked over to the camera and slowly wheeled it forward until it was focused on Dark’s hand. “I’ve had a request to rip out the nail of the thumb, middle finger and little finger, along with the big toe, middle toe and little toe, and then paint the other nails with the blood. Figured you would want a front row view.”

If Dark could have shook his head, he would have. Instead, the stricken look on his face was enough for the man, but he ignored it as he fetched his nail clamps. The camera was so close to his hand that if Dark flexed a little bit he could move it, knock it, but the man didn’t leave him alone long enough for anymore sabotage. Despite knowing Dark couldn’t move, he still took a good grip on Dark’s wrist – which in itself was incredibly painful because of the broken bones there – before attaching the clamps to his thumb. He was talking as he did it, explaining the best way to wrench the nail off and cause the most amount of pain but his words flew over Dark without much consequence.

The first nail coming off was like nothing he had ever felt before, but Dark somehow bit back the noise of pain bubbling in his throat. He was unsuccessful at doing that when the man pressed a finger into the now exposed skin under the nail. The room echoed with his cries, and the laptop began to ping again as more and more requests came through. Repeating the process with the requested nails on both hands and both feet, the man selected a paintbrush and turned Dark’s remaining nails crimson as well. Numbness spread from his hands, his body’s reaction to the extreme pain, but that was more uncomfortable than the pain and Dark desperately wanted to squirm, to collapse and hunch forward as he gasped for stable breaths through it all. Respite did not come for long, the man was upping the game, not leaving as much time now that requests were coming thick and fast.

Dark could barely keep up.

An electric shock collar came next, fastened around his neck and set to jolt him every twenty minutes. If the man was torturing him in another way during that time and the jerk it sent through Dark’s body injured him further, that was a bonus for the viewers. Extraction of his molars soon followed, from both top and bottom jaw, just the first set, the smaller set, right behind the canines. Dark tried to bite the man’s hand, but his body wasn’t responding properly, too busy attempting to heal the wounds all over him.

Tasting blood as the first molar ripped from his gum, Dark didn’t hold back the scream this time. The ache in his jaw spread through his entire head, and the resulting headache was only made worse by the pulsating pain spreading from his ruined eye. Four molars were removed one after the other with barely a break in between, and no surgical precision. The last tooth splintered as it came out, so the man forced Dark’s mouth open wide and took a hammer to the remaining part of the tooth. The room was nothing but echoing screams at that.

“Oh, I wish this had come before I extracted your teeth,” The man laughed as he looked over the requests, “A pound of flesh for our lucky guest, cut from his own body. Might be difficult for you to eat now.”

“Fuck…you!” Dark spat, blood dripping down his chin. Whatever drug the man had used to paralyse him was slowly wearing off, and he sat now with his head forward, shoulders shaking as he panted for breaths, entire body broken and bruised or bleeding in some way. The electric shocks from the collar made all the muscles of his back and neck ache and spasm even when the shocks were not there, and Dark could barely keep his good eye open through the pain.

He thought he heard the sound of static as the man laughed again and spoke to the camera, showing the knife he would be using to cut Dark open.

When it happened a second time, Dark forced himself to look up, blurrily focusing on the laptop screen.

The feed of requests, live and going fast, was glitching badly, so much so it had drawn the man’s attention from the camera. Tapping at some keys on the device, he cursed and apologised to the camera. In the split second he looked away from the laptop, the screen went black and a shadowy face appeared on it.

Anti.

Dark would have known that figure anywhere.

Giggles filled the room, and the man glanced around slowly. He wasn’t scared, more cautious than anything, and when he glanced at Dark, there was a calculation in his eye, his brain trying to piece together what was happening.

“It seems a clever hacker has gotten into the system.” He finally said as the giggles got louder and louder, accompanied by the sound of static. “Such a shame the show may have to end soon while I sort this out.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll end it for you!”

Anti’s voice was grating, static filled and high pitched and burst out of the laptop speakers, soon followed by the ego himself. Head tilted to the side, body glitching wildly as he spun a knife between his fingers and surveyed the man with eyes dyed completely black, Anti struck a terrifying figure, imposing and threatening and the man took several steps back in shock. Luckily for him, Anti was more interested in Dark, but he never took his eyes off the man as he moved over to the broken ego.

“Dark…what have you let them do?” Anti whispered. There was malice in his tone, but a joking, teasing edge as well.

“I was curious…about having…a septic eye.” Dark gasped in response, each word agony.

A shadowy look passed over Anti’s face and he turned very slowly to the man standing by the camera, completely frozen with fear, staring at the ego that had just appeared out of his laptop.

“Did you have any idea who you were kidnapping?” Anti asked, voice barely discernible through the static in his tone, anger seeping from him in barely contained movements and glitches, stalking closer to the man in less than normal steps. The man was trying to track his movements to no avail, and when Anti appeared right in front of him, he screamed and jumped backwards. Anti’s knife followed and lodged itself in the man’s side, nowhere particularly vital but enough to hurt.

“He was a request!” The man cried, falling to his knees and holding his side, “Someone asked for him.”

“You don’t even know who he really is.” Anti spat, kicking the man down further to the ground and stomping on the handle of the knife, driving it further into his guts, further towards something that could cause serious damage. “And you didn’t know who’d you be fucking with. This guy, he’s mine.” The word was said with such malice that even Dark shivered, barely conscious as he watched Anti stamp again and again on the knife, drawing scream after scream from the torturer. “How about we continue the show, with you?” The glitched posed the question gleefully. With a snap of static, he was suddenly next to Dark, undoing his bonds and casting him from the chair. It was only then that he realised Dark couldn’t support his own weight due to the broken ankles, as the grey-skinned ego collapsed heavily to the floor and cried out in further pain, blood splattering his already soaked shirt.

Dragging the man over to the chair, Anti left his knife in his side and strapped him down while the man begged for his life. As he listened to Anti reading out the requests that had been through, Dark felt his aura slowly coming back, no longer supressed by the drugs as the line had been ripped out when Anti had thrown him from the chair. The pain sent his shell into spasms and keeping a solid form was incredibly difficult as he twitched and trembled on the floor. Anti was laughing somewhere above him, the man was screaming and begging and there were the occasional sounds of tools being used, Dark couldn’t keep up with it all.

“Did you think you’d get away with it!” Anti yelled, bringing a rather rusty nail up and spinning it around his fingers as the man watched him with wide eyes. Without warning, the nail was sent straight into the man’s eye, further than it had into Dark’s and at an angle. Anti didn’t rip the nail out either but spun it around while still in the man’s eye, relishing in the screams it elicited. Every single type of torture he had brought onto Dark was repeated on him tenfold, with Anti not forgetting to bend down and rip the electric-shock collar from Dark’s neck so he could fasten it to the man and turn it all the way up.

With the camera recording it all and livestreaming it, Anti turned and grinned, drawing a fingers across his throat.

“Dark is mine.” He whispered, before the knife appeared in his hands and he buried it to the hilt into the man’s neck, nearly severing his head from his body at the force of the blow. The camera came next, smashed to the floor so the recording would stop, before Anti finally turned his attention to Dark.

He was barely conscious when Anti approached him and ran gentle hands through his hair.

“I’m going to get you home, Dark.” He whispered, pulling the ego against him and supporting his head. He was a sickening sight, more blood red than grey and his eye was a mess of puss and blood, completely destroyed and Anti had a sinking feeling in his stomach that that was never going to heal.

Carrying Dark effortlessly despite his dead weight, Anti glitched back into the computer with Dark in his arms.

–

The pain was nulled when Dark woke again, and his left eye held no vision whatsoever, but it soon became apparent that was due to thick bandages and gauze than the damage that had been done with the nails. His arms and legs were wrapped in splints to help heal the bones, his neck was bandaged and his hands and feet were bandaged too. Poking around his mouth with his tongue, Dark found the gaps in his teeth had been filled with well made prosthetics, his gums and jawbones healed and the teeth were screwed into place.

“Don’t move.”

Anti appeared in his field of vision, sitting casually beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other and hands twiddling together. Dark had no doubts he had been sitting there the entire time he had been worked on by Dr Iplier and Dr Schneeplestein, and despite his neutral expression, Dark could tell Anti was actually extremely relieved that he was awake.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.” Anti continued, moving to stand.

Dark reached out for him, catching his hand, and Anti turned back to him.

“Thank…you.” Dark whispered. It hurt like crazy to talk, his entire body resisting the idea of moving at all, but he forced the words out and the smile that cracked Anti’s lips was worth it.

“You know I’d always come for you.” He murmured, “Just like you would for me. What happened? Do you feel up to telling me?”

“I don’t really…remember.” Dark gasped out, “It…it’s a bit of a blur.”

“Schneep said you were drugged five ways from hell. If you’d been a normal human, you’d be dead.” Anti nodded, “Not surprised you didn’t escape, your aura wouldn’t have known whether it was coming or going. Are you…feeling better?”

At the mention, Dark’s aura reared up, settling around him almost like a blanket healing his wounds at a faster rate, and Dark sighed in relief.

“Much.” He nodded, regretting the movement immediately.

“Just rest, I’ll get the doc.” Anti ordered, pulling his hand free and walking from the room.

As Dr Iplier ran tests on Dark while Dr Schneeplestein checked his wounds, the ego thought back on what had happened. If Anti hadn’t come for him when he had, would he have truly been able to survive the red room? He had no doubt that any footage saved of the torture had already been destroyed by Anti himself, so all evidence was completely gone, and the man himself was dead and gone. Dark was a little put out by that, he would have liked a go at him when he was healed, but there was no stopping Anti when he got into a rage like that.

The doctors were talking over next steps and how they pictured Dark’s healing process going, but the words washed over him and didn’t go in. Dark was too busy thinking back, picking apart every moment to see if there was ever a time where he could have fought back, taken control and escaped before this happened. Dr Iplier seemed to notice first that he wasn’t paying attention, so he pulled Schneeple from the room and informed Dark he needed to rest.

Sleep came easily for his exhausted body, but so did nightmares.

Waking up screaming did nothing to ease the pain. Anti was there every time it happened, silent and strong and a constant rock to remind Dark that he was safe now, and Dark would kick himself for being so weak, for letting this affect him.

It took weeks, but he was finally strong enough to get out of bed thanks to a combination of the two doctors and his aura. Anti had excitedly told him it had started snowing a few days ago, but the glitch had resisted going outside to play without Dark, and now he could move, the first thing he really wanted to do was go outside and let Anti mess in the snow. Anti brought him thick winter clothes, and an eyepatch that Wilford had apparently made for him. It had a ridiculous pink moustache attached to it and Dark refused to wear it, selecting the surgical patch instead.

Despite all best efforts, his eye was not the same, His vision was blurred, almost none-existent and the wound had not healed well, becoming infected because of the nail’s metal. Still, out of everything, sacrificing vision temporarily in one eye didn’t seem too bad, Dark bargained. His aura would fix him eventually, it always did, but it would take some time.

Dressed in full winter gear and moving stiffly, Dark looped his arm through Anti’s to get as much support as he dared to show and moved outdoors. The entire back garden was nothing but a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow, and Dark was surprised to find it was early morning when they headed out. Grinning, Anti kicked the snow around them, but he didn’t run off into the white powder but walked carefully through it with Dark, leaving deep impressions behind them. It was only when Dark took a seat at the end of the garden, protected slightly by the large tree growing there that the glitch decided to play around, making snow angels and then drawing slits onto their necks so they matched him. Dark watched him with a small smile, feeling on a slight twinge of pain.

“So, what are the chances you let me live this down?” He asked when Anti finally joined him, pink-cheeked and panting in the cold air, cupping his hands together to warm his numb fingers.

“None-existent.” Anti laughed, “I mean, you got kidnapped and tortured and I’ll help support you and make sure you heal properly and hold you through nightmares, but it’s still pretty funny. Makes it really clear you’re not this all powerful, manipulative person.”

Glaring, Dark went to turn away, arms folded, but Anti caught him under the chin with his chill fingers and made their eyes meet. There was a serious expression on his face, and Dark bit his tongue, letting the glitch continue.

“Doesn’t mean I love you any less.” He whispered, “Everyone has bad days.”

“Some bad day.” Dark muttered, “More like a bad few weeks.”

“Yeah and a normal person wouldn’t have walked away in as good a shape as you did.” Anti pointed out, “Pretty sure some of your ego brothers wouldn’t have even walked away from that kind of torture. Dark…I’m gonna tease you about it because I can, but if anyone else even so thinks as calling you weak-.”

“You’ll rip them apart, I know.” Dark smiled, leaning forward and nuzzling into Anti, “That’s why I love you. So over-protective.”

“Look at you, I gotta be.” Anti teased, tilting his head to kiss Dark properly. It began snowing around them as they kissed, only breaking apart and agreeing to go back inside when Dark’s shivering became so bad he couldn’t keep his lips on Anti’s any longer.

Anti made them a nest by the window where they could watch the snow, and the other egos messing about while comfortably drinking hot chocolate and avoiding the nip of frostbite at their fingers and toes.

#darkiplier #antisepticeye #danti #tw torture #tw mutilation #please read the warnings #repost #so queue me

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christophe-delorne · 5 years

Text

Good Dog

Chapter 2

Pairings: Gregory x Christophe

Warnings: Dark themes, abuse, sex mention, violence.

AU: Adulthood

The car ride was otherwise uneventful once Christophe conceded to Gregory’s demands, not wanting to get into a fight first thing back with no sleep. The sound of classical music was relaxing, but Christophe could only relax so much when he was in a moving vehicle. He would never admit it, but traveling also made him feel ill with anxiety. He couldn’t control his fate and he hated relying on a machine to get him from point A to point B. However, there was no way around it as he would like to arrive at his designation on time rather than procrastinating just because he felt a little sick. So the Frenchman suck it up and let Gregory take the wheel, not that he had much of a choice when it came to the Brit. Thankfully, Gregory had put on soothing music instead of something that might rack his nerves any further, only because the blond preferred classical over anything modern.

Gregory lived in a high class apartment for various reasons, he could flaunt his family money by owning some extravagant house but no. Yard work wasn’t Gregory’s thing, nor was maintaining a property and he would rather not deal with staff that could possibly be incompetent or get in his way. An apartment was close to all the local shops and hang outs, he could leave any time and wasn’t anchored down to one place. Christophe shared that sentiment at least. While on the exterior one would think the two were so vastly different, but in truth they were more alike than one would first assume. The only difference was, Christophe didn’t hide his true nature like Gregory did.

Now Christophe stood behind Gregory as the man slid his keycard into the slot and opened the door to let them inside. A blur of motion caught in Christophe’s peripheral’s, making him reach to his back and grab the grip of his pistol tucked away in the back of his pants. Good thing Gregory’s body was still in the way of the door as he laughed pleasantly and wrapped his arms around the figure. A woman. The long black hair was glossy and well taken care of, apparently this was Gregory’s current girlfriend, which was frustrating. Christophe had hoped to get a bit of stress relief in after such a harsh mission but so much for that idea. He didn’t even hear the greetings and back and forth between the two as he shouldered past so he could get in the apartment. He hated standing in open public places and didn’t want to be left in the hall with no cover just so Gregory could play pretend with his latest girl.

Jealous? A little, it was more of frustration and disappointment but that was just something the Frenchman was used to from an early age. The girl let out a surprised sound and pulled away from Gregory. This was a girl Christophe hadn’t seen before, so she probably thought he was a stranger barging in so rudely. Really, Christophe just wanted to get through his forced routine and pass out on the couch. He knew Gregory would force him to shower and change into some clean clothes before he was allowed to relax in the apartment.Before he could ditch the two though, Gregory grabbed his arm, just firm enough for a warning, causing Christophe’s lip to curl in a silent snarl of distaste.

“Porsche, dear, I’d like you to meet my friend, Christophe. He just returned from a business trip and I invited him over to spend the night.” Once introduced, Porsche relaxed and held out hand in offering for a shake. However, Christophe looked down at it then back up to her pretty face, the glare must have been obvious enough. Her award winning smile faltered a little and her hand dropped. Smoothly, Gregory recovered as usual, used to Christophe less than stellar attitude. “He’s just tired, love, I’ll let him take care of his needs and we can start dinner, shall we?” The woman nodded as Gregory placed a hand on her back to guide her to the kitchen, leaving Christophe on his own. He was grateful as he didn’t want to entertain anyone, he didn’t trust this stranger but there was nothing he could do about it. So he crouched down to remove his muddy boots so he wouldn’t track mud throughout the apartment. The last time he’d done that he ended up having to scrub the floor with a toothbrush.

Why did he put up with such abuse? It was all he really knew and not only that, but Gregory was really the only one he could trust. There was no way he could live a solitary life and really, he kind of liked having Gregory in control sometimes. It made his paranoid mind ease a bit from the stability Gregory provided, there was always order with the Brit.Once he pried his dirtied boots off, he carried them into the small coat closet to set the on the bit of plastic that was always there just for him. It seemed Gregory always accommodated for Christophe’s presence more than he did with his girlfriends. It was a reassuring thought, but it didn’t ease Christophe’s anger any as he could hear Porsche and Gregory laughing in the kitchen. To the outside viewer, they were a charming couple, perfection, not a speck of dirt to ruin their relationship. Except Christophe, the Frenchman was so opposite to what Gregory enjoyed that it was almost amusing to think that Christophe was the only one the Brit really trusted.

Not able to stomach the light and normal conversation going on in the kitchen, Christophe made his way into the master bedroom so he could use the on suite bathroom. He peeled out his crusty and filthy clothes, tossing them into the dark green hamper meant just for him. Gregory didn’t even like his dirty clothes to mix with the Frenchmen’s. Christophe couldn’t blame him, this would be the first shower he had in over a week. Ever since he ditched his mother, he had no one to tell him what to do, so basic needs deteriorated. He just didn’t like being completely vulnerable in the shower, knot even the hunting knife he placed on the shower rack could comfort him. For a long time, he just stood in the walk in shower, it was like a personal sauna with the steam rising and covering the glass door. He could recall all the time Gregory joined him in her. It reminded him that he was alive and wanted. Now he was left on his own, shoved aside for some girl.

Dark forest green eyes stared at one of the cracks in the stone tile, how many times had he punched that spot in frustration? He wanted to do it again but after breaking his knuckles for the third time, he’d learned his lesson. Once the water was no longer clouded with dirt from his body, Christophe went to work in scrubbing his hair to get any excess dirt out that he could. He needed another hair cut, Gregory always did it for him since Christophe didn’t trust anyone else with a sharp pair of scissors around him. Though, right now he seemed preoccupied with Porsche so he’d have to ask later. At the moment, Christophe focused on trying to ignore the high priced shampoo that Gregory had and the fact that there was more feminine hair and body care products in the shower. It was like this girl had already moved in, causing annoyance to prickle over his skin. Though, what did his opinion matter, he was just a poorly trained dog after all, barely above being a stray.

It didn’t take long for him to finish scrubbing his body until his skin was an angry red color, barely seen over his olive skin. He exited the shower to dry himself off with a dark green towel, everything that was designated for him was dark green and he was rarely allowed to use anything that wasn’t assigned to him. Gregory said he liked the color because it matched Christophe’s eyes, probably the most innocent compliment the man had ever given him. It stuck with the Frenchmen despite how much it annoyed him, made him feel like he was softening over a few stupid words that had been given so casually and likely meant nothing further than face value. As he was brushing his teeth, he heard the door open, glancing over sharply in the mirror to see Gregory. He must’ve managed to slip away but likely only for a moment or two. Christophe swore around his toothpaste at the way his heart picked up a little, betraying him and his sensibilities.

“I just wanted to check in on you to make sure you’re getting cleaned up.” The perfectly tilted voice broke the silence. Christophe spat out the toothpaste and cupped the water from the faucet to clean out his mouth, purposefully ignoring Gregory. “I don’t need to remind you to be on your best behavior around Porsche, do I?” Gregory tested and Christophe shot an angry glare at him, appearing darker from beneath his thick brows and the dark circles beneath his eyes from lack of sleep.

“She can go fuck herself.” He growled out before drying his face with a hand towel, gaining a glower from his handler. “I’m not being paid to be nice, unless you want to give me a reward for being good.” Christophe hinted with irritation, already knowing the answer.

“I will not cheat on her if that’s what you’re implying, you know the rules, dog.” Gregory sounded pleasant, but Christophe could hear the edge in his tone, a warning. However, Christophe didn’t heed it.

“Then we’re done here.” Christophe shoved past Gregory so he could enter the bedroom and the dresser. The bottom drawer to the right was where all his spare clean clothes were kept. He knew Gregory wouldn’t do anything to him, not while there was a chance Porsche might interrupt, so Christophe was going to take full advantage of Gregory being the one who was leashed for once. “Go play pretend house with Barbie and leave me be, connard.” When he straightened to pull his boxers on, he could feel Gregory behind him, those arms caging him as Gregory’s hands planted firmly on the top of the dresser. Christopher’s body tensed with anticipation, he could feel the Brit’s warmth against his bare back, still slightly damp from his shower. Closing his eyes, he could imagine Gregory leaning in to drag his tongue over his cleaned skin. To feel those hips pin him against the edge of the dresser so Gregory’s bare hands could roam and trace over the brutal scars that ruined his olive skin.

He craved it badly, but the touch never came. Leaving Christophe wanting, trembling with anger.

Gregory leaned in to whisper, his warm breath scenting of fresh mint brushing over the rim of his ear. “Watch you language, dog. I have a great memory and I will punish you in due time.” He murmured softly, his voice low and deep, tempting Christophe to his very core. The Frenchman ground his teeth, his jaw clenched to the point he feared he’d crack a tooth. His anger was only fueled by the disappointment of feeling Gregory release him, pulling away to make his was out of the bedroom once more. Christophe slammed his fist into the top of the dresser, frustrated with himself for letting himself fall to such a bait, to let Gregory get under his skin like that.

One day, Gregory was going to regret torturing him like this when the dog decided to bite the hand that feeds him.

#south park #fanfic #christophe #gregory #writing #rp #alternate universe #au #good dog #fanfiction #dark themes #the mole #ze mole #mole #gregory of yardale

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