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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Woof woof yall.

You’re out in the woods one day, taking photos and going for a little hike. Stupid mental health walk or something; whatever, it’s a nice day and you’ve gotten some good shots. You’re just about to turn back when a huge brown and black wolf lopes out from a nearby thicket.

There aren’t any wolves in England though! Hunted to extinction - it’s why you feel safe bebopping around the forest alone in the daylight. So you see this big fuck-off sized “dog” and coo at the pretty puppy.

“Hello handsome boy, aren’t you just gorgeous! Will you come say hi?”

You do all the right things that you’re supposed to do with an unfamiliar dog but he just barges right through. Trots up to you, nose shoved into your crotch. You startle, bark a laugh, shove at his big stupid head.

“A little forward,” you tease, scratching under his chin, “but it’s better than biting.”

You feel all around his neck for a collar, but no luck. He must be someone’s though, huge blue eyes too intelligent and focused on your words. And his coat is so well maintained, glossy and shedded.

“Do you know how to… sit?”

An adorable head tilt, and the big dog settles onto his hind quarters.

“What a good boy!” you croon. “So smart!”

He licks at your palm and wrist as you scratch at him, huge tail thumping. A canine grin, tongue lolling out as he waits for your next command.

You hum.

“Well, guess we can check if you’re microchipped, huh? Or at least I can get you some water. See if someone recognizes you…”

You make a kissy noise at him. “Let’s go, big boy. Come.”

And to your delight, he falls into step with you. He weaves along the path ahead and behind, but always loops back to you, brushing against your thigh as if to reassure you he’s still there.

You hum as you walk, giggling when you see his ears twitch and swivel towards you. Tease that he should do better if he doesn’t like your version of Jolene.

You only cross paths with two other people on the walk, a pair of guys clearly out for a more serious hike. The dog plants himself between you and them, ears pinning back and a low growl erupting from his chest. You startle a bit, carefully burying your fingers around his scruff in case you need to grab him quickly.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t belong to either of you, then?” you ask.

One of the guys shakes his head. The other gives you an odd look. “He’s not yours?”

The dog barks, loud and rough. You shush him, explain the situation to the hikers. But the dog never stops rumbling and they quickly go on their way, keeping a wide berth.

You huff. “Don’t like men, huh?”

Poor thing. Maybe he was abandoned by a mean owner?

“S’alright, bud, I’ll be good to you.”

He follows you all the way back to your home. And when you open the door, shoulders right past you.

“Ah, shit,” you groan. “You weren’t supposed to come in!”

He gives you an almost betrayed look. You try not to huff in amusement.

“So help me, if you bring nasty things in this house I will shave you. Shave you. You’ll look so silly. Like an overgrown raw turkey.”

The dog turns, trots back to you. You didn’t realize just how big he is until he’s got his big paws on your shoulders. You blink, have to take a step back to brace against the weight of him. In his hind legs he’s taller than you. Really could pass for a pure bred wolf.

A big, rough tongue licks from your jaw to your forehead. You scrunch up your face but end up laying a kiss on his muzzle in return.

“Alright, you big nasty. Down you get.”

You shut and lock the door behind you, brushing leaves and dirt off.

“Okay, shower first,” you say aloud, already tugging off your clothes. “Then we’ll run into town, see if we can track down your family.”

You don’t mind the dog staring, unblinking, as you strip down right there, balling things up to avoid tracking a mess through the house. Nor do you mind him following you to the bathroom, though you do push at his snout when he licks the back of your knee. Just normal dog things, really. They don’t get people stuff like clothes or boundaries.

“Stay out of trouble, bud. I’ll be right out.”

As you wash up, you consider the merits of adopting. Only if you can’t find the dog’s actual family, that is. It’s lonely in your little house sometimes - and a bit spooky at night. A big, protective dog might be just the thing.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic

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ceruleancattail · 24 days

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Summoning your familiar: Heartsabyul edition

Ace Trappola

You’re immediately engulfed in the scent of incense, a cloyingly sweet smell. A finger taps on both your shoulders playfully, coaxing your attention to your sides.

You turn left and right in turn, to see nothing but thin air. Before a laugh echoes out, and a finger pokes at your nose mischievously. Ace Trappola the kitsune himself, a crooked grin dancing on his lips. His ears twitch, the fur on them rippling with his every move. His tails are left loose behind him, swaying around with the beat of his pulse.

“Master, summoning me again so soon? Did ya miss me that much? You silly little sap- Aw, don’t be mad. I missed ya too. Ahem, anyways-

Whatcha need me for?”

Deuce Spade

A sharp boom resounds across the room. A cloud of smoke poofs up in front of you, as a pair of clawed feet hastily tries to find purchase on the ground. Deuce Spade appears before you, skidding to a halt.

Well, not before he crashes into you, fluffy tails cradling both of you as you two fall. Cushion you with a layer of fluff and fur. Deuce’s all in a fluster, pink tinting his cheeks. As fast as he can, he clambers off you,worry apparent in his gaze. Once you reassure him that you’re ok, his shoulders are slumping out of relief, a sheepish smile stretched across his lips.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m not too used to being summoned by… anyone. I’ve forgotten how nice it is to be called by name…. To be called by you…

Urm! Enough with the sappy stuff! Deuce Spade, reporting for duty. Your command, Master?”

Cater Diamond

The moment his name leaves your lips, you see ghastly balls of white fire slowly ascend from the ground. They swirl around you, the warmth of the flames bleeding into your very soul.

Until you feel a weight press into your back, a pair of arms wrap themselves around your torso. Glancing back, you’re greeted with a pair of Emerald eyes, the ghost of a smirk dancing across his lips. Cater Diamond, your familiar. His chest rests on the curve of your shoulder as he smiles, half lidded eyes never once leaving your face.

“Cater Diamond. Kitsune!

Currently bound in service to this cutie in my arms. Man, I wish I could hug ya forever, but since you’ve summoned me… we have things to do, yeah?

Direct me then, Master~”

Trey Clover

The smell of crushed clovers engulf your nostrils. A sweet, gentle earthy fragrance that caressed you softly. Tenderly, like the soft touch of a lover. A tail slowly snakes around your thigh, fur as soft as velvet on your skin.

A breath is blown into your ear, followed by a husky laugh, as rich as fine wine. You turn to face Trey, his head tilted ever slightly to the side. Eyes sparkling with amusement behind those glasses of his. Carefully, he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, a soft smile flickering across his lips.

“Trey Clover, kitsune.

At your service, always, my dear Master. Hm, have you eaten already? I’ve baked a few choice pastries back at home… it’s a pity I wasn’t able to pack them for you before you summoned me.

Well then, I’ll do my best to finish this up quickly for your sake then.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Wisps of flame burst into life right before your eyes, twisting and turning into flaming mirages of roses, crackling with pure heat. Nine tails of crimson fur settle onto the ground, trailing after him like a grand cloak of scarlet red.

A pair of rose red fox ears stand straight at attention, as Riddle Rosehearts casts an impressive silhouette before you. Before he turns around, and you can see the soft, gentle affection in his gaze. Taking a step forward, he drops to a knee, hand stretched forth, seeking the warmth of your very own. A old gentlemanly sort of gesture that looked odd on an all-powerful kitsune, but Riddle still insists on it, every time he’s summoned.

“Riddle Rosehearts, kitsune of the Heartsabyul clan. I have come in answer of your call, my Master.

Hm? I’m always so quick to appear? Well, it’s you calling, after all. It’s a duty, as a mystical creature contracted to a human.

After all, mortal lifespans tend to be a little insufficient… so to be punctual to your every whim is simply just my duty. Besides, it’s not like I mind terribly, hearing my name fall from your lips...”

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thisthatpinkvenom · 10 months

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IT'S SWEATPANTS SEASON, OH MY!

JOCK!SAN / BAND GEEK!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: Autumn has arrived; the season of pumpkin spice lattes, corn and—unfortunately for you—grey sweatpants. those pesky little things have attached themselves to your boyfriend's legs like glue, and you're having a hard time keeping your mind out of the gutter.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, fluff, humor(??), smut, smut, smut

⤏ Content: jock!San, band geek!fem reader (I know, I'm so original), you're referred to as "sweet potato" once—don't ask, just go with it, established relationship!au, college!au, non-idol!au

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): dry humping, unprotected piv (it's fiction, guysss. use your rubbers and stay safe!), creampie, just lots of build up because I'm down bad for a man in grey sweatpants 🙈

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

The mosaic of orange and yellow was striking below the dull blue clouds as the trees continued to shed their leaves. Your eyes swayed with the leaf you'd been watching descend its way patiently to the ground while you sat on the bench, shoulders jittering in the midst of the decreasing temperature. Your hands peeked out from the ends of your sleeves before rubbing together, the crisp morning air making your fingers tingle in the cold. You should've worn a thicker jacket, is what you mulled over in your head that you hadn't even noticed San until he enveloped his own padded jacket over you. The gust of warmth awoke you from your reverie and you hummed, meeting eyes with him when he lowered himself into a squat.

"You didn't have to come here," he said, a dimple indenting his cheek as he curled one corner of his mouth upward. After pulling the hood over your head, he tenderly brushed his thumb across your cheek. "I know you're not a morning person."

You struggled to fight a yawn until you decidedly gave in, white fog manifesting in your breath.

"I want to support you," you murmured. You were too busy blinking away your fatigue to notice how he looked on in nothing but fondness. Your conscience warped your thoughts when you scanned over the jacket engulfing your frame, your lips forming into a small pout. "Mm…aren't you going to be cold?"

San took a glance at his attire; he's only got a windbreaker left to keep him warm. Nonetheless, he shook his head and insisted he was used to practicing like this on the field. Despite wearing less than you and the flushed red on his nose and cheeks, you couldn't really tell if he felt the effect of the weather as much as you did. You couldn't fathom how he had the motivation to get up at the ass crack of dawn to run around with a ball, doing drills with his teammates while Coach Kim rapid-fired pointer after pointer without a stop to catch his breath. It truly was admirable how smiley he was at 7:00 a.m. without consuming any caffeine.

Coach Kim sauntered along the grass before he blew his whistle and commanded the team to group together. Your boyfriend looked over his shoulder before turning back to you, eyes squinting as the sun's orange glow began to blanket over the field.

"Well, gotta start soon," he observed. "Stay warm and if you're sleepy, just go back. I'm happy you're here but don't force yourself to stay. All right, Sweet Potato?"

You made a small noise of confirmation, unfazed by the odd affectionate nickname you had gotten used to over time. The heat of his palms skimmed over your ears as he pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead before standing tall. But what you didn't anticipate—whoa—had really slapped you awake right then and there. For the mere five seconds you'd managed to capture a mental image, time felt as if it'd been stretched to hell when your boyfriend's crotch had leveled with your eyes. You hadn't realized the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and now that you've gotten a face full of…that, you're acutely aware.

You're shook to the core.

Your gaze trailed after his jogging figure, following the path up his long and toned legs to his cute little bu—okay, whoa! It's only 7:15 in the morning. You had no business indulging in these thoughts right now. Get it together.

Oh, he's facing your general direction now.

Are you staring at it too much? It's starting to feel a little warm, all of a sudden; it's the jacket, isn't it? Just how long is this going to take?

You're trapped on this bench. It hadn't even been 10 minutes since practice started and Coach Kim was rambling on about the importance of warming up while you're glued to your seat, pathetically staring at your boyfriend's dickprint while he seemingly had no idea. God, you felt like a perv. Even though he assured you that it was okay, you didn't want to just up and leave. This was a relationship built on give and take, and there were one too many times when he watched your concerts while knowing little to nothing about orchestral music.

You'll just suffer, then.

"Just fuck him."

"Lisa!" you chided, pushing three fingers against your friend's arm as she rolled her eyes.

"What?" She swirled her tongue around the glob of chocolate ice cream sitting on top of her waffle cone. "He's a hot, charming guy. Your own boyfriend makes you horny and that's supposed to be a problem now?"

"Oh, my gosh, I just…" you trailed off, eyes searching elsewhere for your thoughts. "I'm not used to being all"—you waved your hands disorientedly in front of you—"dirty…minded. He's the one who usually initiates it."

"Sex?"

"Everything physical, really," you clarified. "I just feel like if I start it, it's just going to be off—and awkward."

You sighed. "How am I going to get through this season?"

"Oh, yeah, the sweatpants; that's what's been making you a sex freak," Lisa recalled with an airy laugh. "Those things are like lingerie for guys. Especially the grey ones…oomf. 'Dicktoria's Secret' is real," she snorted.

You gave her a blank stare.

"Look, just be honest," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—which it was. "You really think any guy is gonna find it offensive that his girl's drooling over his bulge?"

"I wasn't drooling—"

"You will be."

"Oh, my gosh."

You weren't aware that having a footballer-boyfriend automatically signed you up for three months' worth of almost nothing but sweatpants. You also didn't know how many he had stashed in his wardrobe until now—it's good to know he didn't wear the same pair everyday. But this meant he had enough pairs to flaunt his dick outline in your face whenever you were together.

Not good for your cavewoman brain.

Fingers danced along your neck and you squirmed at the intrusion, meeting eyes with San's own with your face sporting a frown. The same fingers belonged to the arm lazing comfortably around your shoulders, both of you having snuggled together into mush on his couch while you binge-watched one of your favorite shows. You whined his name in annoyance when you're kicked out of your thoughts.

He chortled. "Sorry, I just—it's Buffy and you don't even seem that into it. Is everything okay?"

Let's see: it's a Friday night. His roommate, Mingi went to visit his parents for the weekend and you're all alone with your hot, charming boyfriend™ who's clearly gone commando under his sweats. And you're supposed to be watching Buffy slay vampires…how?

"Y-Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" you stammered.

He hummed in feigned ponder, and the knowing smirk surging its way onto his lips would've sent a churn in your belly if you'd actually caught sight of it.

"You know that my eyes are up here, right?"

Your eyes snapped up in panic, and silence was the only response you had sitting on your tongue. You wanted to hide in a cave, where you could wallow in embarrassment without disturbance. Your own boyfriend had just caught you ogling his crotch like a perv.

San tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, suppressing a smile at how you resembled a deer in headlights. "You thought I wouldn't notice?"

Your mouth was stuck in a battle between opening and closing as you desperately searched for the right words. With a defeated sigh, your face fell into the safety of your palms.

"This is so embarrassing," you groaned, words muffled against your hands.

"Hey," he laughed softly, grabbing your wrists in an attempt to retract your hands away from your face. "It's not a big deal"—you sighed when the light from the standing lamp washed into your eyes—"it's cute."

You gave him a funny look. "Cute," you stated, doubt laced in your tone.

"Yeah. Usually, I'm the one doing all the staring."

He scanned you up and down with a pondering pout on his lips, continuing on to ask, "It's the sweatpants, isn't it?"

"Do you have to state the obvious?" you whined.

"What? I just wanna make things clear, so I know what to wear for you," he teased. He shifted closer and smoothed a hand up your thigh. "I'll wear more for you."

If he felt the goosebumps on your skin, he didn't comment on them.

"You say it like it's lingerie," you quipped, recalling what Lisa said a few days ago. You're saying anything to distract yourself right now, but you crumbled easily whenever he touched you. And he knew it well, especially when his hand moved dangerously close to your pyjama shorts. You're not even sure if you were breathing.

"If it's gotten you like this, then I'd say it pretty much is."

He moved on to say, "I like it when you look at me like that."

Your expression was frozen. "Like what?"

San's eyes changed ever so slightly, his hand finally slipping between your squeezed thighs.

"Like you really want me."

Your thighs parted for him. "I…I do," you murmured.

"Oh, really? Where do you want me?"

"Where else?"

"I asked you first."

You made a quiet huff from your nose, looking down at his hand that's aching to pull your shorts down. "Inside"—you hesitated—"inside me. I-I would like it if we had sex…please?"

His lustful gaze turned softer, eyebrows raised high at your interesting way of words. While you, on the other hand, visibly grimaced. San found your eyes shutting tight and your nose scrunching up all too adorable, and without a doubt, he would've bitten your cheeks if he could.

With a chuffed smile, he hooked his fingers at the waistbands of your shorts and underwear, waiting for you to lift your hips. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's have the sex now."

You sulked at his incessant teasing, knowing well enough that he was purposefully expressing his words awkwardly. He laughed and assured you he would stop there, before grabbing your now half-naked body by the hips and having you straddle him. His fleece sweatpants were rough from the continuous use, giving you some nice sense of friction on your sensitive nub.

But above all that, you could feel the presence of his cock hiding beneath his pants, your pussy lips spreading the slightest on his erection. Your breath hitched as his hands made their way under your sweater, then your shirt; reposed comfortably at your hips as if they made home there. The pads of his fingers kneaded your skin as he looked up at you with expectant eyes.

"C'mon, get yourself off for me."

You waited with bated breath for nothing in particular—you'd just been momentarily distracted by his intense stare. Nodding too many times in the span of a second, you began to move your hips under the guide of his hands.

"Oh…"

There was a minor ache in your hips when he dug his fingers deeper in your skin, but you were too focused on the soft chafing of the fabric against your clit. It was getting you in the right place; so rough.

"Are you doing okay, Baby?"

You released an unstable sigh. "Y-Yeah."

He eyed the way your skin slightly folded with every move you made on his clothed cock, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Your motions grew faster and more impatient as you yearned for his mouth against yours, falling forward before your lips touched his.

He pushed you down each time he pulled you forward, earning growingly unsteady breaths from you into his mouth. You nearly choked when he bucked his hips upward, soft moans having no chance to escape when each were engulfed by his lips. You continued to do nothing but mindlessly grind your clit on him, humping his clothed cock like you were in desperate heat.

You didn't have the mind to warn him at this moment, unable to hear anything but your own moans until you were reaching your impending climax. And soon with trembling thighs, you came. Your skin grew rampant with shivers while your mind went elsewhere for the bite of a second.

San finally spared some mercy, separating from you with a thin string of spit connecting your lips before he's splitting it with a lick from his tongue. Stealing a glance at the dark spot you left on his pants, he served you a lustful, lopsided smile.

"This is what you'll get if you're just a little more honest with me," he chuckled.

Your ears grew hot at the sight of your arousal leaving its mark, adjusting yourself with your hands on the backrest behind him. You waited a few beats to gather your words before you muttered, "Well…can I be honest with you right now?"

"Of course."

San waited with patient eyes, his stare nearly melting you into goo while he thumbed your skin again.

"I'd like to have the sex—with your penis inside me…please."

He didn't try at all to suppress amusement at how you'd poked fun at yourself, hearty laughter producing from the pit of his belly. The dimples in his cheeks emerged from hiding as he grinned and nodded while pushing his waistband down, just enough for his cock to free itself. When his laughter had settled, he pressed a peck on the tip of your nose.

"Whenever you're ready."

You grabbed the base of his cock and pressed the tip against your entrance, pausing for a moment until you began to slowly but surely, sink entirely down his length. The stretch always started as an odd pressure between your walls, but once they'd completely swallowed his dick whole, it always left you wanting more. It's a feeling you don't think you could ever give justice to, if you were ever asked to describe it. He was just so right for you.

Your body gave into him as he pulled you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like a tightened belt. His hushed groans were made only for you, and hearing them continuously by your ear sent shivers down your spine.

"So warm," he muttered under his breath. He slid his bum further down the couch with you in his grasp and spread his legs wider. And when he was sure of the angle, he rolled his hips to meet yours, finding a steady pace with the most agonizingly unyielding thrusts. With every slam of his hips, your moans rendered into off-key whimpers as you melted under his guidance.

It felt like you were experiencing the hottest temperatures of the summer; your cheeks were burning and at moments, you felt like pushing away just from the sheer heat of your bodies entangled together.

A cuss left your boyfriend's lips when you gnawed on his shoulder, the salty tang of sweat grazing your tongue. And as if he wasn't holding onto you tightly already, he pulled you even closer as his cock rammed relentlessly, his rhythm growing sloppy when he began reaching his peak.

Your back felt like it'd been bent beyond repair as his cum coated your walls, the familiar twitching of his cock presented inside you. But he didn't stop there, he wouldn't until you came as well. And with his jaw clenched, he fucked into you like you were his toy, white rings of his own orgasm spilling with every move and making way to stain his pants.

"C'mon, Baby," he grunted. "Cum, f-fuck—cum, fucking c-cum…"

And in a few more thrusts, all you saw were specks of white among darkness. Your pussy spared no consideration on his sensitive cock and clenched as you trembled, the string of swears leaving his lips going deaf on your ears. Your limbs fell limp to pure exhaustion, despite how much you wanted to just wrap them around him like you were a koala and he was the tree. You wanted to mark your kisses all over his face but not even your lips were functioning right now as you barely managed to muster out a "thank you".

It was clear that it took a moment for San to register what you'd said, before he let out a breathy laugh. Not because he found something funny, it was just one of those laughs you got when you felt so euphoric—like getting your balls drained until you were a moaning mess; that kind of euphoric.

He kissed the top of your head, looking ahead at the TV where Buffy was still slaying vampires as usual. His dick stayed inside you, soft and relaxed in your warmth, neither of you in any rush to clean up.

"Mm…remind me to buy more of these sweats."

#ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #choi san smut #ateez san smut #san smut #kpop smut

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whiskygoldwings · 2 months

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The Tattooist

The first clone trooper client she tattoos is an act of remembrance.

The man stands forlorn and desperate in the reception area, his borrowed clothes fitting poorly on his slumped frame. His face is tight, like a man on the edge of screaming, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. She recognises this pain, and quickly ushers him into her workroom, calling for A'maa to take the front desk while she speaks to a client. He breaths slightly easier once they are no longer in public, and she gestures for him to sit on the well-worn sofa she reserves for guests.

“I haven't got many credits,” he admits straight up. “They don't exactly pay us. I just wanted to see what could be done for what I have.”

She nods and grabs a pad and stylus, settling herself into her armchair and crossing her legs. “Tell me what you want and how much you've got and I'll see what I can do.”

He swallows painfully, and reaches into his pocket. “I have exactly 134 credits,” he holds a handful of ingots, and she glances down before looking back at his face. “I looked you up; I know it's not much in terms of tattoos. It's just... It's all I could scrape together...” he stumbles over his words, embarassment curling his lips.

“And what you want?” She interrupts, halting his ashamed attempts at explaining himself.

He takes a deep breath, grimaces, then sighs. “My brother was killed in the last battle. His name was Star. The long-necks... The Kaminoans I mean, never let us mourn each other where they could see. But he's my brother. We were born of the same batch, he helped me when I struggled with the maths tests, we had each others backs... I have a million odd brothers, but he was mine...” He presses his thumb and forefinger into his tightly-shut eyes, choking back a sob. “I want to honour him forever. I want to carry him with me, in a way they can't take away from me.” At this he straightens, bringing his hand down to stare at her determinedly. “They can make us wash our armour off, take our possessions from us. They will have to flay my skin from me if they want to take this.”

She stares back, stylus against her lips, and feels a swell of righteous fury in her throat. She's always had a mild force-sensitivity. Not enough to make training her of any worth, but enough that she can get a feel of a person, enough she can get a taste of their emotions.

This is a proud, strong man. And he is not broken by the hardships he faces, as much as he should be.

She will honour his brother with him.

The design practically leaps from her stylus, as she coaxes little stories from him. Little tales of his brother. His name was Star, he tells her first, and she sketches the rough outlines of one. He named himself, the man tells her, not giving his own name. Named himself after the balls of fury in the universe that were always out of their reach of Kamino. He laughs quietly, painfully, as he tells her the first time they had snuck out on a rainless night, when there was a brief respite in the clouds of Kamino, and by chance, there was a meteor shower over head. They'd all been amazed, confused and delighted by the sight, their little squad of five. One of the trainers, a kind man named Kal, had chuckled and told them “That'll be a shooting star” when they ask him about the phenomena, and Star had whispered to him in their bunks that night that he had decided on his name.

“I used to call him a shooting Star when we were in sims,” the man admits, a crooked grin on his face. “He kicked me in the shin for it once. Think he actually kinda liked it though.”

She adds a trail of dust behind it.

“He was so proud of being an ARF,” the man whispers. “So proud when I was nominated for ARF training alone with him. I was never as good as him, but he always took me with him, wherever he went. When the Commander told us we were getting the training, he basically hugged him. The Commander just gave him a pat on the back and told him never to do it again or he'd demote him quick as sithspit” the man snorts. “He didn't mean it, but Star'd never moved so bloody quick back into a salute, I couldn't help laughing at him, the idiot.”

She tabs out and finds a reference for an ARF troopers helmet on the 'net, and draws the trail of star dust bursting out of it and curling round to meet with the star itself.

“Our battallion wears green. Mainly olive-green. The commander started it, reminds him of the General I suspect. We became Green Company.”

The dust trail gathers sprinkles of olive green, the Star limned in the colour. She hesitates for a moment, then asks. “What markings did he wear?”

The man startles; she'd been loath to bring him out of his memories, but she wants to make it accurate. Needs to make it accurate really. She can feel how important this piece is to the man, and she finds herself strongly opposed to disappointing him.

“He had two stars on the left hand side of his helmet, one within the other.” The man indicates a point on his crown, above his ear. “And his visor was lined in green. He had a stripe vertically down the right hand side, ending just under the visor itself. On his chest piece...”

She lets him continue detailing his armour, drawing another star in olive green within the big one, then delicately tipping the helmet to conceal where the star would have been on the left. She's good, but it would have been too small to depict without potentially bleeding into a solid line, and she doesn't want that to happen. Instead, she marks in the line on the right-hand side, and ensures the big star is representative of what she imagines was on the helmet.

He's trailed off, staring sightlessly at his hands in his lap. She doesn't want to shake him, suspects alarming a trained soldier out of his own mind would be a bad idea. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, and clears her throat lightly. He glances up at her, and she smiles and extends the pad to him.

“Is something like this what you had in mind?”

He blinks at her, than reaches over and takes the pad. She sees the moment when he takes in the image. His eyes widen, and a tear he's been holding back since well before he got here slides down his cheek. He presses his fist into his mouth, other hand shaking where it holds the pad and he nods, clenching his eyes shut. “y-yes... Oh yes...” He stammers, voice thick.

“Where would you like it?”

“Over my heart,” he whispers. “I will carry him always in my heart.”

She stands abruptly, making him jump slightly and reaches out for the pad. “Okay, shirt off and lie down on the bed for me please. I assume as a clone trooper you're routinely screened for any blood diseases?” He nods, standing up with a slightly dazed expression on his face. She nods back and turns away, beginning the ritual of preparing her inks. She's playing a game of avoidance now, knows she won't take this man's money, and if she can keep him from asking about it she may be able to get it finished before he finds out. She suspects he'd do the honourable thing and refuse to get the tattoo. It'll be harder for him to do if it's halfway done. And while normally she'd insist on a full disclosure form and signature, she gets the feeling having no hardcopy evidence of what is about to happen will be a very good idea. The pad will need reformatting after she's done, but she's been required to do that for other clients who want their body art to be completely untraceable, so she doesn't store anything of any import on it for long anyway. She hears the rustle of cloth behind her and smiles slightly to herself, pleased at a plan going well. “Would you tell me more about him please?”

The man takes a deep breath behind her, even as she hears the bed creak as he clambers onto it. “He was always good at slipping by unnoticed. It's how he kept us both out of trouble back in training...”

She finishes mixing up the colours she needs as he begins to tell her about their childhood, what little of it there was. Checks her machine and cleans the patch of skin above his heart as he laughs about a prank played on one of their batchmates. It warms her and chills her at the same time, realising how little they had, but what great things they made of what they did. She prints out the stencil and places it over his chest as he whispers about Star easing him through the tail end of a nightmare, checking quietly that he's happy with the position before pressing the needle to his skin. He breaths in through his nose once when she starts, and she glances up at him, but he smiles and continues on into a story about when they first met their Jedi, and how Star gushed about her afterwards. She sinks into the meditative process of stamping lines into being, bringing colour to life, all the while surrounded by the man's soft voice building a memorial to his brother in their room.

When it's finished, the man looks surprised. “I thought it would take longer than that?” He blinks at her, “And be more painful in all honesty.”

She grins, “You did your research well hon, I'm good at what I do.”

He laughs and sits up, wincing slightly as the skin stretches around the wound. She squirts cleaner onto a cloth and holds it towards his chest, pausing before touching the tattoo for him to give a nod of permission, then wipes carefully across it, removing excess ink and stencil gently. Looking it over critically, she's happy with what she's done, knows she's poured herself into this tattoo as well. The lines are clean and crisp, the colours deep and rich. The helmet tilts up to look at the star above it, the trail of stardust sweeping behind it and curling up to emerge from the opening of the helmet at the bottom. Olive green accents in the tail, the line over the right-hand side of the helmet and around the visor, and the outer and inner two stars. She nods to herself, and grins up at him. “Ready to see it?”

He swallows nervously, but nods. She feels her grin quirk into a proper smile, then holds out her hand to him. He looks at it for a second, then places his own in hers, and she helps pull him from the bed. She keeps hold of his hand as she guides him to the full length mirror just beside the couch, and gently pulls him to stand infront of it. The hand in hers trembles as he stares at his reflection, taking a moment on his own face to gather his courage, then looks down at his chest.

The noise that punches out of his lungs is almost animal, and she grips his hand tightly. He cries openly, other hand reaching up to hover just under the tattoo as he looks down at his own chest. It's several moments before he can say anything, and she stands next to him the whole time, holding his hand as he clenches onto hers. He cries and cries, grief finally allowed expression, as she gives him silent comfort in proximity. His first words are “thank you”, and she smiles at him, as he starts to collect himself and turns away from her to try and pull himself back together.

“I'll give you a few minutes to check it over and make sure you're happy before I bandage it up,” she murmers, and steps quietly out of the room, giving him privacy in his sorrow.

A'maa glances up at her as she steps out, raising an eyebrow. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be working today, and she hadn't considered that A'maa might have had to turn away one of her own clients when she committed to tattooing the man. But A'maa glances over at the door to her workroom and shakes her head. “Don't worry about it Elaah,” she whispers, “Whatever it was, it was clearly important.”

“Yes,” Elaah whispers back, walking over to cradle herself in A'maa's outstretched arm, seeking the comfort of her own found family. “Yes, it really was.”

It's a few more minutes before the man opens the door, glancing around the edge of it. She quickly cuts off her conversation with A'maa and smiles at him. “Ready to get bandaged up?”

He nods and smiles, face a little blotchy from the tears, though neither she nor A'maa say anything. She gives A'maa's shoulder a quick squeeze, then heads into the room, leaving the door ajar this time. The man stands infront of the mirror again, gazing down at his new ink, and she quickly grabs the bits she needs to finish off. He smiles at her as holds the fake skin bandage up to his chest, carefully sizing it up to fit nicely over the tattoo.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing hon, you paid me in stories.”

He protests immediately, as she suspected he would. “Too late hon!” she grins at him. “It's already on your skin and I'll throw your credits out onto the street after you if you try leaving them behind. Good luck winning this one!” She winks and pats him on the shoulder, turning away to grab his top and thrusting it into his abdomen. He grabs it and gapes at her, clearly not quite sure what to say, before straightening and flashing a sheepish grin at her.

“You planned this from the start didn't you?” He asks, pulling the top over his head and rolling his eyes as she throws him a cheeky wink and nods.

“I've got to give you something, this means so much to me... You have no idea...” He gulps and shakes his head, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. “Tell you what, I'll make sure anyone else who might be thinking of getting some ink heads this way?”

She shrugs. “I'm not going to turn down customers, but you don't owe me anything. I just hope you think of Star whenever you see it.”

“I will,” he murmurs, a hand going to rest over where the tattoo sits over his heart. He glances up at her. “My name is Trix. I just... wanted you to know that.”

She smiles at him, and gently rests a hand over his own. “Thank you Trix.” she says, smiling up at him, “Thank you for everything you and your brothers do for us.”

He grasps her hand with his other one and squeezes it tightly for a moment, before turning around and walking out the shop.

#the clone wars #clone troopers #fanfic #fanfiction #feels #tattoos #tattoos as healing #star wars #oc characters #also posted to ao3 #CentrauGuardian

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 29 days

Text

Untitled

[jungkook x reader]

"You wanna know about art? When the class president starts touching my face on darkened street corners, and talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal."

Or THE popular fuckboy in your campus suddenly signs up as the figure model to one of your extracurricular activities and starts showing his interest in you.

A/N: I'm not sure where I went with this. Thus, untitled. I'm not even sure where this falls in the tags. But, enjoy!

Jungkook is at odds with himself.

Part of him wants to leave and forget about this stupid idea. He doesn't know what compelled him to listen to Jin. What exactly does the old man know about dating anyway? As far as he knows, he's never seen him with the same girl, so maybe he should have reached out to Namjoon instead.

The other part is hyping himself up. In about a few minutes, you’ll be coming through those doors. Besides, it would be too late to back out now. He chugs his bottled water as if he were thirsty. Jungkook thinks he'll pass out from anxiety. If not that, then from how warm it is inside this garage turned makeshift studio.

He feels the beads of sweat trickle down his back and pits.

This is not good.

The class is about to start and he'll be stripping down to his boxers and he's all sweaty. Thinking about that uneventful possibility, makes him sweat more.

Fuck.

He notices someone walk towards the corner he has been hiding in. Judging by how good-looking his face is and the vintage clothing he wears, Jungkook surmises this must be the Senior organizing this art class. Taeyong? Taehyun?

Ah, Taehyung, he remembers.

"You're Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook only nods as a response. His dry throat keeps him from speaking, afraid he squeaks out a reply and embarrasses himself more.

Thankfully, the other man is kind enough to not assume his silence as being standoffish.

"Nervous, huh?" Taehyung smirks, but Jungkook doesn't feel like he's being provoked. Rather, it actually calms him—at least the idea that it must be a common occurrence for models to exude this much anxiety that it's the first question people assume.

"That obvious, huh?" A dry chuckle following. "Do all models get nervous on their first time?" Jungkook finally finds his voice. Albeit, a bit meek for someone with a strong commanding aura.

Taehyung smiles and nods. "More than you expect. Which is understandable. Jin hyung told me you're doing this to learn more about art?"

No, he isn't, he internally protests. He doesn't know what Jin told Taehyung, but the real reason he's here on a Sunday, as a supposed 'volunteer' model for a drawing class is because of you.

The rest, he let Jin fill it out.

But of course, he wouldn't divulge those. So, Jungkook clears his throat before responding with a meek 'yes' as he shoots his empty water bottle in the can, making a clanging noise. He smiles sheepishly at the circled crowd whose attention he caught. He cringes at how much he's going out of his way to act cool. He's never this way, and yet, he wants to make sure you witness him with his best foot forward today.

Jungkook sways on the balls on his feet, taking in the space when he sees you—just as you were hooking your bag in your chair.

Goddamn, you're pretty. He's watching you laugh with another girl stationed near your spot as you lay out your tools on your table.

"Ready when you are." Taehyung breaks him out of his trance, and he replies with a sheepish nod—pretending he wasn't caught staring at you.

Jungkook starts by taking off his shoes, then his leather jacket. He unbuttons his pants and the thought that you would be looking at his crotch makes him blush. He shamelessly imagines you and him as Jack and Rose in that sketching scene. But before he can pull his jeans down, a booming baritone voice hollers at him.

Taehyung hurries towards him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Jungkook freezes at the sudden aggression. His mouth puckers open and close like a fish coming up for air, as he struggles to come up with a reply.

Taehyung tilts his head and assesses the young man with a pout. "Did Seokjin not tell you this isn't a nude class? We just need you to strip to your shirt and jeans," Taehyung clarifies in a whisper.

Embarrassment floods Jungkook and he sputters out an apology. He silently curses himself between nervous laughs and incoherent words of what seemed to be apologies. Shy doe eyes peeps at you and the confused and scandalized look painted on your face makes him want to get swallowed by the ground and never reappear in front of you ever again.

You must think he’s some kind of a creep or worse, a flasher. With a big exhale, he tries to set aside the embarrassment and go through this. It's already bad enough that his nerves and recent embarrassment made a sweat stain on his shirt.

Not long after, Jungkook stands in the middle of the circle of easels. It actually isn't bad, he thinks. Most of the time, he's staring at wood stands and the occasional heads peeking out of the canvas.

You're on his side, so he can only see you through his peripheral vision. Even so, he can already visualize the vein popping on your forehead when you concentrate—just one of the things he adores on your face.

That afternoon, Jungkook finds out he likes the thought of you paying this much attention and focus on him, instead of the other way around.

He holds his growing smile at bay.

The hour-long class went quicker than Jungkook wanted. He takes his time picking up his jacket and pretends to search for something in his bag as he waits for you to pack up. But, you never rise from your seat.

It takes Taehyung tapping your shoulder to bring you out of your world. "You still get tomorrow, Y/N," he hears Taehyung remind you before walking around the room, checking progress.

Jungkook didn't mean to eavesdrop more, but when you stood up and followed Taehyung, he couldn't help but tune in to your conversation.

"I need a little more time to fix a few edges. Can I just extend for a while? I'll clean up the supplies room." You plead, voice kept low as if you're making an illegal trade with Taehyung.

Jungkook hears the older man sigh and call your name softly. "You still have tomorrow to work on it, and the next few days. Plus, I can't suddenly ask the model to stay just for you."

You whine petulantly like a child and Jungkook wonders if he can make you whine under different situations. Perhaps, under hi—

"He can go. I just need—"

The moment he makes out your reply, Jungkook was quick to cut you off and offer his time. "I can stay for a while."

Both you and Taehyung turn your heads to face the man who looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but he might as well have been. Your glowered confused eyes stare into him. "I-if you want," he stutters, so he tries to salvage his image with an obviously feigned nonchalant shrug.

Taehyung holds back his laugh but the sudden expulsion of air from his nose wasn't amiss, earning a side eye from you.

"No need," you answer with finality. "You get paid by the hour, right? I can't pay you and—"

"You don't have to pay me. I'm offering." Jungkook internally winces at how quick he was in offering himself. But if he were being honest, he would stay in this shoddy garage all night, through the blazing summer heat, as long as it's time spent with you.

Is it a crime that he's quick to take an opportunity when it has presented itself?

He thinks abso-fucking-lutely not.

Your eyebrows furrow, the 'I wasn't done talking' death glare you directed at Jungkook has him shift awkwardly on his foot and look everywhere else but at you.

"Still, I'd get in trouble for requesting more time, anyway. Can't have other students think Taehyung here has favorites." You press and it chips a bit of his confidence. It was obvious you didn't want him to stay. If he keeps insisting, you might think he's creepy.

Jungkook didn't want to seem too pushy anyway, and so, lets out a defeated "Oh.." and nods. His round eyes making it easy to see his dismay as it curves downwards a little at the sides.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Taehyung intervenes. The older man was amused as he watched Jungkook flounder around you, he also knows how oblivious and dismissive you are of guys like Jungkook to a fault. And so, he helps.

Ah, young love, Taehyung muses. "Just make sure to clean up and lock up after." He tosses the keys to you, but you make no movement of catching it, letting the keys hit your chest and fall to the ground.

Now your glare is directed towards your sunbaenim. "On second thought, I'm wrapping it up for tonight then." You head towards your easel to pack up your stuff.

Taehyung sighs.

He tells Jungkook to wait a bit and pick up the keys as he follows after you, calling your name.

“Just take the guy's offer to help. He’s trying to learn more about art, too,” he whispers, arms crossing across his chest. "Isn't this the piece you're submitting with your application? I know that head of yours will run nonstop if you don't finish what you intended to do tonight." Taehyung nudges you with a smile and softly jabs his pointer finger to your temple, making you chuckle with a pout. You shoo his hand away from your face and he knows he got you to stay.

This Jungkook kid owes him, Taehyung thinks.

However, from where Jungkook stands, he sees you breaking out the cutest smile at Taehyung. His eyes even going bigger at what he believes is an affectionate touch to your face when Taehyung boops your forehead.

Is that even ethical or something, he wonders irately. Taehyung isn't much older but given that he's your sunbaenim, Jungkook thinks he shouldn't be doing that. Or even be standing close to you. He's currently throwing imaginary lasers at Taehyung's back when you both turn to him and he immediately unsquints his eyes.

"Jungkook, do you still want to stay?" Taehyung shouts at the young man.

Yes.

A hundred times yes. He's a lovesick loyal puppy and if you ask him to bark, he'll bark for you.

Jungkook nods enthusiastically and rushes closer to where you stand, eager to wedge himself between you and Taehyung.

"Jungkook," you sigh his name tiredly. "I really need you to stop moving your head. Is there something more interesting behind me?" The question was rhetorical, but you're starting to wonder what he keeps on staring at behind you that you turn your head, only to be greeted with a wall filled with hanged canvases.

You hear him mumble out a you with a smirk, but was quick to cover it up with a sorry. This guy think he was slick.

Jungkook turns his head to assume his supposed pose. His eyes still filled with mirth. And he lasts about four minutes before his head starts turning towards you. Again.

You throw your head forward with an exhausted groan. This was a mistake. You're growing more frustrated by the minute. Maybe you should call it a night.

Looking back up at your model, you tell him he can leave.

Jungkook breaks his stance then quickly poses as he quickly persuades you. "No, I'll stay still. Look," he promises and follows through quickly by holding the pose.

"No, I'm just really too tired for tonight. Thank you for staying a bit longer." You busy yourself by grabbing at your stuff, cleaning pencil shards here and there to keep the lurking unease.

You can't have a breakdown here again, you admonish yourself. And it's going to feel worse after, if Jungkook's here to see it happen. You keep your head down while your hands wipe the charcoal dust on the table.

You hear footsteps nearing you, and you pray to whoever listens that he's not actually coming closer. He calls your name, his voice close and soft. You hum in response, head still hung low, refusing to face him.

Jungkook sees you rubbing an eraser at a blank surface and purses his lips. He finally got the chance to spend time with you and he was hoping to break the ice and get closer to you, but he does this—he upset you and wasted your time. You're not gonna want to spend more time with him after this.

"I-I'm sorry. I really wanted to help. I can stay again tomorrow to make up for tonight," he offers. Everything about him screams eagerness and he must really be interested in art to be willing to stay in the garage-slash-studio during this Summer heat.

You feel the tingling pressure in your throat and your lips quiver. You clear your throat and will away the tears before it breaks through your paper wall.

"No. You did great, Jungkook. I'm just not feeling well tonight." Your voice was too soft, but at least it didn't break.

Jungkook walks past you and turns to face you, hands making contact with your shoulder. "Are you sick? I have some medicine in my bag," he offers. He retracts his hand and unzips his bag to take out whatever medicine he had stashed inside.

It's his genuine concern that does it for you. You suddenly sob and cover your face with your hands.

"Oh, Y/N, are you okay? Does something hurt?" He didn't expect this. Jungkook was taken aback and his worried eyes looked for signs of where you could have been hurt.

Your sobs turned to full-on bawling and Jungkook was quick to take you into his arms. He lets you cry and occasionally whispers assurances between your weeping despite not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears.

In that moment, you stood illuminated by harsh yellowish fluorescent lights like a Gustav Klimt painting on display. The A/C humming noise drowned out by your hiccups and his whispers.

You were the first to pull away. He didn't mean to, but the moment you separated from Jungkook and lowered your hands from your face, he laughed.

Offended at his reaction, you push him away and quickly gather your bag hanging on the chair.

"Wait," he calls for you as he fumbles to pick up the bag he let fall to the floor.

He calls your name but you decidedly ignore him, feet shuffling quickly to leave the garage.

Fucking ass, you think. You're mortified. You already dread tomorrow as your imagination runs wild. What if he tells his friends about your ugly crying? You think you don't care what frat guys think, but you still definitely don't want to be the talk of the campus. You've only transferred here last year and after being briefed by your friend on who to avoid, you made sure not to have a run in with guys like Jungkook.

This is exactly why you were holding everything in earlier. Every stereotype of frat guys being huge assholes behind the charming facade were true.

A flash of high school memories ambush you and you just want to get to your dorm and hide in your blankets. You'll just have to miss tomorrow's class, you plan.

You violently shrug when you feel a hand grip your wrist.

"Hey, will you wait," Jungkook pleads. You turn to face him and see him reach something in his pockets.

Fuck. He's not going to take a photo, isn't he?

You were ready to lunge at him, anything to prevent him from taking a snap at your post-bawl blotched face, when all of sudden, a soft cloth touched your face.

Jungkook chuckles at your startled face.

"You have charcoal smudged all over your face," he points out. His bunny teeth peeks through his curved lips and the sides of his eyes wrinkle from amusement.

"Oh." You visibly flinch when he uses his thumb to brush the apple of your cheeks.

"There," he smiles, eyes fixated on his finger caressing your skin.

"You know you really have pretty eyes."

If you were in a romantic movie, his line would have panned out well. But you're not, so cue the sound of glass breaking to signify a shattered moment.

To think, you bought his act. You thought, here's a deviant frat boy species. Maybe not all of them are only interested in girls and booze. You even thought this Jeon Jungkook isn't so bad.

Until he says that.

Breaking away and stepping back from him, you humorlessly laugh in disbelief.

"You're a fucking cliché, Jungkook. Does this babble usually work on chicks?" You take a look at him and he has the audacity to look unaware of how hokey the situation is.

"Wha—" Poor boy couldn't even finish his sentence, you thought.

"Y/N, I'm not following."

You were about to make a joke on flies flying straight to his agape mouth but you hold yourself back. Instead, you make a gesture of shaking your head as you force out another dry laugh. You look at him one last time and walk away from the frat boy once again.

You hear his footsteps follow you, along with calls of your name. "Did I say something wrong?"

You stop as you reach the threshold—you're almost out of the garage and out into the cold dark night, ready to rush into the safety of your dorm and away from sleazy college boys.

But something in you compels you to turn, and so you do. "Yes, Jungkook. You did." Your hands grip your bag tighter, feet taking a couple of steps back into the garage, to the shoddy light so he can see you.

"Did you really think this charming ‘oh-i’m-clueless act was going to drop panties? You wanna know about art?" You hurl the question; voice no longer shaky and unsure. "When the campus playboy starts touching my face on dimly lit spaces, and starts talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal." You roll your eyes at him before making your exit.

It takes a minute for Jungkook to get his body to move. And when he does, you're already a distance away. Almost gone from his sight.

This is the second time today that you rendered him immobile and speechless. Just what the fuck did he do?

Meanwhile, you cursed at Jeon Jungkook on your entire walk home. Fuck him and his round innocent eyes for throwing the bees and butterflies in your stomach into chaos.

You tell yourself you dodged a bullet and that was just a ploy for him to get into your pants. You should actually congratulate yourself for turning away one of the notorious womanizers. Your roommate would be proud of you.

Still, you couldn't deny the jolt you felt in your chest when he touched your face and spewed those cheesy lines about your eyes.

You grunt as you slam the door to your dorm.

"Damn. Who pissed you off?" Jihyo, your roommate stares at you across her table.

You heave a sigh of exhaustion and plop yourself on the carpeted floor. "Had a run in with a frat guy," you spit with a scowl. "You remember the guy you were talking about last week? Jungkook? He's the model for this week."

"Seriously? That's..." Jihyo's head tilted sideways as she looked for the right word, brows furrowing. "Out of character for him."

You raise your head and prop your arms to face your roommate. "Right? That's what I thought, but Taehyung said he was interested in learning art."

At this, Jihyo pauses while eating and guffaws. "Is he for real?"

You roll your eyes at no one in particular and rest your head on your palms as your other hand plucks at the carpet. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just there to pick up girls."

Jihyo squints at you, suddenly alert as she senses something you haven't told her yet.

"He hit on me," you start. Already growing flustered at the recollection of the afternoon. "You know those cheesy lines from romcoms, he actually used them on me." You went on detail by detail about what happened and ended your story with a shudder. "This is the first time I might dread going to the class."

"Yep, I see why he thinks he could get away with the cheesiest line," Jihyo murmurs. Apparently, during your story, Jihyo picked up her phone and started to stalk Jungkook's profile. "I mean shame it wasn't nude because have you seen this body?" She flips her phone so you can see her screen.

"What? That's not Jungkook." You stand from your spot and walk closer to Jihyo and snatch the phone. "This isn't Jungkook."

"What are you talking about? That’s literally his profile,” Jihyo takes her phone back, wanting to take another look if you’re looking at the same thing. “See, Kim Jongkook. He’s the notorious fuck boy, probably in all departments. Good thing is, he’s graduating this year.”

Oh, fuck.

>> Still Untitled

#jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic

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dotster001 · 6 months

Note

If your still doing requests can you do a scenario where in the ghost bride event instead it’s the ghost groom and yuu is the one being captured as the bride

The Ghost Groom

Summary: Fem! Reader

CW: just like the ghost bride, the ghost groom has unrealistic expectations about what a princess is, Fem reader, reader gets kissed, but ooooh by whom?

A/N: figured this one was perfect for spooky week! I always enjoy giving the boys opportunities to be silly

One second you were resting in Ramshackle, the next a blue, and handsome, ghostly looking figure was gazing at you lovingly as you slept.

"Oh my God, is this sleep paralysis?" You whispered.

He giggled and booped your nose gently. "No silly. I'm just admiring my princess while she rests! Is there something wrong with that?"

You stiffened, and slowly creeped your hand over to hopefully wake Grim.

"Princess?" You asked nervously.

"Mhmm. I've searched so long for you. You can't blame me for just staring, right?"

"I think you are looking for someone else. I'm not a princess." Your hand finally reached Grim and you attempted to shake him awake.

He frowned. "Princess is a state of being. It's in the glint in your eyes, the quirk of your smile, your adorable furry companion, and your eccentric living quarters. Why, everything about you says, 'beautiful princess waiting for prince charming to save me!' But don't worry too much about it. Once we wed you will be a princess in title as well!"

"Huh?" You croaked out, hearing Grim groan out a confused sound, as some ghost knights approached the bed and pulled you along with them.

…..

"Headmage, the ghosts kicked us out of the school," Ace whined in Crowley's office.

"Headmage, what is going on?" Riddle asked.

"They took my sleeping spot," Leona grumbled.

"Oh, I suppose it is that time again," Crowley groaned, massaging his temples. "Every four years, on this night, the ghosts rise from the grave in search of a bride for the Ghost Prince. They'll be gone by morning. Nothing to worry about. Although," he paused thoughtfully, "usually they only camp out in Ramshackle. They don't tend to go much farther than the greenhouse. It's odd that they'd commandeer the school."

As if on cue, Grim burst into the room.

"Headmage! Some ghosts stole my henchhuman! You have to do something!"

Plan A

"I can't believe we agreed to this," Epel muttered bitterly.

The task force was made up of himself, Lilia, Vil, Silver, and Jamil. The "prettiest" members of the school.

The ones who could pretend they were women and get away with it.

"You want to save Y/N, yes? Then don't blow this, and remember your training," Vil snapped.

Epel grumbled and hiked up his skirts as he climbed a flight of stairs.

"Epel, the art of disguise is a very useful skill. It's something you can use for the rest of your life," Silver offered.

"Ah, that's my boy!" Lilia grinned, ruffling Silver's styled hair affectionately.

"I wouldn't do that, Vil might kill you," Jamil snickered.

The trip was long, and some of the task force had not walked in heels before, but they soon arrived in the dining hall.

"No, no, no! That is the wrong color! Everything must be perfect for my love and my special day!" The prince snapped at a ghost servant who was laying out a tablecloth.

And that's when they saw you. Dressed in a pearl white gown, a shimmering veil in your perfectly styled hair. You were covered in pearls and diamonds, and wearing an enormous, glowing, ring.

Oh. And you were tied down to a chair.

"Play it cool," Vil hissed to Epel, who was about to not play it cool.

Lilia stepped forward first, practically floating as he walked over to the prince in his large green ball gown.

"Your highness," he curtsied deeply, putting on a sweeter, higher pitched voice than normal. "We hope we are not too late. But we heard you were searching for a princess, and wanted to prove we were the truest princesses."

The ghost looked between you and Lilia, confusion on his face.

"But I've already picked my bride."

"They seem to be truer princesses than I am, Erik. At least give them a chance," you said hastily.

He pressed a hand to his chest in awe. "Your kindness knows no bounds! Truly, there can be no better bride than you! But to ease your heart," he turned back to Lilia. "You have permission to try and woo me."

Lilia curtsied again. "You are so kind. It is I! Princess Lilia! I can offer you a large kingdom, with many riches."

"But what is inside your heart, Princess Lilia. Do you have an animal companion?"

"I have a dragon!"

The prince gasped, and shot a bolt of blue lightning at Lilia, causing him to groan.

"A true princess must be rescued from dragons! She would never have a dragon companion!"

"Can't move," Lilia groaned. "Retreat." He hissed from his teeth, but it was too far, too late for them to escape now. Erik's eyes were on them.

"Your highness," Vil gave the most beautiful curtsy anyone had ever seen. "I have no animal companion, for my companion is my loyal hunter and bodyguard, who protects me from all the sins of the world."

"Hmm. That is very princess-like."

"This is so fucked up," you groaned.

"And you are very beautiful. Perhaps you are a true princess," he looked back at you thoughtfully, and your breath hitched. Were you about to be free?

"But Y/N is also a true princess."

"Oh please," Vil snorted. "As beautiful as she is, we all know I am the fairest."

You didn't feel as bad when Vil got struck with the blue lightning. It was well deserved, in your opinion.

"Comparing your beauty to another's is not very princess-like!"

Epel pushed Jamil forward, much to his dismay.

"Um. Your highness, I will bring you great gifts. My kingdom has," Jamil bit his lip nervously, "Jams. Lots of jams. Grape jam. Pear jam. Yam Jam."

"Yam Jam!" You tried to sound excited, hoping it would entice Erik.

"And jellies!"

"Oh!"

"And spoons! Tiny spoons! How did they get so tiny?"

You gave a cough, and Jamil froze. Then you heard, "Snake Whisper."

"You are unworthy of Y/N, and will give them to me," he said smugly.

Erik raised a brow. Then screeched. "How dare you! I am a true Prince. Of course I am worthy of Y/N!"

Blue flashed and Jamil was frozen.

"So, snake whisper doesn't affect ghosts. Got it," Jamil muttered under his breath.

"Panicked, huh?" You snickered.

"A little, yeah," he whispered back.

Epel stepped forward next, giving an unenthusiastic curtsy.

"I'm Princess Epel," was all he offered.

"You are the one of the fairest maidens I've ever seen! Almost as fair as my Y/N. Don't you agree, my princess?" You nodded enthusiastically, but shivered as you saw Epel begin to shake with rage.

"Her petite frame! Her doe eyes! Why if our daughter is half as beautiful as her, I shall be a very proud man!"

"DAG NABBIT SHUT YER FLIPPIN MOUTH!"

Erik froze, you stiffened, and Vil groaned in disappointment.

"Epel," he groaned. But the blue lightning was already flying.

"You're not a princess! You're a man! A crude man at that. You're not worthy of me, or my princess."

"COME CLOSER AN I'LL SHOW YOU EXACTLY WHAT I'M WORTHY OF!"

"Please gag him before he says something my princess shouldn't hear!" Erik cried, covering your ears, despite you having heard far worse from Epel in the past.

Once Epel was gagged, he turned to Silver. Who was, much to your dismay, asleep.

"Oh! This one must be a princess! She has a sleeping curse!"

"Maybe you should try to wake her?" You offered helpfully.

He looked at you, a tormented expression on his face.

"But I love you. And only true love's kiss can break the spell. Perhaps if I kiss you instead, our love will burst out and wake her! Minister, well begin now!"

"No! We can't begin! I, uh, I feel bad having a wedding while she's still asleep. And the dining hall isn't finished being decorated yet!" You cried. You'd been told by the ladies who dressed you "not to worry", that once you kissed Erik, you would be able to join his kingdom. His ghostly kingdom. No thanks.

You eyed Silver, hoping that the man who was typically the knight in shining armor would wake and save you. Nothing.

Erik sighed sweetly, pushing a stray strand of hair off your face.

"You're right. The wedding must be perfect. So where are my scones!" That last bit wasn't a question. It was an angry demand.

Crowley put down the mirror he'd been using to watch what the A team was doing.

"Well that was a disaster," he groaned.

"What a load of rubbish! He's literally looking for a princess from an old fashioned fairytale book! That's the only thing he'll let Y/N go for!" Ace shouted.

"It's kind of sweet, if you think about it," Deuce muttered.

"It's bullshit! No one's like that! It's an unrealistic expectation!" Ace snapped back.

"I know! I meant the part about Y/N!" Deuce snapped.

"Enough, cubs. It's obvious he has no intention of releasing Y/N. So we need a different plan," Leona said with a smirk, implying he already had a plan in mind.

"What were you thinking?" Crowley asked tiredly.

"The ghosts leave in the morning, no matter what. If they don't finish the marriage to Y/N, Y/N stays behind. So we just have to ensure the wedding can't happen."

Plan B

"Everyone understands their roles?" Leona asked.

Floyd, Ruggie, Jack, and Ortho nodded.

"Alright. Charge!" He shouted. The five slammed through the door, dead set on causing as much destruction as they could.

Leona began turning anything he could touch into sand; tables, decor, flowers, nothing was safe.

Floyd smashed every food he could get his hands on, delighted giggles leaving his mouth at regular intervals.

Jack flipped tables, and fought off the guards who attempted to stop them.

Ortho blasted various parts of the hall, having way too much fun doing it.

Ruggie snuck through the crowd to where you and the "princesses" from Plan A were. But your chair wasn't there.

"It's a trap, isn't it," he asked Jamil.

"It wasn't supposed to be," he sighed tiredly.

Ruggie heard an inhuman screech, and felt his body go numb, unable to move.

"Damn," he muttered.

"How dare you? How dare you!!!!" Erik screamed, dragging you along by a rope lead. He must have forgone the chair, and decided to just numb you like the rest.

"You're ruining my special day! Our special day! How dare you!"

He zapped Jack, then Floyd, then Leona, then Ortho. All four verbally protested.

"Shut up! Look what you've done! We'll never finish in time!"

"Initializing death ray," Ortho began.

"No! Ortho! Sevens, please no death ray!" You screamed, quickly followed by everyone else protesting.

The boy pouted, but shut down the death ray anyway.

"I suppose we'll just have to have the wedding now," the ghost groom began.

"No!" You shouted. "I mean, I think my guests and I all agree we at least need a cake, right?"

Erik squished your cheeks together, hearts in his eyes.

"Anything for you, my princess!"

Everyone sighed in relief.

Crowley put down the mirror and looked at the remnants in his office.

"Any other bright ideas?"

Rook bowed deeply, "If he is searching for a fairytale, we must play along. Oui?"

Plan C

Rook lead the march towards the dining hall, his cape and rapier complimenting his outfit nicely. He looked over at his men. The entirety of Heartslaybul. There was no one else he would rather have serve as his knights. Even if they had a hard time getting into character.

"The cape is pulling at my neck," Deuce croaked.

"Then be better!" Ace snapped.

"I will behead both of you this instant,"Riddle hissed, coming off more as mom than knight to the fair Princess.

Cater meanwhile was trying to get a selfie in his knight outfit with Trey, while Trey wanted no part of it.

"C'mon, Trey! We look too good not to post!"

"I'm too focused on the possibility of Y/N dying to look good for a photo!"

They were an unusual group of knights. But still. Rook knew they would more than serve their purpose.

They arrived at the door, but this time, there was a ghost guarding it.

"Who goes there?"

"We're the princess' knights. If you take Y/N, we have to come with." Rook gave a well practiced flourish of a bow, which was mimicked by the men of Heartslaybul.

"Ah!" The guard said. "Of course, forgive us! We should have informed you immediately!" He opened the door, and the men walked through, uninhibited.

Meanwhile…

"Mmm my back hurts. I can't stay in one position for this long anymore," Lilia groaned.

"And I'm bored," Floyd pouted.

"I'm losing out on beauty sleep. My skin will not be forgiving."

"Big brother has been trying to call me home for an hour."

Lilia smiled sweetly at Erik. "Look, forget the cake. How bout you just give her the smoocharoo?"

"What?!?" You shouted. Was Lilia selling you out?

"He seems like a good guy. You'll be fine, Shrimpy."

"I literally won't be fine, that's the whole point!" You cried. But Erik seemed to be thinking. And that wasn't good.

"You'll die, but there's a chance you'll be at the Isle of Woe! Then you have to visit big brother and I!"

"Ortho no! Not you too!"

"I mean, our guests are saying they don't need cake, my love," Erik whispered, his voice husky as he leaned in slightly.

"No!" You shouted.

"Smoocharoo. Smoocharoo." Lilia began the chant, but multiple voices quickly joined in.

The door burst open, interrupting the chant, and the kiss that was getting closer. You heaved a sigh of relief as you saw Rook and the Heartslaybul boys….all dressed like knights?

"Forgive our tardiness, your highness. Your beloved knights have finally arrived," Rook said loudly.

"Ah, yes. My knights. Good," you said, a fake grin filling your face.

"Your highness, the fact that you did not alert the princess' knights to your intentions, brings this whole arrangement into question," Riddle stepped up next the Rook, his eyes narrowed.

Erik's jaw dropped.

"Oh. You see I was so excited, I didn't…"

"You don't even have proof you can protect our Princess! Look at this room! It looks like a war happened here!" Cater gestured around as he joined the line.

"You're taking things out of context! I defended her, which is why she is still here!" Erik was beginning to get angry again.

Trey cleared his throat and stepped forward, "And what's this about no cake? Our princess deserves the finest of baked goods, which I am more than capable of providing. Do you have a kitchen nearby?"

"Yay! Trey approves of operation smoocharoo!" Ruggie shouted, leading to a couple chants of smoocharoo.

"Oh my sevens!" Ace shouted. "You all have zero dignity! No wonder you're frozen! You don't deserve to be moving with those attitudes!"

"What I meant was," Trey glared at Ace, attempting to keep more lightning at bay, "our Princess deserves the best, and I don't believe you've provided it."

They seemed to have finally gotten through to him. Until Deuce's sword belt just…fell off.

"You aren't real knights!" All five were frozen in one blast.

Rook giggled, "Ah well, we tried to save you. And the bitter defeat, and pure sorrow we will feel at your loss will fuel many a work of art!"

"Thanks Rook," you growled sarcastically.

To dig the dagger deeper into your heart, it was at that moment that the new cake arrived.

"Finally! I can be wed to my Princess!" He dragged your rope lead over to an area that had flowers arranged, and stood you in front of the minister. Funny enough, the minister was self aware and never asked for your consent.

"Then by the powers vested in me-"

"I object!" A voice cried out.

Plan D

You turned your head to see Azul, flanked by Jade and Sebek. Azul wore a crown, and was dressed in the very image of a fairytale prince. Sebek and Jade were in full armor.

"You have stolen my Princess!" Azul said authoritatively.

"Y/N's my princess!" Erik hissed, his impatience finally getting the best of him.

"I have a document right here, between the Princess and I, stating an intent to marry, and join our two kingdoms, for love of each other. You may compare the signature to that of the princess, but you'll find it's quite authentic."

Erik stared at the document in his hands, and suddenly his blue glow turned bright red, nearly blinding all of you.

"No! Y/N IS MY PRINCESS! A PIECE OF PAPER ISN'T GOING TO CHANGE THAT!" You'd only been scared of him before because his kiss meant death. Now you were just scared of him in general.

"Your highness," One of his ghost knights spoke up. "A true Prince would at least look, and honor the document, lest he becomes the villain."

Erik took a calming breath, his color going back to blue, and put on a tight smile.

"You're right. Okay, show me your contract."

Azul smiled, and handed him the golden document. He read it over, then looked at you with a heartbroken expression.

"You truly are in love with this Prince Azul? He is your fairytale Prince?"

Azul smiled smugly at you, and you fought back an eye roll as you nodded sweetly.

"Then I suppose I have to let you go," and suddenly the numbness of your body ceased, and you were able to move. You inhaled heavily.

He looked up into the windows of the dining hall. The sun was starting to rise.

He looked at you sadly, and gently cupped your cheek.

"I wish you every happiness."

And you couldn't help but believe him.

"Before I go again, my princess, er, your princess, deserves her kiss," Erik whispered. You held back a dry heave at Azul's mock bravado.

"Anything to ease your parting, your highness!" He stalked towards you, and you saw Jade snicker over his shoulder, while Sebek turned bright red.

"Princess?" Azul said with a smirk, though now that he was up close, you could see a tinge of pink over his cheeks.

"Ew, please don't," Ace muttered, but he was struck by blue lightning again.

Deciding to suck it up, you grabbed Azul by the collar, and pressed your lips to his. His eyes widened in shock, his face going bright red, but after a moment, he relaxed.

"Get it, Azul!" Floyd shouted, and he immediately separated himself from you.

"There, may you rest in comfort," Azul said, an arm around your shoulders, but his red cheeks showed no sign of fading.

"Thank you," Erik smiled softly at you, and all the ghosts faded one by one.

You and Azul stepped away from each other the second the last ghost vanished.

All the people stretched as they became unnumbed, groaning.

"Well that sucked,"Leona grumbled.

"I'll never get the image of Azul kissing Y/N out of my head," Ace moaned.

Epel gagged next to him, as he ripped off the ball gown he was wearing.

"Now what?" Vil groaned, massaging his neck.

The door slammed open.

Plan Party

"Ha! While you guys were busy, the headmage put us in charge of victory party planning!" Kalim announced, his crew following him slowly. One seemed confused, the other didn't want to be there.

"Absolute nightmare. I got the bad end today," Idia muttered as he hid behind the stacks of food Kalim had given him to carry.

Malleus looked around the venue in full confusion. Then he looked sad.

"Was there a wedding, and I wasn't invited?"

"Don't worry, Tsunotarou, I wasn't really invited either," you said bitterly. This made him smile sweetly, until he saw your outfit, making him confused again.

"But you're the one wearing the wedding gown?"

"Don't worry about it," you muttered. You turned to Kalim.

"What do you mean you were in charge of the victory party?"

"Well, Malleus and I weren't allowed to try and help, and Idia was busy, so after the headmage sent out operation fairytale prince, he told us to start preparing for the after party!"

You blinked a couple times, then yawned.

"Can we party tomorrow? I'm going to bed."

You ripped off your veil, threw it on the floor, then left the dining hall.

"Quick! Azul! Go after her!"

"Shut your mouth, Floyd!"

It was at that moment, Silver woke up. He looked around in confusion, then frowned at Lilia.

"Did we win, Father?"

"That we did my boy! That we did!"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

841 notes · View notes

43qh · 2 months

Note

if you wanna write a jack smut, I’ve had this idea but don’t want to write it haha

Maybe the reader and Jack are out at the bar after a win or something, and when reader goes to get another drink, a random guy hits on her and before Jack can step in, she handles it herself and defends herself and it turns Jack on and he immediately takes her back home haha

your wish is my command, lovely!

jack hughes x fem!reader

genre: smut

word count: 1.3k

warnings: unprotected sex

sighing, you lean against the bar as you closely watching your boyfriend from afar. he was playing some pool with his close friends, and he looked so attractive doing it. you mean, in all honesty, he looked quite good doing just about anything. being wrapped up in your thoughts, you don’t notice the stranger approaching you.

“hey, saw you all alone.” he grins a toothy smile, but it’s nothing like jack’s, and you didn’t even want it to be close to his. nothing could compare to his anyway.

“no, not alone.” you say nonchalantly, looking at him with distain.

the man doesn’t seem to notice, though, “you are to me.”

you grimace, clearly uncomfortable by the man’s presence. when you look back over at your boyfriend, he’s watching you like a hawk. you look back at the stranger when he tries to reach out for you, and jack quietly huffs in anger as he starts to approach you and the man that had the balls to hit on his girl.

“hey, fuck off.” jack hears your words as he stops dead in his tracks, wanting to listen to what you have to say, “i told you i’m not alone. i’m here with my boyfriend, and if you don’t take several steps that way,” you point in the direction opposite of you, “i’ll kick you in the damn nuts. i’m not fucking around.” you snarl at the strange man in front of you.

he just rolls his eyes, walking away like you said. you mutter ‘asshole’ under your breath as you roll your own eyes. jack hears every word, watches every move you make and how the man cowards away from you. for some odd fucking reason, the feeling goes straight to his dick. he can feel himself become flustered at the image of you standing up for yourself, like the independent woman he always knew you were. it was hot to see, to say the least. god, he needed to get out of there, with you.

jack approaches you this time, and you grin happily, “hey.” you greet with innocence, “you should have seen this-”

“i saw,” he strains, “we should go.” his cheeks have turned a flushed pink, and you tilt your head in concern.

“is something wrong?”

“yeah, i need to fuck you.”

he states it with a thin line on his lips before dragging you out of the bar. he doesn’t even give the courtesy to say goodbye to his friends and teammates before making a beeline towards the door. you gasp at the sudden movement, dropping your drink on the table and following him like a lost puppy. you notice how silent the car ride is, watching as he taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel with every turn he takes. you’re not exactly sure what has him so riled up, but you’re eager to find out the second you walk into your home.

“so, what made you drag me out?” you raise an eyebrow, and he knew you were going to ask questions due to the abrupt movements.

jack takes you into his arms, “you’re so fucking sexy waving that guy off. fuck, i wanted to take you at the bar, honestly.”

you clench your legs involuntarily, looking up at him in surprise, “really?”

“yeah,” he breathes lowly, inching closer to your face, “something about it,” he peppers kisses along your neck and jaw, “makes me wanna fuck you.”

you whine, “then do it.”

your challenge makes him tug you along to his bedroom, throwing you straight onto the bed. he doesn’t exactly feel like taking your dress off, opting with tearing your panties and making you gasp in surprise. you aren’t too worried, though, knowing he would just continue buying you knew pairs. his clothes are off in a flash before you could blink, and you’re eager to find out just how badly your confrontation affected him.

you lick your lips, watching in anticipation. “you deserve a good fucking. standing up like that to a sleazy guy all by yourself. i had no doubt you had in your hands,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss you, “looked so hot doing it, too.”

you moan into the kiss, bucking your hips up and feeling his dick slide across your wet heat. it feels like bliss for the both of you, making you swoon on the bed. you feel dizzy with arousal, grinding up against his cock and getting it wet.

“fuck,” he groans, “need to be inside you.”

he doesn’t exactly waste time before he begins to bottom out into you. you gasp, hands finding their way to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. he loves the feeling, letting out huffs and whines into your ear and making you clench in eagerness.

“keep doing that, baby.” he moves his hips in a rough manner, almost sloppy and structured at the same time. it was like he couldn’t control himself anymore. he was so lost into the way you felt, the way your walls hugged him so nicely and how fucking soaked you were. it was making him mad.

“jack..” your breasts bounce in your dress with each thrust, and he leans back to watch you intently, your face contorting into pure pleasure as he takes pride in making you feel that way. “feel so full.”

“yeah?” he smirks, “am i making my baby feel good? just with my cock alone?”

you nod quickly, reaching a hand up to grasp onto his soft hair. he groans at the feeling, fucking into you with fervor that seemed to have no end. it was pure bliss, and he didn’t want this night to end. he didn’t want this feeling to end.

“you know only i can fuck you this good,” he states, and his ego is riding on a high as he reaches that one spot that has you nearly screaming his name.

“y-yes! only you, jack. only you can fuck me this good,” your hand is tangled so deliciously in his hair, and every time you clench around him, he can feel a soft tug. it makes his cock throb each time.

he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last, and he could tell you felt the same way from the way you latched your lip between your teeth. it was a tell tale that you were close, and fuck it always got to him.

“yeah, that’s it, baby. take it like you need it.” he mumbles between moans, “take this cock like you fucking deserve.”

you roll your eyes back, mouth wide open as you feel the coil continue to build up. it was like climbing up to cloud nine, feeling the way his cock continued to throb inside you, hitting that soft spot inside you that drove you crazy.

“jack, fuck, i’m gonna cum.” you feel yourself beginning to unravel, and he smiles with lidded eyes, watching your every move.

“then do it, baby. no one’s stopping you. come on this cock and show me who makes you feel this good.”

his words were a breaking point, and you come undone. your cum coats his cock, squeezing him like a vice and spurring on his own orgasm, “fuck, yeah, that’s it. good girl, shit.. such a good girl.” he mumbles words lowly, almost like he was out of control of what he could and couldn’t say.

the feeling of his cock painting your walls white never fails to make you feel good. the pulse of his cock as he releases into and lets himself go. he leans his head on your shoulder, the both of you seemingly out of breath. it was intense, the feeling and the intimacy.

jack lightly kisses your shoulder, lazily leaving wet saliva in its trail. he sighs, “fuck, you’re good.”

you laugh, “you’re better.” you stroke his ego, making him chuckle back at you before giving you soft kiss.

“let me run us a bath, yeah?”

you nod, “perfect.”

#nhl #jack hughes smut #jack hughes #nhl smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes scenario #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl fic

413 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 7 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Helping Hand

Jungkook isn't kind, or at least he doesn't seem to be. But one look beyond the surface reveals that he's a lot warmer than one might think.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, angst, potentially triggering content, mentions of prostitution, fluff??

Length: 2k words

There is no taglist.

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You're sitting in the command center where Jungkook is busy steering the ship and putting in coordinates, while you're busy staring out the giant rounded window, watching planets in the distance and meteorites pass by, as well as the occasional star flutter around.

Jungkook had offered you to spend time at the command central outside of your room for once- though he made sure to emphasize that 'one wrong move' and he'd put you right back in there for sure. It's a little odd, how contradictive he sometimes is- but you believe it might just be what his kind usually behaves like. You're not sure- you've never even asked which species he belongs to, down the line. He looks like he might be a Bolku, with his color changing eyes and tall build- but he's missing the distinctive pale skin and horns on his head, so you're not sure. Maybe he's of a different kind?

"Do you.." He starts, not looking up from the control panel as he looks at something on the display down at his hands, "..have any hobbies?" He asks, a little awkwardly, but you welcome the attempt at a conversation.

"No." You shake your head. He frowns a little to himself, taps around on the screen.

"No?" He wonders. "Then what did you do all day back on earth?" He wants to know, and you shrug, before looking outside again, watching a large meteorite slowly moving past the large ship.

"Sleep, if there was no work." You answer. "But sleeping a lot can make your head hurt." You giggle. He doesn't seem like he finds it funny, though, as he sighs, sitting down on the actually pretty worn down chair.

"But if there.." he begins, watching something load on the screens in front of him, a soft, gentle pinging sound signaling something in progress as the system scans the ships's surroundings, "..if there was something you could do, to pass time and.. amuse yourself I guess, what would it be?" He wonders, eyes slowly moving up without his head turning at all, greenish blue gaze watching you from his spot at the control panel.

"..I guess, maybe crocheting?" You wonder, thinking to yourself. "Yeah. I saw older people sell those.. small crochet animals on the side of the street sometimes. I think.. I'd like to know how to make them." You say. He scoffs, clearly not impressed.

"That's nothing practical at all." He says. "What about productive things?" He wonders, arms crossed as he keeps looking at you from beneath his lashes, light sometimes catching on the two silver balls from his pierced brow.

"Well I mean- I'd produce those tiny animals?" You try and joke-

and as he scoffs at that, there's the hint of a smile, his head shaking as he returns his attention to the screens in front of him, scan now complete.

You're about to ask him if he himself has any hobbies, when something similar to an alarm sounds, red Warning label pulsating on the large windows to indicate something dangerous. Jungkook is instantly alert, eyes flashing a sharp yellow before they turn red, while he assesses whatever is going on on his control screens. And then, a loud bang and whaling noise can be heard, before the ship moves suddenly, as if pushed side to side by giant waves of water. It makes you fall from the ledge near the window you were sitting on, tumbling down the floor before you hit the wall on one side, shoulder harshly crashing against the edge of a metal console.

And then, it's quiet, only a slight small pinging sound again, while the system checks for any damage.

"Fuck.." Jungkook curses, before he walks over to where you're sitting up now, ship having stabilized again. "You okay?" he wonders, squatting down near you to watch you roll your shoulder before you nod.

"Yeah- just fell. What happened?" You wonder, looking at him, and he sighs, before he picks you up like a ragdoll with his hands under your arms to stand you up again.

"Scanner's got an issue." He shrugs, arms crossed as he walks back to the control panels. "Probably nothing too bad, but we can't fly like this." He grumbles to himself, while playing with the piercings of his bottom lip, eyes an icy and stressed color of turquoise, signaling his inner emotions. "We'll have to stop at the next Ship station to get it fixed." He informs you, and you nod.

"How long until the next planet?" You wonder, now a little worried about the safety of not only you, but the entire ship with the scanner not working properly.

"Not long. Crion is pretty much only a few hours away- I can get it fixed there." He says, and you nod.

It's quiet, except for the low rumbling of the ship and some beeps here and there, before he talks again, awfully soft.

"Don't worry." He says, sitting down in the chair again. "It'll be fine."

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Crion is a pretty, but very, very crowded planet. It's a sanctuary for many different species all across the universe, and it shows in the absolute variety of languages, foods and other items sold on the streets.

"Here." Jungkook tells you, before his hands come into view from behind you, clicking the tracking collar back around your neck. "I really don't want to have to search for you just because you strayed around- so please just try and stay within my sight." He says, clearly stressed about the whole situation.

The ship has a very obvious dent in one of the sides, damage that needs to be repaired before the scanner could even be talked about. You're not quite sure why, to you the dent isn't actually that bad and just.. aesthetically maybe a bit ugly, but you don't question it. Jungkook is the pilot after all- he'll know what's best.

While Jungkook walks over to talk to a greenish humanoid with multiple arms about his ship, you stay close, just like he told you to- though you can't help but look around here and there, loud metal noises and large bird like creatures in the skies making you a little anxious. "My people already looked at damage-" The humanoid alien says, a tablet in one if his four hands, as he taps with one finger. "Scanner B3 and E2 software. Scanner A1 and A2 fluid damage. And big case damage!" He argues, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

"Yeah I already figured that out myself- can you fix it?" He asks, a greenish yellow that underlines his clear suspicion of the person in front of him.

"Fix it I can-" The man says, three eyes suddenly watching Jungkook with challenge. "You can pay?" He asks.

Jungkook grows tense. "How much?" He wonders, and the man uses one of his three fingers to tap away, quickly calculating something in a program.

"Sixteen-" The alien starts, before his eyes move back to look at Jungkook. "-hundred."

Jungkook takes a deep breath, clearly not able to just say yes to that price.

"Is there any way we can push that down?" He asks, and the alien shrugs, putting the tablet away, before he looks at you.

"You can pay with slave." The alien person offers, leaning forward a bit to sniff with his cat-shaped nose. "Very young. I like- can work for us." He begins.

"Okay-" You start without thinking, when Jungkook's head snaps towards you, eyes an angry red.

"Excuse us for a second-" He offers the man, before he grabs you by the back of your collar, pulling you to the side and out of hearing range for the man. "-have you hit your head on the ship?!" He hisses at you, frown on his face as he talks down towards you due to the height difference.

"What? No." You shake your head. "You just- need to get your ship fixed and if he wants me instead of sixteen hundred that's a great deal-"

"I'm not selling you into prostitution just to get my fucking ship fixed, you lunatic!" He growls again, breaking eye contact as he looks around, taking a deep breath. "There has to be a different planet where we can get it fixed-"

"Jungkook it's fine-" You start, but he turns around and stares at you with a gaze so unfocused in it's emotions that it almost looks like his eyes portray every color they can at once.

"No!." He says, pupils flicking from one of your eyes to the other rapidly. "… I don't care. Anything but that. There has to be a different way." He decides, and maybe from sheer shock over his outburst alone, you don't question him any further. "Come." He instead tells you, and you follow obediently, no longer really feeling like going against his word.

"Have decided?" The man says, and Jungkook crosses his arms.

"I'll pay 850 up front." He says. "The rest after you're finished." He offers, and the man laughs.

"You crazy!" He says. "900 up front."

"Okay." Jungkook agrees, before he pulls out a small, phone-like device to transfer the money to the alien mechanic.

"You really not want sell slave?" The man tries again.

"No." Jungkook denies, finishing up the transfer before he puts his device away, and grabs your hand rather roughly, pulling you away from him after making sure to turn around one last time.

"And she's not a fucking slave."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"I can't believe this is the third time I'm asking you.." Jungkook sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What. Do. You. Want. To. Eat." He tries once more, because true to his word, he's been trying for the past hour or so to get you something to eat.

"Nothing." You say, yet again, almost a little amused by the game you're playing.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, clearly looking like he's either praying to gods above- or like he's really trying hard to contain himself.

"Jungkook you need the money to pay off the ship's repairs-" You start, but he simply tugs you by your hand again to a small, open food stall. "Jungkook-"

"Can I have something to eat for this thing?" Jungkook asks the short man grilling the battered.. fish? You're not sure what it is, but it smells pretty good.

"Hey!" You argue at his choice of words for you, and the man chuckles a little.

"Sure. That'll be five." He mumbles, and Jungkook pays before you can even argue- steaming fried pieces of.. whatever placed in a Styrofoam container that Jungkook puts into your hands.

"Eat." He demands, sitting down on a bench under a small roof with you.

You simply do as he tells you to, biting into the still steaming food, really pretty uncaring as to what it might be. It tastes sort of like fish- a little spicy, but very pleasant. He's simply sitting next to you with his back curved and his elbows resting on his knees, eyes constantly roaming around like he's some guard dog ready to defend at any given point.

He's probably still thinking about how to get the money for the repairs- and you still don't understand why he was so.. aggressively against the idea of just selling you. It almost felt like there was an emotional response to it rather than just regular sympathy for you. But it doesn't matter- because you want to help as well, considering he's been somewhat taking care of you for a little while now.

You poke his biceps before holding out your box with one piece of fish eaten, and the other just having been bitten once. "What?" He asks.

"I'm full." You say. He rolls his eyes, sighs, but takes your scraps anyways, eating them while swing your legs on the bench next to him. You're yawning, clearly tired- and he finishes your food next to you, before he leans back on the bench, and rather clumsily pushes you by your shoulder to lay over his lap, thighs surprisingly comfortably and warm. And after a moment of surprise, you finally put your legs up and use your hands to support your head a bit more-

his own resting on your shoulder, as if to make sure you know he's still there.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──👽── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #bts jeon jungkook imagine #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

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coline7373 · 1 year

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They got caught by Alpha-17.

#star wars #fanart #the clone wars #clone wars #commander cody #cody #davijaan #odd ball #cc 2224 #cc 2237 #clone cadets #baby clones #kamino #sw fanart #tcw fanart #silly silly doodle #my fanart #coline7373

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poorxsouls · 1 month

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Shadow milk cookie HCs!!༝༚༝༚✮

HC type: character x reader (mainly romantic)

!!︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶!!

————————————

TW: slight spoilers, mentions of stealing/theft, possesivess: (possible and slight yanderisk behavior??), PDA, affection, love, relationships in general(??), slight violence/gore yet mainly tame.

CW: Shadow Milk Cookie, the 5th beast yeast cookie. Created by CRK/cookie run’s creator(s).

Tags: CRK, cookie run kingdom, Shadow Milk Cookie, CRK x reader, CRK x you, cookie run kingdom x reader, cookie run kingdom x you, Shadow Milk Cookie x reader, Shadow Milk Cookie x you, x reader, x you.

—————————-

-JesterFace often enjoys giving you attention weather it be PDA or something more light. From hand holding to gripping your palm to the point it feels like it almost rips off, he enjoys every second of it! But, of course, he doesn’t try to go too far most of the time. Shadow milk cookie just enjoy teasing you by tracing his fingers down your chest to your stomach, mostly just being touchy with you.

-Shadow milk Cookie gets easily possessive, often finding excuses to justify his jealousy. Most times he whines about it whenever you scold him, he probably cry if you desire to see that. He normally plays it up, being dramatic about it which is stupidly easy for him to do. Shadow milk cookie had…. Odd hobbies let’s say. For example, he is what one would call a collector….. expect that those “collection”s are actually just stolen/taken as treasures for him to show off.

-Shadow Milk Cookie enjoys affection as much as the next guy, but he’s a bit of a weirdo about it… E.I will have tons of PDA, saying grossly (and maybe gorey) things as compliments, and so on. Speaking of compliments, you’d be surprised to see how poetic and creative he gets to praising you. To calling you dork and to calling you his dove, he doesn’t show his poetry much and mostly comes out of the blue.

-He’s bad, you have to live with that fact. Now, sure, he’s kind and friendly… TO YOU, but to others, he often treats them like toys/puppets which is easy for him to do. Sometimes he even invites you to him watch building burn down in your name, but normally he just goes on simple dates with you that are mostly just picnic and/or tea party dates to gossip with you.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is like a cat: He often doesn’t bother you with his affectionate (unless you beg for it), being generally chill at first, yet craves your attention. Sometimes he even lays on your lap like a cat, curling up to a ball while he (forces)commands you to pet his head. But, currently, he’s become quite the clingy one. You always have him be a step behind you due to him clinging onto you and whining whenever you complain about it, being a general brat.

-In conclusion, Shadow Milk Cookie is a great lover even if he’s an ass to you every now and then. You two can have a either lovey dovey relationship that makes other cringe….., or him being a crazy and possessive lover. Up to you what you want, he’s willing to play any role for you.

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

-Fin.

#x reader #crk x reader #cr kingdom #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie x reader #x you

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

I got you

How did this happen? I don’t know. I’ve been watching my person play too much MW2, and then went looking for Ghost fics, so now my brain is infected.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley/female reader AO3 - Part one of the Sassy series 3.8k words - one shot Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Blood, violence, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, size difference/kink, creampie, hurt/comfort. Lots of swearing. Everyone is bad at feelings. Notes: EOD = Explosive Ordnance Disposal. He doesn't know your name. You've never seen his face.

It’s fucking hot. Belize is so hot. It’s the kind of hot that clings to every pore of your skin, the sweat slicking across your body until you’re shiny, breath coming in short pants because the air is so god damn thick.

“Sassy. Do you copy.” Soap’s voice rings over the comms, snapping you to attention. Your fingers slip on the button. Belize would probably be better if this was a vacation, and not an Op. A gnat whines next your ear, and you press your chin into your shoulder.

“I’m in position.” You whisper. “All clear.” An affirmative rings back as Price gives command to the others. You sit silent. Gaz spits something over the radio, but it's not directed at you, so it doesn’t register. You sit still.

You always sit still.

“You the demo expert?” The brunette with a Scottish accent and scarred chin looks you up and down.

“I’m a bomb tech.” you dead pan, eyes darting around the tent. There are only 3 others here. You were expecting a whole team. He chuckles.

“Suicide squad. Nice.” Another man, rises from where he’s sitting a few yards away. You recognize him immediately. Price.

“Sassy.” He extends his hand, and you grip it in yours.

“Captain.”

“It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” You nod, managing to steal another look at the others. A younger guy sits on a table in the far corner, ball cap sitting on top of his head. A bigger man, broad, stands near an open flap, arms crossed across his chest, eyes watching you from behind the skull mask that’s pulled down his face.

You do a double take. For a second, you think he’s Mace. Your heart pounds in your chest. Price is speaking, but you’re not hearing a word. Your fingers curl into a fist as you shake your memories loose and refocus. The man in the skull mask doesn’t react, doesn’t even flinch in reaction to your odd behavior.

That’s not Mace.

So, it must be Ghost.

“I’ve got two making entry, east side.” You whisper into the radio, watching the men push through the door. You’re nowhere near a clean shot. You curse. “Soap. Come in.” The line is silent, and unease pools in your gut. “Captain, do you copy.” You call, the words cutting into the air. What is going on? “SOAP.” The word is a hiss that’s met with uncomfortable silence. Fuck.

“Why does the Captain call ya Sassy?” Soap asks one night. You’re outside under the bug net, sitting on a picnic table with him. Ghost looms ten feet away, a barely touched bottle of beer looking tiny in his massive hand. You smirk at the question.

“I’m a pain in the ass.” You say affectionately, lips curling into a smile. “But I’m also the best.”

“You’ve gotta be next level crazy to run with EOD.” Soap tilts his beer to his lips, polishing the rest off with a burp. “’Scuse me.” He stands, he stumbles, he dips into the dark where he can’t be seen. You hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“How long you been a bomb tech?” you whip your head around at the sound of Ghost’s voice, directed towards you. It nearly makes you stutter.

“A few years.”

“That all you do?” The presumption shocks you. Private sector or not, these guys were all the same. If you’re a bomb tech, you must not be able to handle a gun. You whirl on him fully, taking two steps in his direction, your own glass bottle pointed in your hand.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

He cocks his head.

“Can you shoot, Sassy?” your upper lip trembles as it curls in disdain.

“I can shoot your dick off if you’d like.” He’s still ten feet across the way, but you’re shaking with anger. You watch as the impression of the mask shifts, the bottom half of the skull moving with his lips.

He’s fucking smiling at you.

You’re about to let a stream of expletives fall from your mouth when Soap stumbles back under the net, face goofy and carefree. He draws your attention to a specific lightbulb, drunkenly mumbling something about its color that briefly distracts you.

When you look back at Ghost, he’s gone.

The men are setting charges against the exit door that the 141 is planning to use. “Damn it all to hell.” You curse, slinging your rifle over your shoulder and making a beeline off the roof. “I’m vacating.” You huff into the comms. “Inspecting demo charges, east side. Does anyone copy?” The radio silence is freaking you out. The 141 is practically a machine, for Christ’s sake. Methodical, clinical, well-practiced. A small infiltration should have been a piece of cake. You’re scurrying down a ladder when the radio crackles. Your diaphragm heaves in relief. Ghost’s voice fills your ears.

“Roger Sass. Keep me informed.” Me, not us. He’s slipping.

The door wasn’t locked.

The door wasn’t locked, and you really had to pee. These guys could piss in the yard, they could piss in a can, they could piss out the window of the truck for all you gave a shit. You needed a toilet.

You shouldered through the door, eyes down until you felt it slam against solid mass.

When you jerk your head up in confusion, all you see is black face paint and blonde eyelashes in the little mirror over the sink. The look in his eyes as he meets your gaze stuns you.

Ghost.

“Shit. Fuck.” You avert your gaze like you’ve seen him naked. Which is ridiculous, honestly. You didn’t even see the man’s whole face. “Sorry.” You mutter, turning on your heel.

“You’re alright, Sass.” He steps away from the sink. “I’m finished.” You stand halfway in the doorway, halfway in the tiny bathroom. You’re not even sure it is tiny, to be honest. It just looks small compared to his giant frame. You eye his bare hand, foreign to you without the glove, and swallow.

“Okay.” You turn to the side to give space for him to squeeze by you. He’s still wearing his tac gear, down to the tight-laced boots and vest. You already shed yours when you crossed the threshold of the tent, depositing it in the corner so you could breathe a bit. You shift when he passes, the roughness of his vest brushing against your thin sports bra and tank top. He’s looking down at you as he pauses in the doorway, with his head cocked to the side, brows lowered, eyes cataloguing your body. He lingers on the gash in your shoulder.

“Get that cleaned up.” It’s an order.

You swallow, even though your mouth is well past dry.

“I’m pushing towards the door.” You cross the street like a cat, slinking against the buildings and sticking to shadows. Soap chirps something over comms, but it’s too garbled to hear. You creep around the corner, ducking your head once to check for all clear before you’re crouched, walking slowly towards where you see the blinking charges. “I’ve got live explosives.” You wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead as you whisper into the comms. “Repeat. Live charges on east door.” It’s Price that answers you, a gunshot echoing from two floors above.

“Clear it, Sassy.”

“Copy.”

“I knew a guy.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it off, but your eyes dart between the three of them.

“That wore a skull mask?” Gaz’s voice is incredulous, and you don’t blame him. It’s hard to believe. You nod. Ghost’s eyes watch you from the dark. They pin you down, marking your every move. You push it further.

“His name was Mace. I ran in a private company with him for a minute.” Soap visibly shifts, body angling towards his LT. Ghost’s hand flexes on his thigh. The fidget confirms your suspicions. You sip the last of your beer and beam it towards the rim of the metal trashcan. “It was short lived.”

They’re rudimentary. You’ve seen shit like this before, usually in IEDs, sometimes in homemade Semtex. You can practically hear your dad’s voice as you snip and pull wires. It’s like a dance. Watch your feet, or it’l go hot on ya. The lack of sophistication is laughable, and you’re pulling the first one off the door hinge in record time. You’re nearly congratulating yourself, all cocky and stupid, when you hear the telltale click of a gun.

The end of a barrel presses to the back of your skull.

“Don’t move.” You raise your hands slowly as the voice instructs you. “Turn around.” Your stomach bucks into your throat as you eye the man and his wild eyes. He looks desperate. Not good. “Those your guys up there?” He nods his head upwards. You stay still. You stay silent.

It started as a drinking game. You’d lose a hand; you’d tell a truth.

He’d lose a hand; he’d tell a truth. The half empty bottle of tequila lubricated you both, keeping you loose and easy, little pieces of your lives slipping your from lips without a care.

“You know mine.”

“Everyone knows yours, Simon.” You use it for affect. You can practically see him scowling under the mask.

“That’s what I want Sass, you lost. You spill.” He turns away from you and swipes the bottle from the table, lifting the bottom of the mask to take a swig. You sigh.

“Not going to happen. Pick something else.”

“Come on.. It’s just your name.” the gravel in his voice sends shivers across your skin.

“And it’s just your face.” His head jerks back in surprise, and he puts the bottle down on the table unfolding his giant legs from underneath the picnic table. He’s leaving. “Oh, come on.” You call at his retreat, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back at you.

“Well?” The man steps closer, and you eye the other charge that’s still live. You’re not good in these situations. You’re a bomb tech, not a people person. The gun barrel presses more firmly against your head.

“Ye- yeah. They’re mine.” He leers at you. He’s not the same as the other two, the guys who planted these charges. He’s someone else. Your radio crackles.

“Sass.” It’s Ghost. You close your eyes for a second and try to get a handle on yourself. You’ve been through way worse. Get it together. “Sass. You copy?” The man with the gun studies you for a second, before he’s reaching for your radio, ripping it from your tac vest as hard as he can. You watch as his finger presses on the comm button. You lunge, yelling in warning, hoping it makes it through the static. He spins, trying to dodge you but you reach for his gun, desperate to pull it from his hands before he can fire it. You hear shouting behind you, the heavy thud of familiar footsteps drawing closer as you wrestle over the weapon. You catch a glimpse of Ghost from the corner of your eye before the guy you’re fighting with is turning, barrel pointed right at your chest. Shit.

“How’d you get into bombs?” you laugh at the question, and then tilt your head and study him.

“I like puzzles.” His eyes flick back and forth behind the mask, watching you as you watch him. You decide to test it. “My Dad can’t do a crossword, but he’s got a way with wires. Passed it down to me, I guess.” He nods knowingly. You don’t say anything further. The air between the two of you feels thick, and it’s not just the heat.

“How’d you get into SAS?” he grunts.

“I’ve got a way with guns.”

Your eyes blink open slowly to the feel of your cheek being smashed against someone’s tac vest. The guys are shouting. An engine is roaring. Your abdomen is burning.

“Shit.” You slur, vaguely aware that you’re sitting in someone’s lap, arms supporting your body as the truck careens around a corner. “Shot?” your mouth struggles to form the word and you look down to see a massive hand pressed against your ribcage. Ghost’s hand. Your own fingers crawl over his. They’re wet. Blood.

“Don’t move, Sass.” His voice is low, and he only glances down at you for a second but you know. You can feel it in the way his palm presses into your wound. You can see it in the tick of his jaw. You groan.

“Fucker shot me?” Your tongue weighs a million pounds. Gaz swears nervously next you on the seat.

“You’re alright.” Ghost says, legs flexing as the truck takes another turn, trying to keep you from jostling too much. “You’ll be fine.” You nod your agreement. You feel thick fingers stroke through the hair at the crown of your head as you drift off, the world tinging to black around you.

“LT doesn’t call you Sassy.” Johnny muses. You stretch your arms in the chair, twisting your back in hopes of cracking it a bit.

“He doesn’t.” you confirm. It’s just Sass with Ghost. Always.

“Why?”

“Don’t know.”

You wake again when you get back, your body still pressed the Ghost’s chest as he powers through camp, practically running towards the med tent. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion, and at superspeed. You can’t see straight. The fire shooting in your nerves makes you want to gag. There’s someone else, walking next to you. They’re speaking in low tones to Ghost, and they brush their hand along your shoulder like they’re trying to grab you. He barks something at them, curling your body closer to his, and then you’re slipping away again, closing your eyes to fall into darkness.

“Do you ever think about what’d you do, if you didn’t do this?” he shakes his head no, immediately.

“You?” you drink a swig of water, holding the bottle out to him. His fingers wrap around yours as he takes it.

“I think I’d like to work an office job. Something boring, you know. Uneventful.”

“You wanna be bored, Sass?” You shrug, and step closer, your hips brushing between his spread legs. He blows a breath out through his nose.

“I’m sure I could find a way to make it interesting.” You take another sip, letting a single drop slip from your bottom lip and down your throat. Ghost tracks it the entire way.

He doesn’t really speak to anyone for days after you wake from surgery. And when you’re finally moving around, back with the team, he acts like he can’t see you.

It’s weeks later, when you sit next to him at the top of the stairs of the new safehouse you all moved to. The rest of the team is down in the living room, crowded around the smallest TV that Gaz rigged, watching a soccer game.

“You good?” you ask and turn to him. He doesn’t respond, just stares at the peeling paint on the opposite wall. You reach out to him slowly, watching his eyes flicker in case it’s more than just, general brooding Simon. “Ghost?”

“He put a bullet in your ribs.” Oh. Oh.

“Shit happens.” You shrug and try to play it off.

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” He turns to look right at you, something wild lurking beneath his skin. His hand shoots out and grips you by your collarbone, five fingers folding over it with ease. He could snap you in half. You swallow thickly.

He jerks your torso, moving you like a ragdoll until he’s leaning down into your face.

“Shit doesn’t happen to you.” he says again, and you nod. His grip is strong, and his blatant contact with your body heats something alive between your legs. Something the two of you have been dancing around until this point.

“Okay. Okay, Ghost. I got you.” You whisper. His ungloved hand comes up to press a thumb into your bottom lip, sliding it across the skin there. He’s wearing the mask, but you can see the blonde flutter of his eyelashes, eyes heavy as he regards you. You blink once, twice, before he’s hauling you up with both hands, wrapping an arm around your pliable body and pushing you into the shadow of the landing. For a moment, neither of you move, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay when he pushes you back against the wall, nose pressing into the curve of your jaw, fingers stroking the outside of your pants above your cunt. It stuns you, it thrills you, and you’re immediately trying to strategize how to get your hands inside his pants. He pats you softly and it’s not enough friction, so you push your hips towards him, fingers trying to loosen his belt. He grabs your wrist, and you look up at him. He’s staring at you differently, intensely, like he wants to pull you apart and put you back together. You gulp, and then he snakes his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, down to the seam of your cunt. The pads of his fingers are calloused, and you bite down on your tongue as he strokes over your clit. Your body explodes with tiny little shocks, and you whimper, your lips pressing to the outside of the cloth stretched across his face. “You’re wet.” His voice is rough. “Y-yeah.” You stutter. “That’s what happens.” He growls. “Your mouth” he thrusts a finger upwards inside you, forcing you to gasp. “is annoying.” You lean your head back against the wall give him an open-mouthed smirk. “So shut me up then.” His head tilts, and something dark flashes across his eyes. You grin.

He’s got your pants down around your ankles, your face pressed against the cool stone of the wall, and a hand up your shirt, fingers twisting one of your nipples as the other swirls the head of his cock through your wetness.

“Fuck.” He growls above your ear, his cock breaching you, pushing steadily against your walls, slowly tearing you apart. Your cunt clenches around him, the burn of the stretch too good, and too much at the same time. His shoulders bear over yours, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

“Ghost.” You whine, palms slapped against the wall. His free hand moves to cover your mouth.

“Hush. You can take it. Hold still.” You freeze because, well, Simon says. You shriek against his hand as his cock pushes into your cervix. He’s so big. It hurts. It feels so good. He thrusts, dragging his cock down and then up, over and over until you’re a teary mess, grunts and whimpers slipping out between the lips you’re trying to keep closed. He pauses, fingertips lightly brushing over where gauze is still wrapped around your body. “Good?” he whispers above your ear, and you nod frantically.

So good. Too good. Don’t stop.

He fucks into you slowly, working you open with a patience that surprises you. His breathing is harsh and unsteady, one arm bracing against you to hold your body in place, the other pressing against your cunt, his fingers finding your clit with ease. It’s too much, and your body jolts backwards, nestling your ass deeper in waiting space between his hips. He holds your there, rubbing circles around your clit and sliding his cock in and out of you, the sounds your bodies are making together probably way too loud considering the team is sitting just downstairs. His hand releases your mouth, and you shove your face against the wall, desperate to find some leverage.

His lips press against the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. His lips without the mask. Your eyes widen as you make the realization, your brain putting it together as you feel his teeth nibble into you, lips sucking blood to the surface of your pores so he can mark you. You can’t turn your head to look, and even if you wanted to, you don’t think you would. He doesn’t even know your name. He groans into your skin, the feeling of his unmasked jaw pressing against you is something you’re going to be holding onto long after Belize. He strokes your clit, pushing and pulling your body towards an orgasm, your walls clenching down on him as he ruts against you.

“F-fuck, Sass. That’s it, good girl, that’s it. Come for me.” The praise electrifies you, and then you explode into a white-hot orgasm, coming with him lodged deep inside of you, his arm holding your twitching body against his. He fucks you through it, steadily, rushing after his own release, and he presses his nose into your hair as he whispers something unintelligible. Your orgasm is still lingering, every one of your nerves alive and on fire, and you’re a whimpering mess against him. The floor creaks under the steady movement of his hips, his body working yours relentlessly as he thrusts up into you until he’s coming, filling you up, shaking with your call sign on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me see your face now?” you’re sitting out back on a half stack of bricks, passing a beer back and forth. He turns every time to adjust the mask when it’s his turn for a sip.

“You gonna tell me your name?” you chew on your lip, and he nods, handing the bottle back to you as he stands. “I don’t need your name Sass. I’ve already got you.” His fingers stroke through your hair, the touch soothing and sweet, and you find yourself speechless.

“You don’t have me.” You rebuff him indignantly.

“That so? We’ll see.” He leaves you sitting outside with the beer, eyes staring daggers at his retreating back. It’s a different thing, to be had, to be known, in a world like this. You don’t know if you can do it. You don’t know if he can either. You glance through the screen door into the back of the house, where he stands leaned against a counter talking to Soap. His head tilts, and he finds you with that same gaze, the one he gave you when he had himself buried in your cunt. You shiver.

Okay, Ghost. I got you.

I’ve already got you.

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