#i want his crispy ass so bad
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peppermint gum, m | jjk | and burst forth
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
It’s impossible to fall in love when you’re already in love. And Jeon Jungkook was in love. Helplessly. But what could he do? Time passed. The world became tasteless to his eyes. All he could do was hold onto the crisp and intense color of those memories, remember her words, and wonder where she was now. Savor, and burst forth.
click here for part i | this is part ii | total wc: 25k
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse - child neglect and abandonment; sloooow burn; mild alcohol consumption; hardcore pining JK; angst and fluff and feels; (in part ii) smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamic, so much kissing, hair pulling, scratching / marking. grinding, choking, m-receiving oral, finger sucking, fingering, nipple play, m-masturbation, thigh riding, edging, penetrative sex, doggy, multiple orgasms); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; from lovers-to-strangers-to-lovers again :)
non-idol!AU; pining!Jungkook x noona!reader — ft JK’s helpful? friends Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin; reader’s close friend and talented guitarist, Kang Hyungu (ONEWE’s Kanghyun if you want to see his appearance, hehe, same personality); JK has all his piercings and has hair (lol)
--
Jungkook woke up with crusty eyes and on top of the love of his life.
Sexy.
Not.
He woke up with a start, the last dregs of an icy and panicked nightmare clawing at him. He couldn’t even remember what happened. The only way he could describe the sensation was that it was as if the color blue had become an emotion. Which was crazy talk, but honestly at this point what was new? After all, Jungkook was peeling his eyes open with effort and seeing the most beautiful sleeping face under him, even with the dark circles under her eyes.
He froze.
Oh, shit, what have I done?
A frown flitted over her features.
Her eyes opened a crack.
He squeaked and immediately ducked. Shoved his face into her chest, hurriedly wiping away at his face with the cuffs of his sleeves. I can’t show my face like this, I look so stupid and pathetic, I–
“Jungkook?”
Her voice was low and unused.
“What… What the fuck are you doing?”
He could still feel the residual ache between his eyes from crying so much, but at least he had cleaned up his eyes and felt a little less like a crispy bun left in the oven too long. “I…” Pausing, but the truth came tumbling out anyway. “I didn’t want you to see me ugly…”
He mumbled into his hands.
She snorted and Jungkook jumped as her hands settled in his waist, squeezing him, only now realizing that his sweatshirt paws were on top of the curve of her breasts. Thankfully, she was clearly wearing a padded bra under. How she slept in it was beyond him. Then again, she managed to sleep with a whole ass man on top of her, although his lower body was in between her legs.
She held onto him.
“Believe me, I’ve seen ugly. You’ll never be close to ugly in my eyes.”
She said it sleepily and with her head tilting back to stretch her neck. He couldn’t say anything. How could he? Oh, sure, if he was unserious, and he opened his mouth to joke back but nothing came out. He almost wanted to cry again. Instead, he shut his mouth and trembled, trying not to put too much weight onto her. She either didn’t care or had enough grace to not comment.
“You still snore pretty bad.”
“S… Sorry.”
She cracked her neck and exhaled over his head.
Her hands relaxed and slid over his lower back.
His eyes widened, overwhelmed by the cool, heady rush swirling through his body at her touch.
“I got used to it then, so I guess it’ll just take time,” she murmured.
For a second.
For a fleeting, perfect second, Jungkook was held by his most precious memory.
Then, she patted him in the back and her hands retreated. A soft groan and her palms planted onto his chest, lightly pushing him away, wiggling under him. He promptly backed up, turning his head away and hiding his disappointment, but she didn’t look in his direction, stretching and yawning, pointing towards the bathroom, go ahead and get washed up, I’ll get you a towel for your face, and he latched onto the suggestion to scurry away, trying not to seem too hurried, his large black parka carelessly falling onto the floor with a heavy thump.
It was suddenly cold and far too bright.
But he couldn’t run back to her.
His head snapped towards the mirror the second he burst into the bathroom.
I look like shit.
The pink flush on his cheeks deepened to red as he approached the sink, dropping his head and turning on the water. Splashing his face and gasping at the cold. Fuck, I am such an idiot. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be cool, calm, and collected and sweep her off her feet with his newfound coolness. Instead, he had broken down and cried like a child in her arms until he passed out from all the emotional energy he expelled. Great. Way to look dumb, Jeon Jungkook. He scrubbed at his face with his palms, hoping to peel off a layer and reveal a better man, as if he was some kind of golden onion and not a fractured, incomplete, whiny little bitch.
“Hey. Hey! Maybe you’ve heard of the term facial peel, but what you are doing is not what the term means.”
Jungkook jumped at the interruption, and was greeted with a plop to the face from a fluffy white towel. His reflexes caught it right away, pressing it to his cheeks, embarrassed again. All he could muster out was a t-thanks, and then he started again as he felt her crouch and open the cabinet under the sink, accompanied by sounds of clunking.
“Here. Pick a toothbrush. Pink or purple?”
He yanked the towel off his face and saw himself in the mirror, his half-wet black hair sticking straight up, and then he looked down, startled and wide-eyed. She raised an eyebrow at him, down on one knee and prosing the choice of a light pink toothbrush in one hand and a lavender-colored one in the other.
She shrugged. “Sorry. Last ones in the multipack are these colors. I save the fun colors for guests so they can distinguish themselves.”
He glanced at the one in the holder and it had a black handle.
“Uh… I guess I’ll take the purple…”
He took it, careful not to made skin-to-skin contact.
She disappeared under the sink again.
“I have a travel toothpaste if–”
He jerked his head, his mouth full of suds.
“Or you can just use mine,” she said slowly, lowering her hand. She shoved the travel toothpaste back under the sink, presumably in its previous hiding place. “Not like we haven’t swapped spit before, I guess.”
He tried to apologize, but she stood up, waving it away.
“What do you want for breakfast?” she asked, taking her toothbrush and starting her own routine.
It felt…
Normal.
Shockingly, unbelievingly, scarily normal. Her and him, in close quarters, standing beside each other and sharing the mirror and the space. Similar to his small apartment back then. Similar to the tiny hotel rooms they sometimes visited when his previous roommate was there. These days Jungkook had a bigger apartment and lived alone. Just like her, it seemed. She had was a clean and modern bathroom, but he saw her touches all around it. The black cherry scented lotion. The large dark gray bath towel with a matching fluffy hair towel wrap hanging on a hook beside it. The black wire basket above the toilet held neatly stacked white rolls. They looked soft and plush.
Her toothbrush holder was matte black glass.
Sleek and elegant.
He leaned down and used his hands to cup some water, the used towel around his shoulders. Rinsed and spit, trying to be efficient. And not disgusting. He continued staring down at the sink bowl.
Unable to lift his head.
“You… You must be tired of me…” he mumbled, exhaling as evenly as he could, the mint flavor cooling his tongue and the inside of his mouth.
She answered slightly muffled.
But dead serious.
“You can stop pretending you are inconveniencing me and simply accept what I’m doing for you.”
Jungkook raised his head.
There was a brief heartbeat exchanged in the mirror. Seeing each other in reflection. Somehow it was more honest than being eye to eye. Well, of course, because he had been having trouble all morning making any real eye contact, but in that brief moment, in that second of time that felt like hours, in that gum bubble right before the jarring pop moment, she saw right through him. He let himself be seen, and it seemed as if she knew and accepted what his true feelings were, despite his fear of his wants being too ugly to admit. Knowing him better then he knew himself, just like how it always was.
Had been.
What?
She kept brushing her teeth absentmindedly, and then moved past him, picking up the other cup to rinse her own mouth and spit. He backed away, but not too far. Wiped his hands on the towel given to him. The unspoken intent lingered, do you still not understand what is happening here, and he did, but he was afraid to be wrong.
He was so very afraid.
And yet.
Her head was right there, soft hair and all.
His hand lifted.
She rose quickly and his hand retreated immediately. She was speaking and opening the mirror, revealing the hidden cabinet and an array of crammed skincare. All higher end brands, along with an onyx gua sha stone with its own stand, and a lip balm she plucked off the edge and applied.
“I have bread, eggs, cheese. Can make eggy toast topped with cheese and have kimchi on the side. Extra butter to make the bread crispier. You’ll like it.”
“I… wuh?”
-
You make the eggy toast and ate breakfast with Jungkook.
A big chunk of butter slapped into the hot pan. Then pan-toasting the bread on both sides until golden brown before pressing down the center of the bread slice with a ladle, creating a shallow bowl to drop an egg in. You had let the egg cook for a bit before sprinkling a little salt and white pepper, then added shredded cheese on top and covered the pan, giving it a few seconds to melt before removing the eggy bread from its warm home and onto a plate. Added some kimchi on the side for some prickled freshness and handed the meal to Jungkook, who had hovered around you the entire time, providing various oohs and aahs with your every action.
Your one-man hype squad.
It wasn’t the most Korean meal, but he had been drinking the night prior. A hangover meal of sorts.
You didn’t talk much.
You had already done enough. It was pretty obvious what was going on here. The real question was whether or not to let it happen. Still, you couldn’t let Jungkook cry himself to sleep in your arms the night before and not send him off with a full belly. Even if he never spoke to you again, it wouldn’t have sat right with you. It felt too heartless to straighten up and tell him to get out right after waking.
And, anyway.
You had missed him.
It made no sense. It wasn’t like you had deeply invested into those few months with him. You had been too caught up in your endless cycle of self-destruction to truly appreciate how much Jungkook liked you. It was obvious, of course. He followed you like a puppy and never wanted to leave your presence, but you had chalked it up to him being young and not knowing better. In fact, you had originally thought he was still chasing a fantasy up until last night, but no amount of your denial could explain away his words or those tears. He had grown up, at least enough to understand that reality and dreams weren’t one and the same. And yet he had clung onto those memories of you, even if he thought that the future he was heading towards was tasteless.
That took a certain kind of stubbornness.
Well, you must be stubborn to stay in love, no?
You paused mid-bite.
Jungkook was stuffing his face. You had made him two pieces. He had seemed very hungry. You spooned more kimchi onto his plate distractedly, your mind wandering. Devotion was stubbornness. Wavering was lack thereof. Stubbornness was often an act of selfishness and that was still true in love. It just depended on how one imposed that selfishness onto another.
You felt a tap on the back of your hand.
You started, blinking out of your thoughts.
He was staring.
“You didn’t finish eating,” Jungkook gulped, tilting his head. “Something wrong? I thought it was really tasty.”
This was coming from someone who would eat basically anything. Still, you took it as a compliment. Not because you needed to be complimented, no, because you saw his black-brown eyes sparkle when you half-smiled at his comment. Just for that. Just to give him the small happiness of knowing you valued his praise. You could be humble about the culinary skills you had acquired over the years simply so you didn’t look arrogant, but, then again, the result would be that Jungkook would feel as if his words weren’t worthwhile and that was not the truth.
Even if your mind wasn’t so sure, you still smiled for him.
No matter the result, you loved me back then, in the only way you know how. You taught me about your love, whether I believed in it or not. Very ox-like of you, Jeon Jungkook.
“Do you think we should go on a date?” you suddenly asked.
His big peepers popped open wide.
“A d-date?!”
-
“What should I wear?!”
“Nothing.”
Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung high-fived each other with a simultaneous maniacal giggle as Jungkook stood next to his open closet door with his eyebrow twitching. So much for having older friends giving their mature opinions.
“Very funny,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.
“Isn’t that how you get ‘em, JK?” Taehyung teased, grinning with all his teeth. Typically, Kim Taehyung gave off a mature, elegant vibe. He was the kind of handsome that could elevate any look with his strong features and cool demeanor. The deep baritone voice only added to his manliness. “Just rip off your shirt and bam!”
With close friends, though, Taehyung was an idiot.
“What if he walked into the restaurant and tore open his shirt?” Park Jimin snorted behind his small hand, trying to be polite but failing miserably with the nonsense coming out of his mouth. “Do you think his date would notice first or do you think he would get arrested first?” The epitome of cute and airy, Jimin was the type that ended up being social because he looked so approachable with his soft features and endearing eye smile. He always drew in a crowd with his genuine emotion behind his carefully considered words.
Which meant that Jimin was also the type to rub in the teasing until he really, really grated those nerves.
Sigh.
“You’re not helping, guys,” Jungkook growled, thumbing through his very monochrome closet. Black, white, gray, classic blue denim. Not much color. Shit, was he really this boring? Honestly, he ended up selecting basics mostly for the reducing decision fatigue when picking out an outfit for every day. It did not, however, help when he needed to impress.
Especially because Jungkook rarely wore or owned any formal wear.
Was a dress shirt too much? Too little? Not a good indication of the kind of man he was now? He didn’t want to portray like a better or false version of himself. But he had to look good. Fuck. This was way easier when his only goal was to get laid and not to have a relationship.
“You still haven’t told us who it is,” Taehyung piped up, still sitting on the end of Jungkook’s bed with Jimin. One would think the fashion model of the two would get up and start pulling things, but he didn’t budge.
“Yeah, we need deets,” Jimin chimed in. “We can’t suggest anything without context.”
Jungkook responded flatly. “It’s a girl.”
He could practically hear the eye roll in Jimin’s response. “Wow, what an underwhelming gender reveal. Next time bring those poppers with pink confetti while you’re at it.”
“Uh, well, do you know her personally or is this blind date status?” Taehyung asked, sounding confused.
“I know her.”
Jungkook knew precisely why Taehyung was confused, but didn’t address it. Jimin, however.
“Why are you being so cagey? By now you would have shown us a pic.”
Yeah, by now, he would have shown a face photo or even the dating profile. To be honest, Jimin was the most useful on pinpointing perfect outfits that screamed “fuck me now” even with only a few pics or a limited text exchange. He was some kind of wizard at that. Personal experience? Who knew. Taehyung ended up being emotional support and occasionally the voice of reason.
“Ugh, is it that stuck-up bitch from a couple months ago?” Taehyung suddenly stood up, coming up behind Jungkook. “I don’t like her.”
“I told you I didn’t even sleep with that one,” Jungkook mumbled, moving away as Taehyung thumbed through his jackets, took out a fitted light denim one, and put it on himself, modeling in the full-length mirror for who-the-hell-knows-what reason. Too casual, right?
“Good, because nobody liked her,” Jimin tutted.
Yet she did look similar to a clean someone.
Not as pretty, though, Jungkook knew.
Sometimes he had to take what he could get. Not that time, because they were both right. That woman’s personality was awful. Had been best to run right away. Jungkook frowned as Jimin stuck his hand out right in front of his face, waving it around.
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
“We need pics!”
Jungkook offered one detail. “She’s hot.”
“No shit?!” Jimin gasped sarcastically. He staggered back with a fluff of his bleach blond hair. “That’s so out of character for you!”
Jungkook glared and thought about biting him.
Did not.
For now.
“Ah!”
Jungkook froze. That was the type of exclamation Taehyung let out when he realized something important. The kind where Taehyung pointed upward and popped his fist into his open palm, about to say the very important thing and blow everyone’s minds.
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
He could sense Taehyung was facing him now. Jungkook couldn’t raise his head to look. His abrupt muteness was enough of answer. He felt Taehyung’s strong hand on his shoulder, but he continued to stare at his clothes as if they could magically answer in his stead, chewing on the left side of his lower lip nervously.
“Am I right, Jungkookie?” Taehyung asked again softly. “I thought you said she disappeared.”
It’s impossible to fall in love when I have always been in love with you.
There was a pang in his chest, sharp and intense.
“Guess… Guess nobody disappears forever,” he finally muttered.
Jimin jerked back, stunned. “Woah, wait, wait.”
Taehyung knew more than Jimin. Not really for any other reason than gut feeling. Somehow, after he had finished moping and feeling sorry for himself, Jungkook had felt that Taehyung would understand the intensity of it all. Taehyung had a grounded personality, but there was certain je ne sais quoi about the dark-haired man. Call it a hunch from the partial truths of described rendezvous in Paris and his occasionally off-the-cuff viewpoint on things. Taehyung had always been inseparable from Jimin ever since they met, so Jungkook had to tell the other male too, but back then Jimin was kind of a…
Well.
A slut.
Safe and consensual, but dude had been going through his hoe phase. He hadn’t been in a place to understand how profound those memories had been for Jungkook. Therefore, Jungkook had just said he really loved her despite the short timeline. Jimin had told him he was an idiot to believe that. Taehyung had whacked Jimin in the back of the head for that. He did apologize right away, but it wasn’t until years later that Jimin really comprehended the depth and apologized. By then, though.
It was all too late.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jimin worriedly chittered. “She broke your heart last time. Bad.”
Jungkook looked up.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Taehyung persisted. “Come on, don’t act like we haven’t noticed you have a type. You think Jimin and I are cross-eyed and blind? Not to mention you usually drop girls like hot potatoes with your weak-ass excuses.”
“Yeah, for instance, you randomly stopped seeing one girl because she liked sweets,” Jimin pointed out.
“She likes sweets,” Jungkook interrupted. “But only sour candy. She would always give me any chocolate she received.”
Taehyung rubbed his forehead, his tan skin glowing under the overhead lights. “Dude.”
“This is not good for you.” Jimin sighed, expression apprehensive. He resembled the skeptical emoticon with his rounder and more animated face. “Setting aside if she has become a better person or not… why now? And could she really be as great as you think she is or are you trying to make her live up to an impossible fantasy?”
“It just happened,” Jungkook snapped. “We ran into each other the other night.”
Jimin frowned. “A little fast, isn’t it?” He was slipping into his Busan satoori with his frustration. It often came out around at the same time Jungkook’s did since they were born in the same area.
“Did you at least talk to her for a long time?” Taehyung playing devil’s advocate in this case. He loved a swift romance, as unlikely as it could be. Red string of fate, soulmates, the works. “What was it like?”
Jungkook would never call himself a poet.
He simply answered exactly how he felt.
“It was like I was able to finally come home after a long journey,” he breathed out.
Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look. But Jungkook didn’t care anymore, lost in her smile, her touch, her smell, lost in that night. It didn’t make any sense, of course, because she was vibrant as she was calm, but that was how it was. Coming home. Like bursts of color back into his desaturated world. From the mundane to the extraordinary, even from something as basic as standing beside each other and brushing their teeth.
He had just liked knowing it was her.
“Did you guys sleep together?”
Jungkook gave Taehyung a side-eye. He got a shrug in response.
“No. We… went home.”
What?
Was he supposed to say, no, I ended up at her place and I cried myself to sleep in her arms? Hell no. Some things were meant to be secrets. Even Jungkook had good enough sense to leave well enough alone. Couple white lies here and there weren’t going to condemn him. Sex before marriage might, but, eh, in that case he had been damnned for long before now. Whoops.
“Uh huh,” Jimin mused. “Alright then. Let’s pick an outfit.”
“What about this?”
“Taehyung, you would wear that,” Jimin scolded, pulling out an olive-green bomber jacket.
“Aren’t sweater vests are outdated? I saw that on TikTok.”
“They’re not outdated!” Taehyung scolded Jungkook, putting back the black sweater vest with white trim. “Also, real life is not TikTok, dork. I was thinking without an inner shirt, anyway. Show off the arms.”
Jimin hummed, considering. “Something lighter. Do you have something similar in cream? Or beige? Plus some medium wash blue jeans and a studded belt. She was kinda edgy, I remember.”
“Uh, lemme look…”
“Beanie?”
“Yo, the hat hair?” The Busan dialect was coming out again due to Jimin’s agitation.
“He looks cute in them!”
“We’re not serving egg even if he is over easy.”
It took a moment for Jungkook to register the scalding degree of that burn.
“Hey!”
-
“What should I wear?”
“Clothes?”
You turned around to see Kang Hyungu with his raised hands and a clueless expression. “Normal people wear clothes to a date,” he reasonably stated.
You answered dryly.
“Very funny.”
You were not amused. The cerulean-haired guitarist struggled and turned away from the video call, rummaging around in his kitchen and making a lot of noise. From this angle you could peek the bottom of his dark purple undercut and his cutesy Pingu t-shirt. Hyungu was a very manly looking guy, but he never hesitated to wear graphics that he found adorable. Too secure not to.
“You didn’t order take-out again, did you?”
He made a noise that was neither affirmative or negative, which meant he definitely did. “I’m not in the mood to cook.” The word cook was being used generously here.
“Which means you made melodies all day, huh?” you interjected.
Hyungu stuck his big eyes and handsome (yet generally expressionless) face back onto the screen. “It’s such a burden to be so talented and hardworking, but someone has to do it.”
You ignored his plight. “Should I wear a dress?” you asked, pawing through your hanging articles of clothing.
“Duh.”
You frowned and looked over the dresses one by one. None of them felt right though. The date was a meal and then who knows. There was a variety of shops around the area, so it might be fun to look around and talk, perhaps. Tight dresses out, probably. You weren’t about to freeze your ass off for the vibes.
“Maybe I should wear pants?” you wondered out loud.
“Nah, noona. You look way better in dresses.”
Despite not having much expression around strangers, Hyungu had strong opinions when asked. In fact, he was so quiet that he often faded into the background before chiming in at the most random of times. He was one year younger than Jungkook. Upon first glance, he looked older, but anyone who knew Hyungu personally was subject to his seriously unserious nature.
“Who’s the guy?”
“Somebody I used to know,” you replied absentmindedly, pulling out a high-waisted black skirt with silver hardware and pleather suspenders. Hm.
You heard the frown in his voice. “Someone I know?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t like him.”
“You don’t like anybody I go on dates with,” you shot back, pulling out a white ruffled shirt and a black velvet one. The skirt was designed to sit right under the bust so some type of undershirt was a must. The white seemed too contrasting. You could unbutton a few buttons of the black velvet dress shirt, or maybe go for a fitted red-and-black striped top to make it more casual. Maybe more casual was the move. The sushi restaurant wasn’t upscale. But, also, you didn’t care about being overdressed. A loose t-shirt might be a cool vibe too. Choices.
“They like you for the wrong reasons,” Hyungu scolded, ramming noodles into his mouth.
“Who cares?”
Nah, black velvet shirt it was. More comfortable and the mixing of textures made for a good monotone outfit. Plain black knit thigh-high socks were a no-brainer too. Plus, then you could wear black boots which was better for the colder weather.
“I do! They’re lame and disrespectful.”
You hunted for your sterling silver guitar pick necklace. “I keep telling you that I’m not looking for a relationship with them.”
“Well, you should look for a relationship with someone.”
You upturned your lips and raised an eyebrow at the screen of your phone propped up against your perfumes. Hyungu’s face still hadn’t changed much from his baseline neutral, other than one cheek bouncing up and down with each chew. At least he had the decency to keep his mouth shut. “This again?”
“You deserve to be happy, noona.”
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You paused.
Then you rolled your eyes. “Some guy isn’t gonna make me happy.”
“The guy will make you happy.” And then Hyungu shoveled some rice in his mouth. He was a man of equality. All carbs were his friends.
You let out a silent, heavy exhale. “You’re so sure about that.”
“Yeah, I am,” he continued with a munch. “Even if you’re delusional about it.”
You puffed one cheek. “I’m not delusional about anything. I’m very rational.”
“I might have been drunk but I wasn’t blind, noona.”
You froze.
“I’ve never seen you act that way around a guy, ever.”
You tapped your fingertips against your dresser drawer, out of his field of view. The long seconds ticked by. Fuck it. “What do you think of him?” you questioned.
Hyungu made a scrunched face as he fought with the lid of a container that seemed to contain cucumber salad. His mother must have made it for him. “What was his name again?”
“Jeon Jungkook.”
“Oh. Yeah, he was with the group that was friends of the band, right?”
“Yeah.”
He paused, twisting his lips to one side. “Mmm, can’t really remember that well. It was kind of noisy and you know how it is for me when there’s a bigger group and I’m not super close with anyone there.”
Your shoulders slumped. “I thought you said you were fine.”
He waved a hand, debating for a moment before simply eating out of the container. “Gotta keep trying to get used to it. Anyway, I was more focused on getting along with the band since we have five more shows. But he did help us in getting home. He must not be a bad guy.” He looked up at you. In some ways, Hyungu was the most honest when he was playing guitar. People not close to him found him hard to read.
He was no mystery to you, though.
“Can’t you tell that he really likes you?”
You broke his gaze, almost guiltily.
“No one is supposed to like me. I’m scary on purpose.”
Hyungu laughed.
“You’re never been scary, noona.”
In the silence that followed, you and Hyungu had a silent conversation in words unsaid. You didn’t look towards the screen, preferring instead to turn around and look through your jackets, pretending to search for something. You had been told before that you were unapproachable. That was by choice. You didn’t need nosy loons talking about shit that they didn’t know about. Thankfully, Hyungu had never done that. He simply told you what was what. Again, he was highly observant and, apparently, he had paid attention to Jungkook’s obvious signals.
“I don’t know the history between you two, but you would be crazy not to go for someone who looks at you like that, noona.”
You turned around halfway, cocking your head. “Have you ever known me not to be crazy?”
He shot you one of those looks of his. The fed-up-with-your-shit look. “Then you would be stupid. And I know you’re not stupid,” he warned, as if it was a threat. “Wear your long black fur coat. My mom is calling. Have fun.”
And then you saw him reach over and end the video call.
You stared at the phone screen as it faded to black.
Then you scoffed, shaking your head.
“No need to be so weird about it, sheesh…”
-
“Uh, before I forget, I meant to tell you that you look really nice today, noona.”
She stepped out of the restaurant and gave him an amused smile. “After the meal?”
“S-Sorry!”
Jungkook knew Jimin and Taehyung would call him an idiot. Taehyung had told him repeatedly to remember to compliment her and stuff like that, but they had gotten so caught up with catching up on each other’s lives after their parting that Jungkook had forgotten. He had told her about his video editing job at a music company and how he was working more towards production and directing. She had told him about how she worked to live, but her day-to-day job turned out to be a book editor with occasional other side projects. Somehow, strangely similar types of careers. Jungkook had told her about his friends and their antics. How he realized he was losing opportunities to make memories by staying in so he was trying to go out more to treasure those people. She had told him about how she never grew out of her gaming habit and how, with money, it had gotten worse. And how the rest of her free time and cash was spent on going to festivals and events to support Hyungu and his band, but it turned out she really loved discovering indie music as much as the next pop hit.
It was as if they were…
Friends.
It had been so easy, so simple despite his initial awkwardness. He had thought, for a moment, that she regretted asking him, but as soon as they sat down, she gently prodded him with conversation. The restaurant atmosphere left them alone together out in public. It was surprising because he remembered, back then at the PC bang, she had been prickly and reluctant to engage in human interaction. Now, she was confident and involved in their conversation. He saw flashes of her old, closed-off self when she paused before telling him something about herself.
But then she seemed to brush it aside and spoke calmly.
Is it because of me?
He didn’t know. It was clear, however, that things had changed.
She had become more whole and, in turn, more beautiful.
“Thanks, though,” she said with a laugh, buttoning her long black fur coat. Jungkook was a bit said about that because the all-black skirt and velvet shirt combo with the guitar pick silver necklace was so cool. Still, it was a frigid night, so he understood.
“I really did mean to tell you right away,” he insisted. They had chosen to walk around a bit to walk off the Japanese food they had just enjoyed. He was jam-packed with sushi.
“Your stunned face tipped me off enough. And the literal five seconds of silence and constant staring when I sat down.”
He felt his cheeks heat. “O… Oh.”
“I like how you look today too.”
She smiled at him.
Jungkook nearly stumbled. “T-Thanks! Although… I actually had a little help,” he admitted, sticking his hands in the pockets of his olive-green bomber jacket again. He had almost tripped only because his black combat boots had a platform. That was all. Yeah. Not because he dearly loved her smiling at him or anything.
“Well, they have a good eye, so I appreciate them.”
He tried not to roll his eyes. “They would love to hear that.” But he wasn’t going to tell them. Nope.
“Hey.”
He stopped as she paused on the sidewalk. Turned around and she was looking down the street before back at him. A moment of hesitation.
Then.
She held out her hand.
Jungkook stared at it with wide eyes, his jaw dropping.
Her expression was between sheepish and amused, the corner of her lips ticking upwards. “This is a date, right? Let’s try it. Holding hands.”
He didn’t know how to feel. It wasn’t as if he was foreign to public displays of affection, but back then he had always been the one to initiate. It had seemed that she tolerated it and he had continued to do it, blind to the inequality of affection. She had only initiated sexual activity, about as often as he did. But something like this? It was only now that he realized how much he had wished she had, even if only in private.
To others, it would seem odd that such a small action of affection would hold much significance.
He reached out.
Fingertips hovering over her palm.
He raised his head and Jungkook looked right at her, blinking hard, wondering if he was dreaming.
“Is it… Is it really okay?”
Her small smile shone in her eyes.
“Unless you have sweaty hands?” she lightly joked.
He felt his cheeks flush hotly. The innocent comment suddenly reminded him. “Oh, uh… k-kinda, actually… w-well, they might g-get clammy ‘cause they get that way when I’m nervous, um…”
She let out a chuckle and dropped her hand.
“Okay.”
Before he could blurt out a hasty, w-wait, she stepped forward and hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow, resting her fingers on his right forearm, so close now that he could smell her warm, comforting perfume.
“How about this?”
She tugged him forward with their linked arms. He looked down at her, startled, but now there was mischievous glint in those mysterious orbs shadowed by lashes. His skin prickled from the closeness, even underneath all the layers. Legs moving forward even if his brain hadn’t caught up.
“You thought I didn’t remember that you like skinship?”
“I… I thought…” He swallowed, trying to clear his throat and the fluttering of butterflies that had shot up from his stomach and into his throat. “I thought you hated it.”
She shrugged. “Normally I do. But I want you to be my exception.”
It was a good thing walking was a muscle memory action because Jungkook was pretty sure he was in a different daydream dimension at her response. Er, nightdream? Whatever. He couldn’t fuck this up. Well, the crying on the couch was always a point against him, probably. He winced at the cringey memory.
“Noona, um.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry about the other night to your place.”
“You mean when you sobbed and became a puddle on my sofa.”
Ouch. “Y-Yeah…”
“I can’t say I expected it. It’s all good though. I’ve fallen asleep on that couch countless times.”
It’s impossible to fall in love when I have always been in love with you. At the time, he had been too emotional to gauge her response to everything he said. Maybe this was all a pity ploy to his extreme reaction. He didn’t want to believe that, but his mind was restless at the thought.
He needed to know.
“I meant it though. Everything I said.”
“I never took you for a liar,” she answered, holding onto him as they walked in step, their bodies lit up by the various colored lights each shop used to entice customers to enter.
He had to inhale deeply before asking. “I should have asked you how you felt though, before running my mouth like that.”
There was sound all around them. Noisy cars. Music from inside the stores and blasting dully from vehicles. Chatter from people all around them, on phones or huddled together. The echoes of steps blending together into an endless nighttime march. The occasional laugh or dinging of a bell when someone left a store. People who passed them glanced quickly before looking away.
It was conceited, but Jungkook enjoyed seeing their flashes of envy, even if all strangers could see was their outward appearance.
None of them knew the whirlwind between these bodies.
“I am the kind of person that always believed the past is in the past,” she finally said, holding onto him tighter. He tried not to stiffen when he realized the back of his upper arm was right by the side of her clothed breasts. “It took me a while to accept that I can’t do anything about the past or how it affected me. Likewise, I don’t really believe in reconnecting with people. Drifting apart is natural. Not negative or positive, per se. Just happens. I always believed it happens for a reason.”
Oh.
He bit the left side of his lower lip. She continued.
“You asked me back then, aren’t you afraid that I’ll forget you? I answered a bit cheekily, I remember, but your question stuck with me. Nobody has ever asked me that, you know? In fact, I am used to being forgotten.”
There was something about her voice.
The quality of it had gotten mistier. Introspective. And hurt. It was not directed at him, but it was there despite an obvious attempt on hiding it. He felt her grasp onto him tighter, although maybe it was less about the physical aspect and rather to the things he had said.
“I had become so used to it, in fact, that I thought your question was ridiculous. Forget me? Of course, you will. It would be better if you do. We all need to move on from our past and not cling to a memory holding us back.” She let out a mirthless laugh, but softened, leaning her head against his shoulder. If the current topic wasn’t so serious, Jungkook would have been over the moon. His heart beat fast regardless. “But you didn’t forget me. Even after all this time. I thought it was just because you wanted your dick blown.”
To be fair, that was a reason on the list.
Lower priority, but there.
Jungkook, once again, shut his mouth and left well enough alone.
She let out a breath.
It quivered in the cold, crisp night air and disappeared.
“I use reason and logic in my everyday life to interact with others. To maintain relationships. But love? Love is something that has no reason. I don’t know how I feel towards the idea. I would not say the emotion is afraid, but it is not a positive one either. The idea of love constantly reminds me that it is something I lack. That something so basic was supposed to be mine, but I was denied it throughout my childhood without knowing it.”
She stopped.
Jungkook turned and saw she was gazing up at the moon. There were no stars visible from the city, but everyone knew they were up there.
“Did you notice I don’t talk about my parents?” she asked softly.
He did. “Yeah.”
Her tone seemed apologetic. “Is it selfish to expect some kind of affection from those who birthed you? Or even only a simple co-habitation relationship? Anything other than nothing?”
Well, shit. “I don’t think so.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I almost wished they had given me away. Or hated me. Something. Anything.”
Jungkook didn’t know what to say.
Firstly, because he was not good at comforting anyone. Not even himself. He was simply sulky until he kinda got over it. Granted, much of it was first-world problems. He could always go running to his parents for advice or solutions if he couldn’t think of any. Or his friends. But deeply personal stuff he kept to himself. It felt almost a burden to say something, so on some level he could understand the importance of what she was saying. Why it was significant that she felt the need to tell him. He could feel it and he was grateful she was willing to express it to him.
“I don’t want you to experience a fraction of what I did. I don’t even know how deeply those moments are embedded in me,” she sighed, loosening her grip on him. “I see those moments reflected in my instincts. The scars of my past stick to the soles of my shoes no matter where I step. I don’t know how much of it is my true feelings or something that is simply fundamentally wrong with me.”
He remembered something.
“But you said you want to learn love,” he said quietly.
They stayed beside each other, warmth whirling with warmth even when surrounded by cold, crisp air.
“I did say that, yeah.”
Then all those littler things. The things she said and the way she said them. The offer.
“I don’t really understand love either,” Jungkook admitted.
She chuckled. “Yeah, I got that from your chaotic reentry back into my life.”
Their arms were still entangled. Although she was the one holding onto him, Jungkook was the one who brought his arm closer to his body, pinning her forearm to him. She accepted it, not moving away. His body sung at the contact but his thoughts trembled.
He whispered to the moon and the darkness above them.
“I’m scared that one day you won’t want me to be in your life anymore. Again.”
He couldn’t look at her. He was not about to bawl in public, for fuck’s sake.
“Don’t let this end.”
I have always been in love with you.
No person could fill that void. He tried, countless times. Jungkook knew it was impossible, stupid, pathetic, crazy, all the conclusions. But it was not crazy to know that he would never be the same. Even so, he could have lived a satisfactory life. A fun one, even. It was not fair to chase those that didn’t want to be found, so he hadn’t. If it was all for the best, then it was for the best.
But she came back to him.
His peppermint gum love.
“I’ll be stuck to you, you know.”
He turned his head and found her looking back at him. His pit-a-pat heartbeat, following the pop of each bubble, sharp and exciting, and he savored it. The seconds, the moments, the memories, all swirling into one. Everything. Everything, bright and intense and reminding him how it was like to live life.
Jungkook grinned.
“Okay.”
She smiled and raised herself.
And kissed him.
It was as if his fractured, desaturated world fell into place all at once and color burst forth.
Her soft scent pressed up against him, persistent, clinging, and he drowned in it, leaning into her lips, the softness and honesty together. Her fingers wrapped around his forearm to steady herself, their bodies now closer together, one of her legs between his. She had stepped forward to turn and make the distance. He held her, his left arm around her waist, and he wondered how it got there. A reflexive reaction, apparently.
She broke apart, her lingering exhale warming his lips.
He frowned slightly, opening his eyes.
“Heh. That’s it for now. We shouldn’t be so forward in public, after all,” she pointed out with a smirk.
Jungkook narrowed his eyes. Put on his best, most convincing pout. “Who cares?”
She was laughing, shaking her head at him. “I do. You want to start this off with an arrest for public indecency? That’s a bang for sure.” She pulled on his arm, indicating them towards the sidewalk again.
“Hmph, fine, but one more kiss.”
And he yanked her back, pressing his lips to hers again, and if this was impossible, stupid, pathetic, crazy, if he really was a fool, then he was one forever, smiling into her smile, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks, his arms around her waist, the unfaded memories and the engraved present finally meeting.
This is love.
He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t have to understand for his body to know it was real.
She leaned forward, past his nose and to his ear.
“You like kisses, huh?”
It was then that Jungkook realized his body did, in fact, know something.
“Um… This has never happened before,” he mumbled, his cheeks burning.
She held tightly onto the collar of his jacket, her hair against his chin. Half of it was pulled back with a black claw clip. It gave an elegant yet casual look while also keeping him from hiding his blushing face from bystanders.
Just his luck.
“Maybe you didn’t remember, but you also would get instantly hard whenever I kissed you back then too,” she teased, her warm breath grazing his ear. She was making it worse. Shit. Jungkook tried to bite the inside of his cheek. Her thigh was pressed between his legs so there wasn’t much hiding of anything.
“Noona, please shut up.”
“Although maybe not with such innocent kisses.”
“Noona, please…”
-
You danced your fingers up his chest.
Each point of contact going from fingertip to fingernail. Bated breath. Strangeness and familiarity all at once, sitting on your bed with only the orb-shaped lamp on, cool blue artificial moonlight looking down upon the magic unfolding in this room. His hand raised and closed in around yours.
You looked up as warmth encircled your touch.
Jungkook smiled nervously.
“Does it feel weird?” you asked him.
“A… A little bit,” he whispered. There was no reason to. Pointless, really, because you could hear the neighbor downstairs having some sort of wild party. Your apartment was silent. “Mostly because I used to think about it a lot.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You think you’ll stop thinking about sex after I give it to you? Maybe I shouldn’t, then.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
He puffed his cheeks in exasperation. He grabbed your hand tighter, whining your name without the honorific, and you were suddenly transported to the past. Breathless nights, falling into a melody of bodies, and you pressed your knuckles against his chest, making Jungkook yelp and nearly fall over, catching himself with his hands before freezing up as you hovered over him, crossing your arm over his front and planting your palm on the bed under his armpit. He was raised to his elbows, looking up at you with those wide, dark brown eyes. Pink lips parted, the two silver rings gleaming at the right edge of his lower lip and that familiar mole underneath punctuating every surprise and every smile.
What was that phrase?
Live fast.
It had always been like that, though.
Die young.
Would you ever really age if you were always in the perpetual state of learning to love Jeon Jungkook?
You lowered your head and kissed him.
You were well aware that this was probably too much all at once and yet there was also so much time lost from the journey apart. Maybe necessary. But bad decisions could have good consequences. A kiss for the mole under his lips first, for old time’s sake. Then his waiting mouth. You tilted your head and kissed him deeper this time, shivering at his familiar clean scent. Your other hand rose and ghosted his jaw, sliding your tongue into his mouth as he moaned. Fingers sliding into his soft hair, slowly thrusting your tongue in and out before he caught it with his teeth and gently sucked on it, running one hand over your waist, pressing his fingers into your side.
You backed off a little and flicked your tongue along his lower lip, exhaling into his mouth.
“Remember you used to be a freak?”
His jacket was hanging on your desk chair but he was still in his beige knit vest top.
His brows furrowed.
“I’m not a freak,” he insisted.
You curled your grip into his scalp and tugged. His head tipped back and his eyes slipped closed, shuddering, a mute whine in his throat, his own hold on your waist tightening, blocked by layers of your skirt and tucked-in shirt. You pulled harder and his lashes fluttered, his chin lifting and exposing his throat to your lips. Light kisses, barely there. You were pretty sure the words coming out of his mouth were a lie because his body was telling you the complete opposite.
He hadn’t changed that much in that respect.
Heh.
You ran the tip of your tongue from between his collarbones, up his trembling neck, stopping at his chin to push his head back down and claim his gasping mouth with a fierce kiss.
There was no hesitation now.
You had been worried that somehow maybe your bodies wouldn’t click. Maybe you wouldn’t feel the same level of exhilaration or enjoyment. And it wasn’t the same. Not at all. No, as you leaned in more, trying to force him to yield, and he refused, pulling your hand down from his hair and sliding it under the hem of his top, making you touch him instead, trapping you in the lip-lock, no, this was refined hunger meeting a refined flavor, and you dug your nails into his flexed abs, causing him to break the kiss and throw his head back, moaning to your ceiling.
You lifted your chin as he pushed your hand up higher.
Looked down at him as you sunk your nails into his flesh and dragged down, watching his expression flicker between pain and pleasure, his eyes turning glassy with lust, looking right back at you. Unashamed.
He tugged your hand back up again, between his tense pecs.
Your breathing shallowed.
You scratched him again, so hard that it left irritated pink lines onto his skin.
Jungkook whimpered, his black hair messy and fallen over his forehead.
I wanted everything about you.
You pulled back and seized the bottom of his top, dragging it up and over his head with his help, falling into his arms as he sat up, smacking your palms into his broad back. Taking that part of him too, irritated red lines all over, and kisses over his jaw, his naked chest against your clothed chest, his own hands clutching fistfuls of your velvet shirt, chasing after your lips.
I still do.
Your skirt had a silver zipper straight down the front center. You felt him grip the pull and check if it was working one. Smiled as he gasped, realizing it was. It even detached at the hem so all you had to do was shrug out of the suspenders. It fell to the floor with the heavy clink of metal from the clasps.
You swung a leg over him and straddled his lap.
Him shirtless, his torso covered in your violent marks.
Your hips colliding into the front of his jeans.
He groaned in your face.
“F-Fuuuuck…”
You gripped his studded belt with one hand and grinded against him. The first few buttons of your shirt were open and the slick backside of the velvet fabric caused the collar to slide off one of your shoulders, exposing your collarbone. His hands cupped your ass, sinking into the curve, and you ducked down to kiss him again, again, grabbing onto his bare shoulder for support.
His breathing hitched as your hand came close to his neck.
The impulse.
Hot and hard.
You positioned your hand around his neck and squeezed the arteries, choking him.
The sensation of power, the taste of his whine, his larger frame trembling under you, and Jungkook pressed your clothed heat into his trapped erection and succumbed to the ravenous nature of your kiss. It was the same and it was different. Layers of passion on passion. Intense and sending shivers from you to him. Back then, he was driven by inexperience. There was arousal in his fumbling and frustration, but none now when he reached for the buttons, flicking then apart with ease even as you choked him and gripped his belt. Your body faintly exposed under the folds of the lush fabric, but you didn’t drop it, instead catching his lower lip with your teeth and sucking on it tightly.
Letting him go with a pop.
His eyes rolled back, that underlip mole quivering in anticipation.
Pause.
You pulled him towards you by his neck as his vision reoriented. Hazy and lust-drunk, but unequivocally trained on you, his grip digging into your thighs. Seconds filled with rattling breaths, pushing him to the edge, and the impulse rose again. Something you used to tell him. You hadn’t really meant it back then. It was a display of fantasy then. For show. For the mood.
But things were different now.
“You will always be mine,” you growled millimeters from Jungkook’s thin breath.
His half-lidded eyes shimmered. He couldn’t respond, too lost in the headiness of lost air. But his body knew. The body has its own language and his agreed.
The corners of his open mouth lifted.
You let go of his neck and grasped handfuls of his hair, yanking his head back, his wanton moan pitching and falling, almost going limp in your hold as oxygen flooded back into his brain. You licked up his hot throat, closing your eyes, savoring the vibration of his cries and the desperate way he pinned your lower body to his, begging for release but too incoherent from the burst of overwhelming sensations to make them audible.
“And I will try to be everything you need until I run out of time,” you murmured to his raging pulse under your lips.
Maybe you would always struggle to define the word love.
Maybe you would never know.
But you didn’t need to know to listen to what your body wanted.
I don’t need to know love to be sure of loving you.
Your velvet shirt fell to the floor. You slid down between his legs. Worked together to undo his belt, glancing up at him and seeing your red marks on his chest. The rise and fall of his pants. Higher. Seeing him watching you as you pushed down his jeans. Closing in. Tracing the edge of your teeth with your tongue as you palmed him over his boxer briefs, cocking an eyebrow at his soft cry that he turned into a hiss under your direct attention.
“Embarrassed?” you taunted.
Jungkook bit the side of his lip. “No.”
You hooked your pinky finger over the waistband of those Calvin Klein’s.
“You sure?”
Desperation crawling into his gaze as your thumb rubbed against the hard shaft. Several seconds of stroking and you stretched out the waistband, rubbing a slow circle, molding the fabric to the swollen head of his cock, smiling as his cut v-line underneath was revealed.
“P-Please…” he gasped above you.
Took your time to make eye contact again. You cocked your head to his crotch.
“Go on. Take it off then.”
His erection popped out. Dark red, rock-hard, begging for your mouth.
Unfortunately, Jungkook knew how you operated.
Flashes of the past and present. Heavy nights. Early mornings. Cold rooms with warm bodies. Your hands on his knees, spreading them apart and leaning in. Lips working the inside of his thighs. Kisses. Bites. Sucking. Rushing as much as moving slowly, breathing hotly onto his cock and watching it twitch at the heat. A flicker of your gaze and the needy anticipation written all over his face. The same wide-eyed stare from back then and, now, accented by piercings and tattoos running up his right arms, his muscles tense and rippling from trying to stay still under your unspoken control.
Your lips closed in around his girth and you shoved him down to the depths of your throat.
“A-Ah, fuuuuuuuck…”
It was a familiar stretch of your muscles. He was at his hardest, giving you the freedom to glide up and down with little resistance, positioning your head at the correct angle to receive him as deep as possible. You pressed your lips inward as you rose to the tip, curving your tongue around. Up and over. Coating him with saliva and stimulating that thin skin, increasing the sensitivity with the attracting nature of water to water made more powerful by the rubbing of your tongue, sinking your nails into the insides of his thighs. Piling on sensation after sensation. Crisp with pain. Intense from pleasure. Tighter, licking all over, sliding him against the ridges of the roof of your mouth.
Jungkook panted your name, the syllables slipping into moans, losing himself to the wet bliss.
You almost didn’t catch the fleeting words his gasp.
“Yeah… it’s… s-supposed to feel l-like this…”
His hips tensed under you but you kept him down with the base of your palms, leaving him at the mercy of your pace. The familiar tingling at the back of your head, keeping the angle perfect and the depth steady, and he was right, yes, this was how it was supposed to feel – the blinding rush of adrenaline, desire, and connection all swirling into one indiscernible emotion. The kind of heat that was beyond raw passion, closer, the kind of satisfaction that was pleasure on many different levels, so close, the kind of sex that people could only dream about.
There.
A torn moan and Jungkook’s hips bucked into your face, sliding down your throat and spilling his thick, salty orgasm into the tight pocket. You locked your shoulders and stopped moving, feeling his cock shudder and throb. His cum oozing upward, and you swallowed, chest tight. He cried out above you but you held him down and swallowed again, inhaling much needed air, his strong taste coating your tongue, tactile and delicious.
Truly.
Delicious.
You had almost forgotten how attracted you had been to his pheromones, but clearly your drenched panties hadn’t. You could even smell yourself from here. Also, your knees were killing you. Guess those years had an affect on your body after all, even if your brain had been subconsciously stuck on Jeon Jungkook.
The body always remembers.
To think you had said that just to be a smartass but Jungkook had unintentionally taken it seriously and it had turned out to be true all along.
A happy little accident.
You crawled up his body and he greeted you with kiss after fervent kiss. Somehow, he didn’t seem to mind that you had only just swallowed his cum. Then again, Jungkook would never beat the freak allegations. You were the only one making those allegations but, hey, you did know him best, even if neither you nor him knew that.
He unhooked your bra.
You slipped out of it, letting the black lace cups flop into the pile of his jeans, belt, and underwear on the floor. You were straddling his lap, knees on the bed, and he pulled you in deeper, giving you a moment to adjust. Stared into your eyes fiercely, the captured universes in those dark brown orbs glimmering with determination.
“Don’t look away,” he ordered. Not very sternly, but you smiled all the same, your arm around his shoulders, bare breasts and hard nipples right under his chin. Jungkook couldn’t intimidate you for shit. It was the big peepers, probably.
“Sure.”
He narrowed his eyes.
A stare down. Seconds saturated with anticipation. He raised his right hand, the two center fingers grouped together and the rest splayed out. Your smirk widened. Closer to you. Before he could say the words, open your mouth, your lips parted and you leaned in, swirling your tongue around his fingers, shifting your line of sight to admire the tattoos down his arm.
Jungkook sucked in a breath, stifling his awed moan.
Your eyes flickered back up to his face and you sucked on his fingers, directly looking at him. Even tilting your head and curving his fingertips down your throat, manipulating his movement with your tongue and your inner muscles. He shuddered, speechless at the arousing nature of this obscenity. You held yourself steady by splaying your fingers over his shoulder blades, letting him slowly thrust in and out of your mouth, the glossiness of your spit catching the low light.
“F-Fuck…” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so sexy.”
You let your self-satisfied agreement show in the lowering of your lashes.
He grinned, noticing it right away, his expression pleased and frustrated all at once. Enjoyed the show for a few more moments and then pulled out. You held on until the very last second, releasing him with a wet, lewd pop. Loud in the silence of labored breathing and intense eye contact. His other hand at your waist nudged your ass. You lifted yourself up. His right hand slid between your legs, his two wet fingers grazing the edge of your dampened panties.
“You smell so damn good,” he murmured, looking down to bear witness. “I want it smeared all over me.”
“I told you you’re a freak.”
“Yeah, I am.”
You would have rolled your eyes at his now confession if it wasn’t for him hooking the edge of your panties and bunching them to the side while at the same time closing the distance between your chest and mouth, and suddenly you were clutching his head with both hands, gasping, tangling your fingers in his hair as he sucked on your nipple and sunk his two fingers into your wet pussy.
Jungkook wouldn’t give it to you if he thought you couldn’t take it.
Your back arched reflexively, thrusting your chest into his face, and your hips rolled, thrusting his two wetted fingers into you. He got the hint, following your body rhythm, deep and rough, making the visceral pleasure spiral in your tightened core. Of course, you had sex after Jungkook. Shitty sex, subpar sex, better than average sex, mind-numbing sex. But it had always come at the price of your own expertise. It was never about how well they matched you, because they never did. They never had the time to. But not Jungkook.
His body remembered.
Your breathing deepened and he increased the pace, the fervor, switching sides of your chest and catching your hard nipple between his teeth. Pressing his tongue tip into it, rubbing forcefully and then sucking. Lips and then tongue, back and forth, thrusting up into you, and you gave in, locking your hips to take the wanted abuse, letting the rising orgasm take command. Blood roaring in your veins, heartbeat at your throat, hard, fast, intense, your tense thighs trembling, tipping your head back.
Closing your eyes.
Moaning his name.
You pulled on his hair, hard.
Jungkook whined under you but he didn’t let go. Mouth too busy to speak. The declaration tumbled out of your open mouth.
“Close… fuck, I’m gonna cum…”
The constricted strain in your chest burst, and you threw you head back and sighed, low and wanton, prickling nerves racing up and across your back. Your inner walls pulsating. The heavy, sweet scent of your climax hit you first, soaking Jungkook’s hand, sticking to the insides of your thighs, and then uncontrollable shivers overtook your hips, gasping as his mouth left your chest, the abrupt loss of heat leaving your nipple cold. He moaned with you, his fingers buried into your spasming pussy, enjoying every second of feeling your orgasm, his thumb closing in to press down on your throbbing, slick clit.
You sucked in a sharp inhale.
He held it there, only adding pressure to the hyper sensitive nerves, letting your ride out your orgasm with your hands still gripping his head. You could feel the afterglow flutter in your lungs. Slow and deep shaking breaths.
Damn.
“You’re still the best at fingering me,” you gasped.
You lowered your head and he chuckled faintly. Mischief sparkling in his dark brown eyes under messy black strands. “Good.” Sounded and looked very proud of himself.
Fuck, you waned to kiss him so bad.
So you did.
Again and again.
With Jungkook, it was easy. With Jungkook, there was never a question. You had just questioned it because you had thought it was the right thing to do. He had questioned it because he had been afraid. You hadn’t understood it and neither had he. Nobody did. But that didn’t matter, because as naturally as the wind blew, so did you and Jungkook tumble to the bed, him licking off your juices on his fingers and groaning, savoring your flavor. Hands all over each other, recalling all his erogenous zones and listening to his sounds again, your heartbeat racing at the pitch in his deep tone, the desperation in the call of your name.
You felt him cup your pussy and smear your juices all over his palm.
Glanced down and saw him grip his half-hard cock with his now-wet hand, moaning into your ear, heating your skin with his need.
You tilted your head more.
His lips found the pocket right under your earlobe.
You sat down on his raised thigh and rubbed yourself against his flexed muscle as he jacked himself off, sparks flying throughout your body, from his mouth attached to your skin and the hardness between your legs, watching him pleasure himself below you. The wet and slick quality of your previous orgasm increased the friction, and you tilted your hips forward a little more, angling the pressure to your clit, fuck, grasping the pillow under Jungkook’s head so tight that you felt your knuckles strain. Intense made more intense by his teeth. His tongue. His lips. Dancing around your ear, catching the curve, biting down, his lustful groan muffled in his throat.
Closer.
You knew.
He knew.
Jungkook snapped back and ground his teeth, whining in his chest, gripping his cock covered in your cum and his pre-cum beading at the purple-red tip. You also froze, clenching your jaw as the climb to release was cut off, sending your body into an intense array of emotions. Want. Greed. Voraciousness. The edging radiated throughout your veins, primal need pleading you to keep going, but every second wasted was another layer, threatening to amplify the next orgasm.
Which was exactly what you and Jungkook wanted.
He didn’t have to ask you what your favorite position was. He liked them all, of course, for different reasons. Doggy for the view. One leg against his chest for something to hold onto while having some room to move. Regular missionary to hold your face and kiss you in between thrusts.
But.
The condoms were on your bedside table. It took him no time at all to rip one open and roll in down, groaning at the sight of you lifting your legs up to your chest, spreading your wet pussy and tight ass for him to see. His voice was low and hoarse from exertion, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind, scooting himself forward to pin your thighs down with his chest, positioning himself right in front of your entrance.
“I fucking love that view,” he heatedly breathed out.
You grinned. “I know.”
Slowly.
Jungkook folded you in half, trapping your body between his chest and mattress and sank into you, locking eyes at the same time.
His favorite position was one and the same with yours.
“Ugh, you feel so fucking good,” he swore, stopping when he was buried balls deep, his cock twitching inside you. You appreciated it.
“Take it slow,” you hummed, nonchalantly.
Well.
A muscle in his cheek twitched. His long bangs were all over his face but you couldn’t miss his death stare. Jungkook mouthed, fuck you, and you mouthed back, you are, before lifting himself to grip your calves, pushing your thighs down onto your ribs. He slowly and deliberately thrust into you. Taunting you to balk under his stare, but you did not, rising to the occasion. Literally. Your ass raised off the mattress as he snapped his hips in and he groaned deeply, clenching his jaw as your pussy squeezed him all over.
He didn’t look away, but he was warning you.
He slid out again. Then back in.
You did it again.
He growled and slammed his hard length back into you, dropping down. His palms smacked down onto the mattress and he bent over even more to hit that wicked depth, resulting in instant ecstasy radiating through your weighted lungs. You matched his ferocity. Your arms over your head and pushing back against the headboard, and he pounded you. Hard and intense and each collision knocking the wind out of your lungs, this is it, losing yourself to him, him losing himself to you, letting the carnal instinct take over. The rhythmic slap of hips to hips, wetness, drenched in your sex and his sweat. Every so often in the madness, you caught a glimpse of his gaze, fucked-out and craving more, and you saw your reflection in his eyes.
Mirroring him.
Your breath stilled in your throat.
The compounding sensations built and your body didn’t stop reacting. Time slowed down and seemed fast all at once, this is love, something your tried so hard to understand but screw it, fuck understanding and fuck believing in it, reaching up and curling your hand around Jungkook head, forcing him down lower, his heavy breath washing over you, his eyes closing as you gripped his hair and tugged, breathlessly moaning with him at the sight of his visceral pleasure, the sound, the pace, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips.
For as long as he loved you, your heart would love him back, no matter what your thoughts said.
“Not yet,” you gasped. “I’m close.”
“Fuck me, I’m gonna burst,” he whined, digging his palms in, slamming his hips into you and you saw Jungkook bite the side of his lower lip, suddenly silent, focusing hard, his sweaty black hair sticking to his forehead. He always went quiet when he didn’t want to cum too fast.
You wanted to torture him a little but the edging had brought you too close.
“Ah, Jungkook!”
Your head snapped back into the pillows and his fell back, the wanton sound of your joined moans loud and shameless, echoing throughout your bedroom as you came hard, tensing your entire body and feeling your pussy clamp down onto his jerking cock pumping the condom full of cum. The lack of sufficient air, the whirlwind of release, the closeness and a drop his sweat on your tongue, and you shuddered, clinging onto him as wave after wave crashed into you, each throb pulsing between your legs reaching him as well, burning you both in each sharp pang of erotic euphoria.
You heard him exhale your name, erratic and rough.
Thudding heartbeat revibrating against the base of your neck.
“Get…”
You felt his heat retreat, lowering your legs carefully.
“Get on your knees,” Jungkook panted.
You almost pointed out that this was your bed and not a hotel, these cum-covered sheets are going to have to be slept on because I’m not doing laundry in the dead of night, but either your body moved faster than your brain or you didn’t give a flying fuck. Or both. You turned and springboarded off your folded right arm, still on the searing high of adrenaline and the furious pulse between your legs. You heard him rip open another condom and gasp again at seeing your cheek pressed to the pillows, your chest against the bed, arching your back to raise your ass and spread open your holes for him to see.
“You’re so fucking hot, fuck.”
You flexed your pussy. It made an audible, wet sound, startling you slightly. It didn’t deter Jungkook the least. In fact, he grabbed your ass and dragged you down to him, groaning as he thrust into you again, immediately starting up from where he left off. You shoved your hands into the mattress and flicked your head, tossing back your hair and finally getting some air, breathless at his girth and strength.
Not that any of that stopped you from smacking your ass back into him.
“Fuck!”
It was becoming a favorite word.
Probably your fault.
Well, fuck.
You steeled your core and dropped your shoulders, spreading your knees a little more. By the depth of his groan and the increased ferocity of his thrusts, you knew you had reached that perfect angle, sighing out in satisfaction as you felt the repeated pressure hitting you just right, right there, fuck, yes, Jungkook, closing your eyes to burn in the desire, higher and higher, deep and hard and chasing the same height at the same fierce pace, feeling your heartbeat slam strongly in your chest.
The swell.
The echo.
The unison.
The way the sparks raced up and down your spine. Breaths drifting out, rapid and shallow, noticing his strained grunts and muted moans once again, smiling, then focusing, squeezing him tighter, your shivering walls massaging his cock. Admired how perfectly he fit inside you, almost to the brink of discomfort, seamless, your pussy pulling him in hungrily with each snap of his hips. His fingers dug into your ass and you savored that too, all of it, not taking a single second for granted, letting yourself become overstimulated in the multiple sensations.
Jungkook’s gravelly voice choked out your name.
The frantic edge indicating he was almost done for.
Before you could respond, your head jerked back and your eyes rolled up, the high nearly alarming, depraved moan falling from your lips as the power of the orgasm seized your lungs, knocking the wind out of you. It was almost too much. You would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Jungkook’s firm hold on you, gasping as he came. His hips twitched against your ass, pressed as deep into you as possible.
You moaned as his fingernails suddenly clawed down your lower back, heightening the peak of pleasure.
So good you couldn’t speak.
There were no words.
You could barely comprehend it anyway. There was no describing how different this sex was from all the others. You had known it once, but it even better now, afterglow radiating off of you, each nerve brimming with ecstasy, letting out a gratified exhale as his body leaned against your back, his hands sliding up your stomach and to your chest, squeezing your breasts and lightly toying with your nipples.
His lips pressed to your upper back, feathering you with a meteor shower of kisses.
Your torso shook, trying to come down but suspended. You didn’t resist him, clutching the rumpled sheets, sighing softly at the thrumming beat of heart-to-heart, his cock still inside you. Getting soft and probably against his will. He groaned, sounding annoyed.
“You know there’s always tomorrow, right?” you chuckled, inhaling and catching a whiff of his cologne on your bed.
The imprint of him already.
“I think it’s already tomorrow,” Jungkook grumbled, grunting as he held down the base of the condom and pulled out.
Well, he had always been here, at the back of your mind, never forgotten.
“I’ve got more in me,” he vented sternly, although you suspected that wasn’t really directed at you. You hadn’t faced him yet but if you turned around you were be quite sure that you would be greeted by the pleasant and entertaining sight of Jungkook glaring at his limp, overworked dick. And yet. You didn’t. Instead, you looked up. The window was within your line of sight.
The night sky up above, but the moon was right here, in the magic of this room.
“Jungkook.”
“Huh?”
Right?
“You’ll stay the night, won’t you?” you breathed to the sky, wishing the dream to life to the stars you couldn’t see.
Silence.
You turned your head, past the moon-shaped lamp across the room, past walls and everyday things, past the clothes scattered everywhere, and Jungkook was blinking at you, startled for a moment, big brown eyes wide, lips parted. Piercings. Tattoos.
Years on years.
“Anything for you,” he breathed back, staring straight into your eyes.
Still the same.
“Really. I will always stay by your side.”
He climbed back onto the bed. Over you. Skin to skin. Leaning down. Kiss after kiss, meaning more than raw passion, and you felt the wetness on your face. Drop after drop, fallen stars, and Jungkook brushed him away from his thumbs and his smile, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to, noona, I’m stuck on you, forever after, and you didn’t want to cry, no more, your arms around his torso, pulling him closer, gripping his shoulders, shuddering at the foreignness of expressing emotion.
“Are we…?”
Your voice was so small but he was so close, so close, his hands in your hair, forehead to forehead.
“Are we falling in love?” you whispered, staring into his eyes and finding the stars.
And now you could see that he, too, finally found the stars he had been looking for all this time.
Jungkook smiled.
“Yes.”
Crisp and intense, this peppermint gum love where every day was the rush of falling in love more and more, forever after making memories so this feeling could never fade away.
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Missed You (Hayden x FemReader)
Summary: You miss your big dork badly, so when he comes home… Well, you just gotta make up for lost time.
Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because it never hurts to be on the safe side. Making out and…Hayden’s skilled tongue and luscious lips.
Notes: A little something for @luvskywxlker! (You had some very perfect timing for this, just saying. 😉) Hope you like it! ❤️
- As much as you wanted to go with Hayden to his latest event, you, unfortunately, had to stay home…stupid job. And since you’re missing your big dork like crazy, you decide to try to cheer yourself up with some of your favorite comfort things.
- A bottle of wine, your fuzzy blanket, one of his t-shirts, and, of course, that one special movie. Everything was going great. You were starting to feel your mood really lift and vibing pretty good. Until a certain scene came on…
- “Don’t worry, baby boy! I still love you; crispy, barbeque butt and all!” You yell at the screen, big crocodile tears streaming down your face.
- You were very caught up in the moment. So much, in fact, that not only don’t you hear the front door open, but also a familiar voice calling out your name.
- Since you don’t properly answer, unless sobbing ‘Anniii’ counts, the source of that familiar voice sneaks up on you. And then proceeds to scare the ever-living shit out of you when… “Really, angel? Revenge of the Sith? You must have been missing me bad,” Hay chuckles, plopping down on the couch beside you.
- “What the?!” You dramatically squeak out, instinctively grabbing onto his shirt and burrowing yourself into his side.
- More laughter. “Sorry, baby, didn’t mean to do that!” Followed by his strong arms wrapping around you. “Let me make it up to you,” he says all sweetly. Pulling you into his lap, blanket and all.
- You want to be mad at him oh so badly. But seeing his smiling face, you can’t help but do so yourself. “You better,” you giggle giving him a playful smack.
- “Don’t I always,” he mutters. Lips just barely brushing against yours, large hands trailing down your arms and resting them on your hips.
- Shivering at his touch, goosebumps freckle your skin. Oh the things he could do to you. “Haayyy.”
- “Yeah?” He whispers, voice deep and gravelly. Blue eyes gazing intensely into yours.
- Leaning in close, your chest pressed into his. You gently grip his biceps and softly sigh. “Missed you.”
- His hand came up, cupping your cheek. “Missed you too.” And captures your lips, pulling you into a hot, searing kiss.
- Your head spins, body feels all flushed. Lips gliding over one another, so hungry and desperate for a taste. Your arms lazily wind around his thick neck, somehow drawing yourself even closer to him.
- Hayden bites down on the soft cushion of your bottom lip. Making you moan, to which he takes the opportunity and slips his tongue into your mouth. The kiss becoming more heated, as his totally dominates yours.
- Pulling away; both of you panting, lungs greedy for air. “Sweet as always.” He flashes you a small grin before his lips are back on yours.
- Wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, your throbbing core brushes against his hard cock. Causing each of you to moan and groan. His hands sliding down to knead and grope your ass.
- Passionate, needy kisses move down your neck. His teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, mouth marking you up so beautifully. His tongue gliding across your collarbone, savoring every inch of you.
- You gasp as he finds your sweet spot, nails digging into his broad shoulders. Your toes practically curling from the pleasure. “Fuck, Hay,” you whine, hips slowly dragging on his thighs and lap. “Please, pretty please.”
- Giving you one last nip, he, much to your disappointment, pulls away. His hot breath fanning over you, sending sparks of pleasure up and down your spine. “What do you say we continue this in the bedroom?”
- Biting your lip, you excitedly nod.
- “That’s, my girl.” Squeezing your butt firmly one last time, he grabs your hand and the half-drunk bottle of wine.
- Before you two go running off… “Wait!” You pause the movie. “Wouldn’t want to miss the ending.”
- Shaking his head, Hayden laughs and gives you a gentle tug. “Come on, little dork. I can’t stand to miss you a minute longer.”
- A wicked grin crosses your face as you slip an arm around his middle. “At least I’m not the one who talked about my snow blower in front of a huge audience.”
- You got a light tap on the ass for that one. “And my ride on lawn mower, don’t forget that.”
#hayden christensen#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen fanfiction#hayden christensen smut#anakin skywalker#anakin#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x reader#star wars anakin#sw anakin#anakin smut#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfiction#star wars#star wars fanfiction#star wars prequels#star wars smut#smut#smutty fanfiction#making out
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criston cole in a greens win au really is the kingmaker if he’s cucking aegon. slapped a crown on the king and now he’s making bastard kids to go on the throne. u go king.
Now I must write a blurb hnghhhh cuckingggg this is prob ass bc I’m sick rotting in bed with flubonic plague but OH WELL
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Dayne!reader, greens win AU, Criston is dark and manipulative, Aegon sad sacking around the place, cukolding, exhibitionism, breeding kink, crispy creme pie, infidelity, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), pnv!sex, no beta I die like Ned stark, jealousy, one-sided-ish
Taglist: @starogeorgina @moncherri @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @valeskafics @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @lovelykhaleesiii
Do Your Job - C.Cole
Criston stopped caring long ago, pulling himself out of the layered filth of blood, gore, and dirt. Bodies of his men. The butcher’s ball they called it. Criston made sure that the Winter’s Wolves, Benjicot Blackwood, and Roddy the Ruin got a nice death by dragon. After some torture.
He saw through with that, as the Hand of the King and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Criston had to attend to such matters. Such as what to do with Rhaenyra’s last child. Or the fucking mess that was Aegon. Aemond was still lurking around Harrenhal— said to return when his child was born. Aegon meanwhile, made Criston’s blood boil. Alicent was a maddened gnat in his ear.
Aegon had been recently remarried to a Dayne of Starfall, seeking out the ashen hair and Valyrian eyes of the Dornish house. She was gorgeous, eager to please, and could suck Criston’s prick under his desk for hours. The adorable queen had trouble with Aegon— considering the man was a bag of shattered bones and burns. The maesters had been attending to the two’s fertility plan.
She was not hard to woo, seeking Cole’s comforts as Aegon still wanted to hoard playthings and whores, uncaring much of his wife at the moment. He bedded her regularly— but they had to be careful with his bad leg and hip. Criston’s little star, beautiful as one, was the shiniest thing in the dreary keep by far. But horribly lonely, so he’d been keeping an eye, asking the Queen to help him with letters and tasks of the realm.
It wasn’t long before she was in his lap crying about how terrible the Red Keep was. Criston had his proverbial claws sunk deep into her by then. He meant his words of praise, how special his star was, and meant doubly on how much he too hated the Keep. Criston’s fingers crawled up her dress as he cooed, bringing the girl to likely her first orgasm since arriving.
They sat together in the Hand’s foyer, Ser Cole writing a letter to some raucous lordling. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back, dark eyes meeting a strange indigo of sorts. “Have there been any advancements with the maesters and your womb?” She shook her head, blush dusting her cheeks.
“Go on, what’s the issue my star?”
She leaned over the table to grip his hands, pleading in her body language. “Do not grow wroth when I tell you this okay?” Criston nodded, there was no chance he would not be pissed. Just a feeling. The Dayne sighed, “He’s impotent but he swears it’s me, I don’t know, they’ve started transferring his, seed, into me. By now I’m not sure, he berates me about it.” Criston’s eyes narrowed and she squeaked.
The smaller figure was picked up by him, striding to the King’s chambers. Where Aegon was like to be making two court favorites defile themselves. The queen begged, “My lord, please, I know you feel strongly for me but-“
He growled, “No!,” then softer, “No. He’s being a fool, a lady’s desire should help the process. I’ll oversee you two. We need heirs to the throne.”
He kicked open the door, startling a half-awake Aegon. Criston gently laid the Queen on the bed then turned to a glaring Targaryen. Aegon’s burnt face twisted in annoyance, slightly slurring, “The hell is going on here Cole?” A goblet of wine sat in front of him— of course he was drinking.
Criston folded his arms. “You’re drunk right now? It’s barely even past midday.”
“Sorry, one tends to get bored when his wife would rather cavort around with the Hand,” he acridly spat back.
She protested from behind, “Alright, I can stay around, it’s fine!”
Criston eyed his star and back to Aegon. He asked “You have a beauty like that and can’t fill her belly with seed? You have the maesters stuff her like a turkey instead? Pathetic.”
Aegon’s form shook with rage, reaching for his crutch, Criston swiftly kicking it out of the way with a clatter. Aegon barked, “I’m your goddamn king, bring that back now! Maybe she’s the one barren, dirtied by lowborn seed!”
That little fucker! Criston’s eye twitched. He had not put his cock into her sacred place but now? Someone had to do the job— and it would be him. The taller brunette forced Aegon’s chair closer to the bed, the king hissing in pain, violet eyes wide. Cole chastised, “Since you’re so smart, I’ll do a little test, see if my lowborn cock has sullied her womb.” Aegon’s soft face pulled into a frown, squirming in position.
Criston began to pull at his gauntlets in quick snaps, then the bracers, and the chest plate along with the heavy shoulders. He decided to keep his chain of hands on as an ego boost. Lowborn cock raised to the second highest position in the realm, doing the highest position’s job.
Dayne stared at him, eyes flicking to the strangely silent Aegon, then back. Criston smiled at the queen, winding a tan hand into her ashen locks. He murmured, “Don’t worry dearest, we’ll have you feeling wonderful in no time, right your Grace?” Aegon remained stone cold— lips pouting.
The hand began to ease off the simple Dornish layers of her dress, baring that gorgeous body. How could she not be fertile? His star was all curves and soft skin, she would be great as a mother. Criston told her that, earning a whine, her legs wrapped around his waist. He panted to the king, “First, they need to be actually attracted to you.”
Cole pressed lush kisses to her neck and shoulders, his big hand testing the waters between her thighs. She was a little wet, not yet how he could get the Dayne, sopping. He rasped just for her ears, “Relax for me, he’s so jealous you might get an obedient king. Gorgeous star doesn’t know her own wiles.” She writhed a bit, tits pressed tight against flat chest.
“Oh, oh, there my Lord,” the blonde panted.
Criston was pumping one finger into her velvet heat, sliding in a second one to crook upwards. His thumb swirled around her swollen bud. He laughed carelessly at Aegon, whose scarred hands dug into the sides of his chair, puffy lips open. The brunette snarked, “See how easy it is not to be a selfish prick? It’s quite rewarding to make your lady come— although I think she’s already too attached to me.”
The king whined softly.
The queen moaned louder, crying Criston’s name and wetting his fingers further. The knight pulled from her full tits, purposely working her cunt over while asking. “Doesn’t that feel good little star? Don’t you wish your King would take care of you like that?” The queen gasped and mewled, cheeks a deep flush, eyes guiltily looking over at the squirming Aegon.
Criston patted her cheek, pressing a kiss over plump lips. Inky eyes and smug lips turned again to talk down to the Targaryen. He added in a dark voice, “Obviously you can’t do the fucking job so I will until you get it up and pump her with a blonde one. Although I am quite attached myself, she’s a wonderful little star. I’m going to fuck her good and thorough. Our first time too.”
Aegon whined, begging, “Ser, stop, I didn’t know, don’t!” But his hard cock was pulsing and the king had made no attempt to call for help. He couldn’t move either, the crutch out of his grasp. Aegon watched Criston work his wife into a peak, her pretty breasts heaving, thighs twitching. Utterly gorgeous. Jealousy swelled within his burnt chest.
The Dayne beauty sloppily mouthed against Criston’s mouth, trailing down to press kisses against his lower belly, grabbing his cock before asking. “You want to impregnate me sir? Give me an heir?” She could almost explode at the thought. Criston nodded, eyes hazy as her plump lips enveloped his cock, hands expert on rolling his balls and the other working in tandem with that warm mouth.
Aegon made a gutted noise.
Criston groaned deeply, watching his length disappear down velvet throat. The queen kept her indigo eyes on him, teary and wide. Fucking beautiful. He swallowed down a weak noise and rasped to Aegon, “She’s quite good at this, willing to please and eager to learn your Grace. But there you are, quickly back to your old ways.” She shuddered at the praise, Criston easing his star off so the real fun could begin.
He murmured, “On your back sweetling.” He pecked her once, shivering at the taste of him. The queen laid on her back, instinctively tucking a pillow under her hips. Criston rumbled, playfully giving her ass a smack. “Good girl, mmm, you just want to be a mama hm?” The shared noises of Aegon and his Queen made the Knight laugh.
He eased himself on top, making sure her thick thighs spread around his waist. The knight laid forward, grinning and nuzzling her nervous face. He cooed, “You’re safe with me star, pretty baby, doing so good.” Her arms slunk around his shoulders, their bodies fitting with together as Criston eased himself into her slick, swollen folds.
Fuck, she was tight and pulsing already, inner walls aiming to milk the man. Lady Dayne cried out, busty tits heaving as she was filled up by Ser Criston’s heavy cock. It was foreign, having so much care put into her pleasure. She moaned in surprise when he bottomed out, rasping nonsense against her neck.
Aegon sniveled now, watching his Queen get something he couldn’t possibly provide. Ser Criston, the crafty fucker, already worked his magic and cock into his queen. The blonde regretted many an action against his wonderful wife— seeing how she mooned over fucking Cole. Cole; a common born conniving oathbreaking madman, he truly enjoyed seeing suffering and agony. But there he was, giggling and gently fucking Aegon’s queen, the picture of chivalry. He needed more wine, and to tug his miserable cock.
Criston hiked her legs up, the back of her knees in the crooks of his arms— a mating press. She cried out, little hands scrabbling at his shoulders, eyes getting teary with pleasure. He moaned low, forcefully fucking himself inside her tight cunt, making sure she could feel every little drag and thrust. She mewled in ecstasy, “Criston, Ser, breed me, breed me please! Ohh I want it, need it!”
He grinned at Aegon’s sobs and pulling of his own prick. Criston teased “You want my seed star? Want to be all pretty and round, knowing your Lord Hand made you swell? Tits and hips so ripe for me, such a pretty mother you’ll make.” She tightened around him, arching her back, practically drooling. He focused on fucking her deep, swiping his thumb around her button, earning the cutest little mewls.
“Yes! Gods yes! Criston,” she howled, clamping down on his prick. He pressed his lips to hers, grunting as he fucked her to the point of no return. He cooed at his cute little star crying out her peak, gushing all over his still-moving cock. She weeped, “Please, give me your seed, want to be a mama, please!” Cole couldn’t deny her request, groaning long and low as his tummy tightened, emptying pump after pump of his cum into her tight pussy. He bit his lip bloody in the process, feeling feral, but the knight wouldn’t tear her skin like that.
He let go of her legs, gently holding her canted hips, humming, “How long do they say wait Aeg?”
A sharp cry, gasp, and tortured, “15 minutes.”
The Dayne didn’t even seem to be worried about her broken husband, smiling and holding Criston’s big hands. She kissed at each knuckle, eyes full of adoration and love. How they should be. How he deserved all along. What a special little star.
The first two came out with brown hair and eyes, sending a familiar shock across the keep. Then the third had ashen hair, just like the Queen. Mayhaps the Targaryen gene wasn’t that strong within Aegon, people whispered. Criston would smile, not indulging a secret. He’d rub her pretty bump alone, let Aegon play the daddy. He did alright enough.
#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#one sided feelings#aegon ii targaryen#ser criston cole#ser criston cole x reader#Criston cole x reader#Ser criston cole imagine
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Katakuri x bimbo reader Headcannons. Gender neutral reader
Katakuri didn’t want a wife, not wanting to share his privacy with anyone. But after seeing how clumsy and naive you were he wanted to protect you more than anything.
It also helped that you were the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He didn’t understand how you were so sweet and innocent, but your body was so lude and sexy.
After realizing the lights were on but no one was home he realized he’d have to care for you. So he made sure you ate, started giving you beli to buy things you enjoyed. Every time you wore something pretty he made you show it off for him. You were happy to oblige loving the attention.
He always leaves marks on your body. Hand prints on your ass and thighs and hickeys on your neck. He feels like he’s letting his siblings know someone as beautiful as you belongs to him. Considering a lot of them will do light flirting with you.
You often try to make him doughnuts but they’re either a little undercooked or puff up and get to crispy. He still eats them anyway, he thinks it sweet you try for him even if you can’t cook.
He thinks you’re such a sweet little thing for him. Always waiting for him to come home welcoming him back with your bad attempt at cooking. “Welcome back darling!” He gives you forhead kisses and brings you close to his body. “I’m home sugar”
Katakuri always has someone watching you. You’ll easily get lost or talk to random strangers he always has homies looking over you just in case. He’s had to come after you more than once when you stray too far from him.
He got you a Diamond collar with a K on it. He likes to see you wear it everywhere. He loves having you wear it especially at his mother’s party’s. It may seem shallow but seeing people stare at him in jealousy because your by his side boost his ego.
He likes to get you very thin and tiny lingerie and just stare at your body or have you do things for him around the house. Or snuggle his head in your chest forgetting about his day and all the work he has. “Darling don’t you have to work?” “Sugar, you know not to mention work when I’m relaxing, now bend over”
During his merienda he has his doughnut and tea laying on his back bringing you on top of him. When he finishes, he has you. “Do you want me to put sprinkles on so I taste better” “ This is why I love you”
#charlotte katakuri#one piece katakuri#one piece#katakuri imagine#katakuri x reader#one piece x reader
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Enabler (Mark Hoffman x Female!Reader)
a/n: y'all missed me? i binged the entirety of the saw franchise while sick and... yeah.. f the police right?
Warnings: Non-Con (like, fr, be warned, be safe), a lazy ass idea for a Jigsaw trap, Workplace Crush heehee, Smut, Strahm's also here
Summary: You've survived a test, made for you by Jigsaw. As your two coworkers visit you in the hospital, Hoffman thinks back to that faithful night of your kidnapping. Cross-Posted on AO3.
Live or die, detective. Make your choice.
The mechanically distorted voice follows you through your journey to regaining consciousness. It's words flicker in and out of existence, as your eyelids flutter against the white light of the hospital room. Your eyes water and you groan, as the mixture of the night's events comes back to you in a wave of nausea and dull pain engulfing your entire body. Your fingers scratch lightly at the crispy white duvet, and you feel every single tendon in your hand flex, earning another groan from you.
There's a steady sound of beeping present in the room. It makes your brows furrow slightly. It must've been really bad, if they had you hooked up to a heart monitor. You don't really remember just how bad it was, your mind flickers to the moment you slid your hand into the metal box and then... Pain, so much pain, and the smell of blood that follows you like a phantom even in the pristine light of the hospital room.
- Thank God you're awake. - a voice brings you back from beneath the surface, a familiar one, laced with inexplicable worry.
You force your eyes to open all the way. Bright light attacks your pupils and you can't bring your arm up to shield yourself, even if you tried. Pain, bordering on tearing, floods your system whenever you try to force your upper limbs to work. Tears form beneath your eyelids and you blink forcefully to distribute moisture across your eyeballs.
There are two men in your room, and even their blurred sillhouettes are enough to let a wave of relief wash over you.
One standing by the foot of your bed, towering over the entire space, even with the slight hunch in his back. The other one sits by your side, hands fiddling with the edge of a green blanket the hospital staff must've left for you. Even with the grogginess of sleep still hanging onto you, you immediately notice the sudden lack of his wedding ring, which he usually kept on. Perhaps he's just washed his hands. On instinct, your head rolls over towards the sitting man, and your lips pull back into a tired smile of recognition.
- Hello ladies... - your voice doesn't sound like a voice at all.
It's hoarse, barely recognizable, sounding more like a huff of wind going through rusty machinery. Still, Special Agent Peter Strahm lets out a puff of air, tension sliding off of his shoulders as if a tangible weight has been lifted from them. Your eyes shift downwards, towards his hands, and you watch as his fingers twitch, so close to grabbing yours, yet deciding against it at the last minute.
God bless professionalism, you think bitterly, before straightening your head on the pillow and looking towards the other man.
Detective Mark Hoffman watches you intensly from the foot of your bed, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you. Face almost washed out of any color, sunken cheeks and eyes, lips so close to blue it's almost making him pity you. Almost.
Then, there are the bandages. Starting at both of your palms, running up and up, all the way towards your elbows, where your skin peaks at him from under the hospital gown. They've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but he can see clear as day, specs of drying blood showing through the cloth, creating a contrast that's strangely hypnotizing. He doesn't want to imagine how your arms look underneath. Doesn't need to, he has seen those wounds first hand. Both after you were rescued... And before that.
- How long have I been out? - you ask after a moment of silence, your voice regaining a bit of your usual color.
Mark opens his mouth, but it's Strahm who answers you first. The Detective bites down on a scowl. He was never too interested in literary heights, but even he must admit there is something poetic about the both of them crowding around your bed, while you lay there, stricken by tragedy. It makes him feel ridiculous. You make him feel ridiculous.
- Two days - Strahm supplies, his eyes flickering around your face, the bed, the medical apparatus - You've been unconscious most of the time, lost a whole lot of blood.
To that, you scoff, or laugh, neither of them are sure. Of course you've lost a lot of blood. That was the point of the game, wasn't it? To bleed yourself dry. And supposedly some important life lesson was also hidden in there, but after five minutes of pissing blood from your veins into a beaker, you really must've lost it in translation.
- Fuck... - you sigh, slowly trying to move your muscles under the covers.
You try to lift your hand towards the bedside table, where a water bottle with a straw is waiting for you, but your hand starts to shake so badly, you have to give up. Oh, you hated this. This feeling of helplessness. That's when Hoffman springs to action, closing the distance between himself and the other side of your bed. He snatches the bottle from the table like a man on a mission, and places the straw right at your lips.
- Thanks - you mutter, eyes connecting with his for a split second, before focusing all your efforts on drinking.
You don't remember water tasting this good, and as you swallow, you let yourself hum with delight. After a while, the bottle is finished, and Mark dutifully places it back on the table, debating whether to shuffle back to his original place, or to somehow stay here, looming over you as there was no chair for him to sit in. You decide for him, patting the side of your bed and attempting to shift your legs a little, to make more room. He takes the hint and plops himself right next to your foot, his hand coming up to grab at your calf reassuringly. Immediately after that, all reservations seem to leave Strahm, as his hand slides over yours in a warm embrace.
If you weren't so goddamn tired, you would've laughed. Two manly men, fighting like a bunch of petty schoolgirls. Your chest swells with something dangerously close to affection. Quick, someone call for the doctors to bring back professionalism into the room.
- Do you remember anything from that night? - Hoffman asks with slight tension in his voice.
- Is this really the best time to be asking this? They've barely woken up - Strahm's always close to outrage when Hoffman's around, and you silence him with a slight shake of your head.
- It's fine, I can talk - you mutter, brain already working overtime, as you think hard on every single detail from your recent kidnapping.
- I called you.
Your eyes focus on Hoffman, and you can see his jaw shift under his skin as he swallows. His lips twitch into a small smile, but you can see worry settling heavily over his brows, as he looks over the bandages on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your calf through the blanket.
- That you did. - and at the time, it almost startled him to death.
***
The puff of smoke you let out flows into the night air of the city, as you lean your head against the cool wall of the restaurant. You're dressed a bit too elegantly, too much like a costume of a successful woman, with skinny heels and too big of a coat.
Hoffman watches with unreserved fascination the way neon lights illuminate the column of your throat. Hidden in the shadows of his car, finally he can watch you without the confines of his professional reputation restraining him. Only if for a fleeting moment, before he has to put on the mask and fulfill his other duty.
Still, his eyes glide greedily over your body, dolled up specially for this fancy dinner with your highschool "friends". You've been buzzing around the station for almost a week now, complaining about this particular meeting, and every time you've mentioned it, Hoffman was making plans. All he had to do, was wait until you were ready to leave. He was certain, you would like a long, calming walk after this whole spectacle. You always did those, whenever a particularly hard hitting case appeared.
Another puff of smoke, and you reach towards the pocket of your coat, fishing out your phone and flicking it on. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he watches you dial a number and place the device between your shoulder and your ear. Your hand reaches down to loosen the strap on your heel, and Hoffman is so transfixed by your display of calculated clumsiness, he almost flies from his seat, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket.
Your number is displayed proudly next to your name, and he blinks a few times, before answering.
- Hoffman speaking.
- It's me - your words are slightly slurred, and from his hiding spot he can see the smile forming on your painted lips.
- Did something happen? Why are you calling me? - he asks, trying to sound as bored and tired as he possibly can, while fighting off the sudden jolt of adrenaline surging through his body.
He sees you straighten out against the wall, finally giving up on the strap of your heel. Then he hears the shuffling. And laughter, a short chuckle that sends something swirling in his stomach.
- I'm fine, I'm fine... I just... - you hesitate, hand coming up to tug at the roots of your hair, before taking a long drag from your cigarette, irresponsible, Hoffman thinks - I just wanted to hear a voice of someone who's not a complete asshole.
His laugh comes out in a huff, and it seems contagious enough to make you chuckle as well. If only you knew on how many layers you were in the wrong. Perhaps you'll find out someday, most likely not. Not after tonight.
Still, the sheer notion of you calling him of all people. Calling him instead of your favorite Special Agent even. There's a feeling dangerously close to pride climbing up Hoffman's chest, and he has to swallow it down, before he does something stupid. Which, in this case would be not doing anything. He has to remind himself, why this whole situation is taking place, and all feelings of flattery turn to ash in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow.
- I take it the dinner isn't going well.
- Oh it's fucking terrible - you shake your head in frustration - I don't really care about what they say, I just want to eat food. Which, as it turns out, is a lot to ask for at a dinner party.
- Want me to come over? - he asks, hand playing idly with the black synthetic hair of his pig mask.
For a second, you seem to be actually considering it, and Hoffman would lie, saying it didn't make something swell up in his chest again. Dangerous, very dangerous.
- Nah - you sigh, before throwing a long, disgusted look at the door to the restaurant - Give me permission to ditch them.
He doesn't hesitate to engage in this short, familiar dance of yours.
- You have my permission to ditch them.
Another sigh, then a wave of giggles. Your expression in the neon lights looks almost affectionate. Hoffman reaches for the chloroform bottle.
- Thank you - is this a blush Hoffman sees on your cheeks, or is it just his mind supplying what he wishes was true, who's to say - For the talk and everything. I'll see you at the station.
- Good night, Detective.
He disconnects with one hand, while the other wrestles the mask over his face.
You don't even notice, when he slips behind you, with a chloroform cloth in his palm. It takes a couple of seconds of wrestling, but it still makes him pretty worked up, in more ways than he has anticipated. There is no screaming, for which he is grateful. Your body is strong against his, as you give him all you've got, trying to shake his much larger frame. Your heel digs painfully into his foot, as you slam it down, and he fights back the urge to scream. You can't hear his voice, it would be too telling. While his one hand presses the cloth to your face, the other tries to contain the flurry of panicked punches you throw his way.
The way you wriggle against him shouldn't really affect him that much, hasn't affected him with any other victims. But the sheer fact it's you he's overpowering, seems to be enough. He balls the cloth in his hand sticking it further down your mouth, and shudders at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his leather gloves.
A muffled scream is all that you have left, as your hips buck into his forcefully, hands scratching down his forearms. His breathing heavily behind you, watching with mixed emotions as, finally, consciousness leaves you.
You fall down in a heap at his feet, to which Hoffman has to admit, he has never felt so powerful. There's blood on your stiletto and a perfectly round hole in his shoe. He grunts in annoyance at the prospect of having to hide a limp for a couple of weeks.
Getting your lifeless body into the trunk of his car is laughably easy.
***
- So you didn't see who attacked you? - Hoffman clarifies, and you nod solemnly.
His hands flex, your leg underneath his palm twitching slightly. Strahm sighs heavily next to you, his head hung low, as he massages your fingers so gently, it's almost as if he's afraid you'll break under his touch.
You appreciate that, him leaving his bad cop persona on the hanger by the door. Still, between his tactful worry and Hoffman's stressed twitchiness, one of you has to be the stern policeman. And it seems this time the honor falls on your shoulders. So, you wiggle in your place, rising into a sitting position. The suddenly stern expression seems almost foreign on your sunken face, a caricature of a person you used to be. No, scratch that, you still are. This is the one thing you won't allow Jigsaw to corrupt.
- He's strong though - you say, eyes glued to the edge of the green blanket, as you focus on all the sensations from the night of your attack - Uses chloroform to sedate his victims.
- Kramer? - Hoffman asks and you immediately shake your head.
- I can take a dying cancer patient. That man was healthy, fucking gigantic and... - your eyebrows furrow - He caught me by surprise right after we ended the call.
Hoffman looks like he has something else to say, but he swallows thickly, his palm pressing further into your calf. You try to give him a reassuring smile, convince him, that it's alright. It falls flat against his tense expression, and you know deep down, he feels guilty for not talking to you longer, not checking up on you. He shouldn't, but it's just the way he works. And you appreciate it.
He's enjoying himself far more than he would've anticipated, listening to you talk about him without actually knowing anything.
He likes the way your entire face scrunches in focus, trying to remember anything of note, while he's sitting right here, right in front of you. Perhaps he's becoming an adrenaline junkie? All thanks to you. Yes, he thinks, eyes gliding over your disheveled hair, you're absolutely the enabler here, and you don't even realize that.
Even after what he put you through.
His jaw tightens at the thought of you never actually learning from this special, intimate experience he has concocted just for the two of you. Haven't you heard the tape? Or perhaps you're just too goddamn dense to comprehend the lesson. As he looks into your doe eyes filled with pity and misguided understanding, he's beginning to think the latter's the case.
- And after that? - Strahm is still careful, as if you are some startled animal, and Hoffman huffs through his nose, letting some of his bubbling anger out.
You visibly shudder, and while on the surface both men have the same, worried reaction, Hoffman feels as if he's ready to run a marathon. You're scared, scarred forever by him, and yet here you sit, unaware. Letting him pet your leg like some goddamn pet. Good thing Kramer doesn't actually know how to read minds, otherwise Hoffman might end up in a trap himself for just thinking about you.
- I woke up in a chair - you answer after a while, your voice numb and emotionless.
That won't do, Hoffman thinks, eyes burrowing into your skull, as if he wants to drill a hole and look straight into your brain. He wants you crying, unconsolable, changed. That carefree, light persona you've been flaunting before him since the moment you've arrived at his station. He wanted it gone.
- My legs were tied, and my wrists were hanging down from the armrest. There were boxes underneath, with buttons...
Suddenly, you head snaps up, eyes fiery and filled with righteous fire none of the men expected. Hoffman thinks, for just a second, that something has clicked in your mind. Something that would unmask his entire operation. The thought excites and terrifies him at the same time and subcontiously, he throws a quick look towards Strahm, who's too absorbed in your statement to pay him any mind.
- He was checking the restraints when I woke up - there is something in your voice, something that makes Strahm lean closer in his chair, something that keeps Hoffman from breathing too deeply, because deep inside he knows what comes next - I think this whole thing can be psycho-sexual.
There. You can hear the pin drop, as your words register in the men's brains.
- How...? - Strahm starts, but you cut him off harshly.
- He got hard while tying me up.
Silence.
Only the beeping from the medical apparatus can be heard in the room. Strahm closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next question he has to ask. Hoffman on the other hand is becoming redder and redder under the collar of his shirt. How far will you go with your story?
- Did he...? - Strahm swallows, cutting himself off.
Hoffman leans forward, as if he wants to pull the answer from between your teeth himself.
Did he? You're avoiding both their gazes, eyes flickering between your bandaged arms, something darker settling over your features as memories flood you. Did he? Hoffman's hand clamps itself down onto your calf, you can feel all five fingers digging into your flesh. How much will you tell, how much are you willing to share with your darling Special Agent? With him? Hoffman feels his chest tighten, every breath becoming more and more shallow. You, on the other hand, inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale.
- He didn't.
Hoffman wants to laugh.
***
He tightens the restraints on your left arm, when you start to rouse from sleep. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into his arm. He freezes in his spot, one hand flying towards his face to secure the pig mask over his features. Silence hangs heavily between the two of you, cut only by the quiet groans coming from your waking body.
Transfixed, Hoffman watches the way your lips seem to hang slightly open, lipstick smeared, mascara running, staining his shirt, as you all but rub your face against his shoulder. You look lovely like this, so vulnerable, with your face mushed against him. Nothing like the headstrong, strudy woman he's come to know over the short time you've spent at his station.
Were your superiors aware of what they were doing? Sending some pretty young thing, straight from the academy, eyes still shining with ideals, all the way into the heap of corruption that was his city? And right in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the world has ever seen. They must've known you were doomed to fail. The narrative was never on your side, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.
- Mmm... - finally, he can hear your voice get clearer, still groggy from the chemicals he has pumped into your neck - Mark...
He nearly jumps at the sound of his name. Thoughts run rampant through his skull, heart beating so hard, he's scared it will fly right out of his chest. Have you recognized him? He made sure to leave all traces of the Detective Mark Hoffman at the door before starting this. It was impossible, he did everything right.
Your head rolls back against the backrest of the chair, your throat exposed to the world, to his hungry eyes. Your pulse runs rampant through your veins, and Hoffman feels a sudden urge to rip your trachea out with his teeth. Or, press an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, he can't seem to decide.
- Oh, Mark... - a moan slips from your lips, and this time, he fully comprehends what is happening.
The realization runs past his brain and straight to his crotch. With shaking hands he reaches for a leather belt, and forcefully pushes it into your mouth, causing your eyelids to flutter.
Finally, your eyes start to open. Pretty eyes, he thinks, especially now that they're surrounded by dark stains from your mascara, glossy and unfocused. You writhe in the chair, as if you're waking up from a wonderful nap, arms straining against the restraints when you try to stretch. Then, your body freezes, realization that something is terribly wrong settling over you in an almost visible shadow.
Panicked, you turn your head towards him. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and Hoffman flexes his fingers. The urge to rip his mask off, to show you who he really is grows in him like a tumor.
Oh the look on your face would be something for the history books. Your favorite grumpy detective, your best work buddy. Would the truth about his identity crush you? He liked to think it would. He liked to think it would suck any will to live right out of you.
He wanted to have that power over you.
Hoffman drinks in your terrified expression like a man parched. The confusion between your eyebrows, the click in your jaw, when you realized you've been gagged, the way your eyes find him in the darkness of the room. It's almost too easy to let himself be enchanted by the way you look, so different from your usual appearance.
Where is that young profiler teasing him about his gruff exterior any chance they get? He could never decide whether he wanted to kill you or fuck you in these situations, hiding his frustrations behind an exasperated eyeroll, or a smile if he felt generous.
Right now, he can't decide either, as you begin to move in the chair, tugging at the belts holding your limbs down, scanning the room behind him, You're smart, he knows and despises that with his whole heart. Because if you weren't, he could just write you off as a naive, stupid girl, who doesn't know her place. But he can't, which means everything you've done, you've been doing intentionally, and the thought boils him from the inside.
Your gaze falls towards the boxes under your hands, the slits in the armrests, where stainless steel blades reflect the light from a singular lamp. And the beaker, right in front of you, ready to be filled. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're supposed to do, and you give out a pathetic whine, which Hoffman immediately commits to his memory.
Killing you is out of his hands now. The game has been set, and the outcome rests solely on your trembling shoulders. The second part however...
His eyes rake across your entire body, taking in the elegant blouse, which is now stained and torn in a couple of places. The tight pencil skirt you've chosen for the dinner, and how it has ridden up your thighs. Your stockings, torn on your knees, where you fell to the floor. And those damned stilettoes, one of which still has his blood on it's heel . Which reminds him...
Hoffman steps in front of your chair, your eyes following him cautiously. He can see thoughts run rampant through your head, searching for a way to get out, trying to determine his intentions, anything that might be helpful.
Well, good fucking luck Miss Profiler.
He kneels down in front of you, taking a hold of your calf in a manner so gentle he's surprised himself. The leather gloves on his fingers make the task of unclasping the small belt around your leg a hassle, but he doesn't falter. You two have all the time in the world.
Figuratively speaking. He needs to be out of here in half an hour.
The heel slips from your foot and Hoffman lets out a barely audible chuckle, as he's greeted by neon pink nail polish.
Professionalism, you would remind him every single time, whenever he even dreamt of coming closer to you. It was infuriating, the way you led him by his nose, coming to work in the tightest of clothing, swaying your hips like the place belonged to you. And then, you would walk past him with a laugh and wink at Strahm of all people, when you thought he wasn't looking.
His hand splays out all across your calf, a touch so unexpected, he feels your muscles jump under his fingers. All your focus shatters immediately, as his second hand joins the other, running up and down your leg, stopping just short of your thigh. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and he follows your line of vision straight to a very visible problem brewing in his trousers. Mentally, he scolds himself for loosing control so easily.
If Kramer could see him now, he'd shoot him on the spot.
But then again, maybe not. After all he agreed to let Hoffman orchestrate this entire game, and then allowed him to carry it out, despite his connections to the victim. You could never guess with that old bastard, and for that, Hoffman is eternally grateful.
Your body twitches in the chair, as he finally drags his hands higher. You squirm, leather gloves feeling foreign on your skin.
He knows, he knows, he wants to coo at you from under the mask, swallowing the urge with a sigh. You can't hear his voice, he reminds himself, almost too enraptured by the heat radiating off of your body.
He continues to massage your leg, fingers hooking into the torn material of your stocking, pulling at it, tearing it further in an agonizingly slow pace. Almost as if he wants to watch closely as the fibers give away. Then, in a sudden change of pace he rips them entirely apart, until they fall in strips of sheer fabric on the chair.
A gasp escapes you, and you spring into action, legs clamping shut in an instant. You're fast, but Hoffman is faster, and he wedges both his hands between your shaking thighs. It takes little to no effort to open you up again, and he leans down, squeezing his torso between your knees.
Time freezes for a moment, as the both of you watch each other closely. Your chest is rising and falling in rapid succession, as fire begins to brew in your eyes. Hoffman leans even closer, hands skimming just short of your core, as they forcefully drag your skirt up.
God, he loves this look on you. The heat, the anger, the swirling desire. Because he can clearly see the way you take in his frame, unknown to you yet so familiar. Were you able to decipher some familiarities? At this point he can't seem to care, he's so close to his reward.
Touch me, and I'll kill you, your eyes scream at him.
If you kill me, I'll drag you down with me, the dark holes of his mask seem to reply.
Two forceful tugs and the material of your underwear tears from your body. Cold air makes you uncomfortable, yes, but it's nothing compared to the stillness of the man before you. He stares, intensely, for a moment completely frozen in his spot. You can hear deep, heathing breaths coming from the rubber mask and wonder what is going through this strange man's head. For a second you're actually worried this will be the end of it. As much as you hated what was happening to you right now, you would hate it much more, if you were left wanting.
Your worries are disproved in a split-second, as gloved fingers wiggle their way into your core. They take you apart, delicately at first, as if the man before you is trying to commemorate your every nook and cranny to memory. This slow exploration twists into adoration in your mind, as you fight off an onslaugh of shivers deliciously running down your spine. You huff, muscles tensing at the intrusion. Despite your growing wetness, the man in front of you has some real thick fingers, made even bigger by his leather gloves.
He turns his masked head to the side, and you desperately want to know what he's thinking. Your head rolls back, as you bite down on the leather belt in your mouth. Eyes closing, your mind starts to wander into places you're too ashamed to acknowledge.
God, you're sick. Thinking about your much older coworker in this beyond fucked up situation. But your mind has already supplied you with images of him rolling his sleeves up. His eyes following you around the room when he thinks you don't pay attention. Lingering touches that burn through your clothing. Oh, how much you reveled in the attention, how you stored all those small moments in your mind, just to bring them up in the privacy of your home.
Perhaps you deserve to be put in trap, perhaps this is your lesson. Discovering the depths of your depravity.
With a deep sigh, Hoffman pushes his finger in, as far as it can go, and your hips nearly fly off the chair, bucking into his palm. The sound you make bounces off the walls of the room, surrounding him in an echo of your cracking voice. Then, he starts to work you, adding a second finger until you wail through your gagged mouth. His entire arm is put to work, body pressing incredibly closer, as he soaks in your face twisted in pain and pleasure.
This is so much better than what he imagined. And he has had quite the imagination, from the moment you appeared in his life. All the times he would zone out during a meeting, letting you talk to Strahm about a new discovery in the case, while he let his mind wonder. It was torture, pure and simple. There were points where he couldn't be left alone in his office without his pants tightening. Horrible, awful feelings, all of which were your fault.
His fingers curl into you, and for a second you swear you can see stars flying across your vision. He notices the sudden change, and doubles the efforts at hitting thet exact spot over, and over again until your legs start shaking. His leather-clad thumb presses tightly into your bundle of nerves, bordering on overstimulation. While his right hand brings you closer to your release, his left one grabs every inch of flesh it can find, fondling with your breasts, squeezing your throat, playing with your blushed cheeks. The rubber of the pig mask is cold against your collarbones, as the man presses his weight to your front, as if he wants to bury himself into your chest.
No one can hear your screams, no one except Hoffman, and he commits every note to memory. Then, your voice snuffs out completely, as your entire body tenses so much, he's actually concerned you'll free yourself from the binds. Your release sneaks up on you and seizes your body in a sudden chokehold. For a moment, you can't breathe, teeth grinding against each other. God, it's been an embarrassingly long time ago since you've had even a resemblance of an orgasm like this one.
Hoffman feels wetness cover his entire palm, coming towards his arm. You're breathing heavily, when he slides his fingers out of you, the leather gloves shining with a souvenir of your altercation. He straightens himself above you, knees cracking as he does. Then, for a moment he just stands there, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, as he huffs under the mask. With heavy eyelids, you watch, as the man lifts it ever so slightly. Your vision is blurry, but your stomach still does a flip, when you see an outline of his tongue darting out to taste you. Then, the mask is back all the way on, and the reality of your circumstance becomes clear once again.
To his credit, he gives you a couple of minutes to gather yourself, as much as you can in this situation. Cold air makes you squirm in your spot, as you feel the stickiness of your release coat your thighs. Then, the man produces a small casette player from his pocket, presses start, and throws it between your still open legs. He's out of the room before the recording even starts and you're left alone to fight. Or to die.
***
- When I've put my hands in the boxes and pressed the buttons, knives came out from the armrests - you recount, voice steady despite the chills running up your back. - I had to fill the beaker with my blood, then the restraints would give away and the door would open.
- What was your lesson about? - Hoffman asks, a certain smugness to him, one, that makes you shift in your seat.
For a second you were worried, that he deduced what has truly happened from your expression. Perhaps he could read minds, and he discovered you've been thinking of him, while getting off on Jigsaw's apprentices hand. You had to physically shake your head to banish the thought. It was hard enough to look him in the face without impossible scenarios looming over you.
- The tape hasn't been recovered? - you ask with a tightness to your voice.
- It has, but I haven't listened to it yet - a lie.
A big, fat, fucking lie, and both him and Strahm know it. The other man turns to him with clear confusion, but Hoffman doesn't bother even acknowledging him. He's too invested in that delicate, blooming fire, which starts to eminate from your eyes. The same flame he has seen back in that room, where you looked at him like you wanted to devour him whole. And you don't even know it.
- He said - you swallow, and Hoffman follows the movements of your throat greedily. - He said I was an enabler, that I bring out the worst in people - another swallow, your gaze never faltering, and Hoffman feels his mouth run dry - That I revel in other's misery.
- That's not true - Strahm jumps towards you, ready to reassure, to be the gentle hand you undoubtedly need.
- I stabbed the fucker in the foot with my stiletto - your voice breaks, and Strahm pulls away with an unreadable expression.
- And one more thing...
Hoffman turns fully towards you, hands running up and down your calf, as if he's trying to massage the memories back to your brain, make you think of how you fell apart on those exact fingers. The thrill of having you here, so close to the truth is unlike anything he's ever felt.
- I know what he smells like.
Admittedly it's a small thing, an inconsiderable detail, that will most likely help no one. Still, the sheer tone of voice in which you've said it forces Hoffman to make a detour to his house, between the hospital and the police station. There, he takes a black garbage bag and throws away every single piece of cologne he can find in his house.
Except one. A small sample he remembers using that very night. He stores it in his cupboard, right next to his bed, a small reminder of what has transpired between you both. Balancing his work life and his secret identity has never been easy, but now... He's almost tempted to throw it all away if it means looking into your tear stained eyes again.
#mark hoffman x reader#saw x reader#mark hoffman#woop woop thats the sound of the police#woop woop thats the sound of the beast#my writing#saw franchise#saw
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Me,U, Your brother, &Your Forehead.. (Ran Haitani/F.reader)
*Au-.. ish?
*FIRST TEASE REQUEST!! (Wattpad)
*Slight NSFW/ Cockblock Rindou.
*Drug use
*Crack on crack.
*Never proof read! Live dangerously!
-------------------------------------------
Living next to the Haitani's had its ups and downs.
Downs included: Waking up from a much needed nap or dead sleep to hear Rindou on his DJ set. He was good but honestly, not "Oh cool! We're partying at 3am?" good. Not really "I have a mad hangover but keep playing!" good..
Other times you'd hear a bunch of thuds and Ran yelling. Throwing a fit about not getting his way or throwing dudes around... Well you hoped it was dudes? Not some poor girl getting her guts liquidified.
Rip..
And don't get me started on all the sketchy shit they have going on in their house..
But they weren't all too bad you guessed. Sure they were loud, nosey, a little mean.
But the good part was..
"What are you doing outside? Looking all sad and shit."
You rolled your eyes at the sleepy purple ones staring you down. You had tried to hide from everyone. Curling up in the hammock in back of your house-- just to get some air, some time to think..
But somehow it was always Ran who sniffed you out... Especially when he wanted something.
Shrugging you let out a sigh. "Just sitting. What are you doing outside? Shouldn't you be asleep like always?"
Ran copied you. "Can't sleep." He eyed your slouched figure. Hunchback of Notre Dame looking ass, but he noticed you weren't in your usual homeless wear today-- you looked nice?.. Oh Right! "Hey, wait! I thought you had a date today? That one nerdy guy with the lame glasses?"
You knew who he was talking about and you fought the urge to throw something. "Ugh. A bust... Turns out guys who get good grades and act charming can be assholes too."
That was a shame... Ran had high hopes for that one. (Not really ) "Wanna come over and smoke? Rindou's out-- we can play in his room."
Tempting...
Though any other girl would take that sexually you knew better. Rindou had all the cool gadgets and shit in his space. He didn't let you or Ran touch ANYTHING since you both broke everything you laid your eyes on.
Fuck it..
"Sure."
----------------------
The thick smoke swirled around in the air, making pretty white sheer shapes. The pungent smell of weed seeped into every fiber and surface in Rindou's poor room.
Oops, guess you two forgot to open a window.
After the second joint was lit you and Ran couldn't focus on anything. Not Rins DJ set, not the video game console, not even his laptop that was playing some movie in a language you both didn't know.
Your body was light, your head quiet. All the stress of the day just melted away. Your eyes felt heavy and you were starving! It's a good thing you and Ran had a plate of Chicken between you... While you both laid on the floor.
How did you end up there with a plate of chicken? No fucking idea.. One of you must have fell or laid down. Then the other joined..
Where did the chicken come from? Hell if you knew.. And Ran didn't know either. When did he leave the room to make them? Did he buy it? Where was his wallet?
Ran didn't even remember getting up and making the snack-- did you? You should because you were standing right next to him..
Either way they were warm and the meat was juicy. The best fucking chicken you've had in you life! All crispy and shit..
"What was I saying?"
What? Was he talking? Oh shit-- you were too busy mouth fucking this chicken.
"Uh--"
Ran gasped. "Oh yeah! So yeah. I didn't hit it.."
Oh now you remember! He was trying to make you feel better about your failed date by telling you his.
You shook your head. "Why not? I mean, I don't clam slam myself but she's fucking hot! I'd try the chowder if it was her."
Ran snorted. "She had clitter glitter."
You made a face at the ceiling. "What now?"
Ran took a slow bit out of his chicken. With a full mouth. ".... toilet paper. There were pieces of toilet paper in her coochie down to the crack. It gave me the ick so I made an excuse to leave. Said Rindou was stuck in the dryer.. She actually bought it!"
The laugh you let out. it probably made the windows shake. "You're shitting me?!"
Ran smiled and shook his head no. The proudest look on his face that he actually pulled some shit like that off. "Nope. That girl has the body of a porn star but the brains of a jellyfish. I'd probably have to bubble wrap her if we ever got drunk or high together. I don't want to babysit."
You nodded like you understood what he was saying. No you weren't judging Ran's choice in girls, you really couldn't. Sure he liked girls who were basically walking fuck toys. But you were no better-- You liked guys who were well off academically. You sure as hell weren't.. But if you ever tried to have them partake in your lifestyle? You'd be babysitting too.
...Turns out you both sucked at picking them. They always turned out to be the same-- a waste of time
"Any whoodle toaster strudel-- Say something babe.... You being all quiet is making me paranoid."
Oh shit.. "My bad." You slowly opened your eyes. You hadn't really noticed that you closed them and started drifting off with a half eaten chicken wing in your hand.
You looked up at the ceiling..
Mean purple eyes stared back at you... It sent a shock of fear up your back and you gasped while trying to make the floor swallow you up to hide you from the evil one..
Ran twitched beside you. He was slowly falling asleep too. "What?!"
You saw a blur of blonde and teal. 'Just looking all mad this one..' "Uh...I think Rindou's home."
Ran hummed from his spot. "Oh shit. We should get out of here before he sees us."
You smiled while Rindou scoffed and nudged his brother with his foot. "What the fuck are you guys going in here?! Getting your greasy ass finger prints on my shit!"
Ran sat up. "Oh shit! Grab the children and run!"
Children? Did he mean the fuckin chicken?..
You watched Ran run out (more like stumble out) with the plate of chicken and only one braid still holding on. He yelled after you. "To my room bitch!"
You snorted at the sight. Then it hit you-- you looked at Rindou. "Did that 5 headed hoochie call me a BITCH?"
Rindou nodded but then pointed to the hall. "Out. Before I pop out your joints from their sockets."
You grumbled and rolled before getting up. You grabbed his hand and placed the half eaten wing in it. "For your troubles." Then walked (Ran--stumbled) out.
Rindou rolled his eyes and threw it in his trashcan. "What an idiot.."
-----------
When you walked into Ran's room he was waiting for you on his bed. The window was finally open and let in a cool breeze.
He clicked his tongue when you fell face first into his bed. If this mattress could talk.. There would probably be a few cum stains yelling. "Paapaaa." "Papaa Ran, hold me."
You would normally shoot up and go home to scrub yourself raw-- IF you were sober. But right now.. you were getting tired.
Ran cleared his throat. "So I was thinking--"
You cut him off. "Did it hurt?"
He pushed your head into his mattress a little deeper. But you could hear the smile in his words. "Shut up."
You snorted and motioned for him to go on with your hand.
He took a second but eventually spit it out. "Why don't we just date?"
"Huh?" You turned to see Ran in your bubble. You pushed his face away. "Act like your hairline Haitani and back up a couple inches."
Ran deadpanned. "I'm serious."
You laughed. "Hell no."
He seemed hurt. "Why not?"
You gave him a droll look. "Why not? Why NOT?! You're not boyfriend material Ran."
He held his hands over his heat. Fake ass.. "Ouch! I'm hurting. Kiss me to make it better."
...Oh.
You scoffed. "Damn it Ran! You're just horny. I'm going home."
He stopped you before you could even get up. "No. Seriously.. What's wrong with dating me? You know what you're getting into, you know I'm an asshole already. You already know what kind of person I am and the shit I'm into and I know what kind of person you are. It makes sense right?"
You scrunched up your nose. "That's the problem. We're too much alike. We'll probably fight everyday."
He shook his head and smiled. "So? At least we'll be able to mad fuck after. I last longer when I'm mad."
That was a joke.. he could go on for hours! *Snort*
You were about to tell him to fuck off.
"Just one kiss. If you feel nothing I won't bring it up again. I just wanna see."
It was probably just the weed talking. It couldn't have been that Ran secretly had a thing for you.. nooo. Not that.. It wasn't because he was fed up with watching you waste time on little pussies when he was right there. Just waiting for you to be his.. No it wasn't the weed that gave him enough confidence to do what he's been thinking about.
And it must be the weed that kept you on Ran's bed...
It's the weeds fault you didn't tell him "No." when he asked to kiss you again. And it was the weeds fault you kept on going.-- totally not the way you actually felt comfortable around Ran, and it's not like you found him kinda attractive either..
He was just a friend-- You were his friend--- You both were bad at lying. Couldn't even convince yourselves..
Your mind was buzzing. But so was your body.. and no. It wasn't a bad feeling.
The kiss was sweet and slow. The complete opposite of what you and Ran were really like. You both tried to hide it-- but again, you knew one another so why bother?!
+++++
Underwear was the only modestly you and Ran had on right now. You were pretty sure you ripped his shirt in two-- that's okay. Your bra was fucked too.
It's funny.. You both had gotten high and drunk together hundreds of times. You've hung out just for the hell of it, hell you even napped together sometimes! Why did you both wait so long to do this?
Your back arched when Ran's fingers curled deep inside you. His thumb drawing tight figure eights on your slippery clit.
Rindou was in the next room.. Poor guy-- Ran shut you with a sloppy kiss. Teeth clanking and tongues rolling. But in reality, he didn't want his little brother to hear the sounds that were only meant for him. He was the most greedy out of the two anyway.
Geez possessive already?
He couldn't help it. His dick was hard and up against your thigh. It hasn't even felt the squeeze of your soft walls yet and he was losing his mind. Should he be embarrassed of all the pre cum that soaked though his underwear and onto your skin? Probably-- but your pussy around his fingers made his brain slower than the weed ever could.
He let out a groan when your cunt began to flutter and grip at his fingers. Your thighs began to twitch and you nails dug into the skin of his arm and back before your tried to push him away.
He's heard stories... That's probably why he wanted you so bad but-- (That's what he told himself..)
His speed picked up and he pushed against that soft spot deep inside everytime he shoved his fingers in. He wanted to keep you quiet but found himself lost in the way you sounded.. The way his name came out, a tone of pleasure-- desperation, instead of annoyance.
He could get used to this..
You let out a pornographic like moans that he began to mock but quickly they became real and breathy just like yours.
Clear liquid began to gush out of you and Ran's never been so happy to have his mattress ruined.
He couldn't wait anymore. His cock was stiff and beginning to hurt. Your underwear was yanked off from the middle of your legs. His was already gone..
You felt a little shy while he spread you wider for him. He was just staring..
"What? I have clitter glitter too?"
He smiled. "You're glittering with something else. I don't really wanna waste it."
Before you could ask.
His face was between your thighs. Your fingers tangled in his hair. That braid that was hanging on for dear life gave up it's battle long ago. You hardly saw him with his hair down, but it was doing something to you..
Especially when he looked up and groaned into your pussy. Like he was a starved man and eating his very last meal all at the same time.
He finally came up for air. "Can I fuck you now?"
You shrugged. "Sure. I'm just here enjoying my time until you man up and shove it in."
Ran wanted to argue but he was getting desperate.( he wasn't going to tell you that.) But he did tell himself you were just as needy. Especially since you were quick to wrap your legs around him when he climb up.
One more kiss-- Ran hissed when he lined himself up to your entrance. His head was the only inches he had in-- why were you still so tight? What was wrong with you?
He was going to have to shove himself in. Eh, he'd feel bad about it later---
+++++
Ran's room door swung open...
Rindou walked in. He didn't even seem bothered that you literally threw Ran off of you and covered yourself with his bedsheets.
Ran was so red! Rindou wanted to laugh but held it in.
"What the fuck Rin?! I'm going to beat your ass!"
He ignored his brother and looked at you. "So, quick question. You think having a bubble machine at one of my gigs is a good move or?"
..... Was he fucking serious? Your high was dying a bit-- Did you really almost fuck Ran? WTF?
You shook your head and leaned back on his headboard. "Uh.. What?"
Rindou rolled his eyes while Ran was just flabbergasted. Were you really answering Rindou's stupid questions.
"Bubbles? I was asked if I could DJ at some rave."
You let out a little "oh.." before you perked up. "A rave you say? What kind of bubbles? Because if I were you, I'd get some neon colored solution so it would look trippy under the black lights."
You two began to talk like Ran wasn't naked on the floor and you weren't naked in his bed.
(Rin) "Wanna go with me?"
You tilted your head. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "Yeah."
You liked to dance.. "When?"
He took out his phone. "In like an hour. You can be my dancer and be with me on stage if you want?"
"Oh hell yeah!" Both brothers blinked when you ran out to go get ready. You didn't bother to get dressed or anything! Just wrapped up in Ran's sheets and out the back door.
Rin was the first to break out of his perverted thoughts. Since Ran still had his pants around his ankles. He could use this opportunity..
Rindou stepped up to his big brother. Wearing his stupid smirk.. "Are you mad?"
Hell yeah he was! But Rindou didn't let him say shit.
"I bet you're mad.. But you know what? Do you remember a few summers back? We were bored out of our minds, then suddenly a big orange moving van pulled up?."
Ran was gritting his teeth. "What?-- orange van? The only time we've seen one was when Y/n moved in next door."
Rindou scoffed. " Looks like you haven't completely smoked out your brain. But remember when she stepped out of her parents car? What did I say?-- I called dibs.."
Ran stood up and pulled up his pants. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't care. Get over here so I can bash your face in."
Rindou stepped back and smiled. He was mocking Ran by shaking his finger in his face. "Ah ah.. If you hit my face she'll ask what happened. I'll tell her you did it. She won't talk to you for a good while."
He was right... You always gave him shit and told him to be nicer to Rindou. He protected his baby brother all the time. They were together all the fucking time. How was that being mean?!
Instead of the face Rindou got a good punch to the gut. It had so much force that it actually hurt a little to pee..
Eh, to Rindou-- it was all worth it.. Especially since he had you next to him all night.
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Truth or Dare, part 2
Continued from this post, inspired by a prompt by @kedreeva
———————-
Eddie watches Robin jump up to chase after her best friend. Everyone else is left staring, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. It makes his skin itch.
He exhales into his cupped palm and takes an exaggerated sniff. “Guess I shouldn’t have had those onions for lunch, huh?”
It doesn’t get much of a laugh. With a shrug, he drops back down to his place on the floor, folding his long legs underneath him. He feels off-balance, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting Steve to react that badly.
He plucks at his jeans, worrying the frayed edge of the hole over his right knee, and chances a glance at Gareth. His friend is staring at him with one eyebrow raised pointedly, as if to say See? I told you so.
Which is true. Gareth has been trying to convince him to stay away from Steve Harrington ever since the first day he walked into Eddie’s hospital room and found the other boy sitting by his bedside. Eddie slouches, shoulders curling inward as he looks away. The hole in his jeans starts to unravel a little wider.
Vickie looks uncomfortable. “Should we go after them?”
Gareth snorts rudely. Jeff, ever the peacekeeper, shoots him a warning look and says, “I think maybe we should keep playing. I’m sure they’ll come back when they’re ready.”
The only one that comes back is Robin, sliding into her place in the circle with downcast eyes. Vickie leans over to whisper something in her ear, and Robin shakes her head. She’s clearly upset.
“Steve just had a, uh… migraine. It came on really quickly, so he had to go home.”
She is such a bad liar.
They try to keep playing a few more rounds, but nobody’s heart is in it anymore. Claire is the first to leave, muttering goodbye to Vickie and ignoring the rest of them. It’s pretty clear she was only suffering their presence to try and get close to Steve.
Good riddance, Eddie thinks with a sneer. He’d barely restrained himself from dumping punch all over the presumptuous little flute player. She really had some nerve - allll the girls had a crush on King Steeeeeve…
Nauseating.
Vickie makes a show of checking her watch next. “I guess it is getting late. My mom wanted me home by 11.”
“Yeah, we should go too,” Eddie says. He waves goodbye to the girls and heads for the door at a fast clip, the rest of the guys following without question.
It seems cooler outside, away from the press of bodies and the stifling air – thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Eddie takes a deep breath. Someone’s been smoking nearby, which makes him crave a cigarette of his own.
“I don’t think we should drive yet,” Jeff says. “That punch was pretty strong. Why don’t we walk down to the diner and get some fries?”
It’s a good idea, so they set off down the sidewalk. Gareth waits for Dave and Jeff to pull ahead a little before drifting close enough to nudge Eddie’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry about that man. I really hoped he would prove me wrong, but…”
Eddie nods, fishing the crumpled pack of Camels out of his back pocket. Steve’s not the guy Eddie thought he was – it’s disappointing, to say the least. If that was his reaction to kissing a guy on a dare, then god knows how he would respond if he ever found out Eddie’s gay.
“Yeah,” he mumbles as he clamps a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets for his lighter.
“But hey, at least you know he’s not worth your time now, right? Better to find out before you fell ass over tits and got your heart broken.”
Too late for that Gare-bear… too late for that.
“Sure.”
Eddie smokes his cigarette, avoiding any further conversation. When they reach the diner, he orders some cheese fries, picking off the crispy bits of cheese before he starts shoving food around the plate to make it look like he’s eating. The guys chat about band practice and the summer D&D campaign, but Eddie doesn’t have much to add.
He keeps replaying the Truth or Dare game in his head. He’s positive he didn’t let anything slip. Eddie is an experienced DM – he’s good at controlling his expressions. He never gives anything away when his players do something to throw him off guard; and he’s sure he didn’t give anything away tonight. So it can’t be his inconvenient crush that made Steve uncomfortable.
Everything was lighthearted and casual… and Steve seemed okay with it at first. Shit, the way he was staring at Eddie’s mouth and licking his lips, it almost seemed like he was into it. Eddie nearly lost it at that point – he had to cover by pretending to swoon when he felt himself start to blush.
Then Eddie moved in for the actual kiss, and Steve pushed him away. He looked at Eddie with this… awful expression on his face and said he couldn’t do it.
Eddie assumed at the time that Steve lost his nerve and got grossed out. But when he pictures the look on Steve’s face in that moment, it doesn’t seem right. What was that expression?
The guys finish up and they all pay for their food. Gareth is clearly still concerned, shooting worried little glances his way as they walk, so Eddie stays between Jeff and Dave on the way back to the cars.
He appreciates his friend’s concern, and he knows Gareth means well, but he really just wants to go home and lick his wounds in private.
Eddie makes it to his van and takes off while Jeff and Gareth are debating whose turn it is to drive Dave home. He cranks the stereo louder than usual, trying to drown out his thoughts with some Black Sabbath, singing along until his voice cracks. His ears are still ringing a little when he creeps into the silent house, navigating by the light Wayne left on in the kitchen.
With the money from the government payout, his uncle doesn’t have to work nights anymore – which means for the first time in his life, Eddie has to be careful not to wake the old man up when he comes home late. He kicks off his Reeboks at the door and tiptoes up the stairs, skipping the creaky step.
He goes through his nighttime routine on autopilot: brushing his teeth, massaging lotion into all his scars, and braiding back his hair. To prevent split ends - a tip he got from Steve “the Hair” Harrington himself (Eddie can’t escape him – thoughts of Steve permeate every aspect of his life at this point).
He changes into an old pair of pajama pants and flops onto the bed, arms and legs stretched out like a starfish. Sleep, he thinks, shutting his eyes firmly. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
Thirty minutes later, he’s still staring up at his shadowed ceiling.
Steve looked… sad. That’s what it was. He looked sad and pained when he said, “I can’t do this.” And he said something else…
Not like this.
Not like this? But that… would imply it was the situation that was the problem. Right? Not the kissing.
“Holy shit!” Eddie yelps, sitting upright so fast his side twinges. He claps a hand over his mouth to prevent any further outbursts.
He assumed the worst, because that’s what he always does – better to be prepared then disappointed; that’s been his motto for years. But Steve didn’t storm off because he was homophobic.
He wanted to kiss Eddie! He must have – just not in front of all their friends. Not as part of a game, or as a joke.
Eddie jumps out of bed and starts to pace, filled with a restless, almost manic energy. He’s worried about Steve - wishing he’d gone after the other boy right away, at the party. Is he still upset? He looked upset.
Eddie considers the phone – he even picks up the receiver and starts to dial Steve’s number, before he gets a grip and hangs up. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, he can’t call this late; Steve would probably panic and assume someone had been hurt.
When he can’t take it anymore, Eddie decides to go for a drive. He grabs Wayne’s keys instead of his own – the truck is quieter than his old rattletrap of a van, and less conspicuous. He drives aimlessly, taking random side-streets and circling cul-de-sacs; only to wind up in front of Steve’s house.
There are lights on inside.
Eddie pulls into the driveway and parks the truck. He contemplates the house for a while, nearly changing his mind twice before he finally gets out and makes his way to the front door. He knocks – not too loudly, just in case Steve is sleeping (even though the lights are on).
It takes less than a minute for Steve to come to the door; long enough for Eddie to realize he’s still in his pajamas – too fast for him to chicken out and run back to the truck.
Steve looks exhausted: his hair is messier than Eddie’s ever seen it before, and the soft skin around his eyes appears swollen and tender. It hurts Eddie’s heart to see it.
Steve watches him cautiously. “Eddie? What are you doing here – is everything okay?”
“You said… not like this,” Eddie says abruptly. He cringes at the blunt approach – he’s usually better at thinking on his feet than this.
“Eddie…”
“I just want to understand Steve. Please? What did you mean?”
Steve gnaws at his bottom lip before sighing heavily. “I like you Eddie. Like, romantically. I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now. But I couldn’t do it… if it wasn’t for real.” He drags his hands roughly through his hair, mussing it up even more. “I’m so tired of being King Steve – pretending like meaningless sex and drunk make outs are enough, falling in love with people who don’t love me back… I can’t do it anymore.”
Eddie is reeling. He doesn’t know what to focus on first. Steve likes him? Romantically?! And he’s wanted to kiss him for weeks. Eddie might need to sit down.
Steve is chewing at his lip again – he’ll draw blood if he keeps it up. He looks so hesitant, so uncharacteristically insecure.
Because you’re standing here like an idiot after he spilled his heart out to you, Eddie thinks. Say something!
“Steve… Truth or Dare.”
“What?”
“Pick one.”
Steve looks like he’s thinking about shutting the door in Eddie’s face. Finally he says, “Truth,” in a grudging tone.
According to the game, Eddie should ask Steve a question. But Steve has been truthful enough tonight – it’s Eddie’s turn now.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you a lot longer than just a few weeks. Probably since I saw you tear that demobat apart. But it was in the hospital - when you came to visit every day, looking after me and Max and the rest of the kids – I think that’s when I fell in love.”
The tiniest little, “Oh,” escapes Steve’s mouth. Eddie has a few seconds to worry that the love confession was too much - and then a smile replaces Steve’s look of shock, dawning bright and beautiful.
There’s no more pretense required when they come together, lips meeting softly.
Eddie is so glad that Steve stopped him at the party. Because now they have this moment, this perfect moment – standing in the silvered dark, two souls alone together under the moon. He gets to enjoy the warm press of Steve’s lips against his without any prying eyes or teasing; gets to slide his fingers daringly under the hem of Steve’s thin sleep shirt.
Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp of laughter when Eddie hits a ticklish spot just below his ribs. They pause to smile at one another, foreheads pressed together.
“Truth or Dare,” Steve says.
“Well, truth has been a pretty good choice so far…”
Steve reaches up to press a gentle palm against Eddie’s cheek, scraping his thumb over the stubble. “I love you too.”
Truth or Dare is officially Eddie’s new favorite game.
————————-
Tag list (I tried to include everyone that requested a tag - apologies if I missed anyone)
@manycoloureddays @vecnuthy @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @proficientatfreakness @sadcanadianwinter @farfaras @makewavesandwar @grtwdsmwhr @xwildangel @electrick-marionnett @swimmingbirdrunningrock
#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington/eddie munson#my writing#several people were excited for this second part#I really really hope I didn’t let anyone down#😬🫣
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Marooned: Chapter 22
Kid x FemReader X Killer
Warnings: Briefly suggestive?
Changing Tides
There was no land in sight when you went out on deck. In fact, the wind was whipping at the sails and the Victoria Punk was speeding along. You looked around deck, "WHERE IS HE?!" The crew moved out of your way hastily as you stormed after your target. A few weakly put up their pointer fingers in the direction of his workshop. It was a cardinal sin to barge in without being invited. The crew all seemed to tense at once when you marched towards it and kicked the door open, slamming it behind you.
"WHO-" Kid looked up from what he was doing, to find you already eye to eye with him, leaning over his workbench.
"Why am I on this fuckin ship again, Kid?!" You slammed your hands down on the table. "You could have left me somewhere! Or waited to boot me off before you left!"
He pushed his goggles up to rest on his forehead. He seemed to take in a deep breath before he spoke, like he was trying not to yell. "First of all, I told ya that my girls would have been upset with me if I left ya all crispy. Second, did ya want me to wait until the island was crawling with marines?!" Kid tugged your sleeve to shift your hand away from what he was working on. "But if ya WANT to be caught so bad, I'LL TURN THE WHOLE DAMN SHIP AROUND!"
"IF I'M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN SHIP FOR ANOTHER HOWEVER MANY WEEKS, I'M GOING TO LOSE MY CHANCE TO KILL THAT BASTARD, YOU FUCKIN SMARTASS." You pulled his goggles and let them snap against his head. "I need to find a ship and get after him!"
Kid rubbed his forehead. "Yeah?! And you think yer gonna find a crew?!" He couldn't hold himself back from adding, "That didn't work out well for ya the first time, did it, Rotten?"
The force with which you jumped over the table knocked him backwards out of his seat. Kid was easily the person who made you see red the fastest. "SHUT YOUR FUCKIN MOUTH!" Both of your hands together didn't fit around his neck. You pushed down with your full body weight, knees on either side of his chest. "STUPID FUCKIN THICK NECK TO HOLD UP YOUR STUPID FUCKIN BIG HEAD!" You growled out of frustration.
"FER MY BIG FUCKIN BRAIN," Kid cackled, slightly raspy from your grip. He wasn't even trying to stop you. His hands were behind his head, totally unbothered by your assault. That only served to make you more mad. Kid could tell you were about to really let him have it. Relenting, he admitted, "As much as I'm enjoying this, ya can calm yer pretty little ass down." Your eyes narrowed. "We're already in pursuit. Ya think I would let them get away with kidnapping my crew?"
"Why didn't you just say that?!" You eased up on your grip.
"And miss this view?" Kid snickered. He looked you up and down. "Yer hot when yer mad." He reached to grab your chin and you swatted his hand away. That didn't seem to phase him as the same hand grabbed your thigh. "If ya just scoot down a bit I got somethin for ya ta sit on," Kid licked his lips.
His grip released you quite quickly when you brought a fist full of armament haki down into his sternum. "Fuck you, Kid," you growled, watching him cough and roll around on the floor. You left his workshop just as huffy as you went in, though now you were conflicted. Now, you weren't sure if you were mad at him or not, if you were enemies or not, and worst of all, if you were horny for him or not. Him and his stupid fuckin big co-.
Quincy's vice-like embrace cut your thoughts off from going any further. "Y/N! You're okay!" She rocked you both back and forth until you gently pushed her back.
"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at her. "Thanks for the concern. And you guys, all good?"
Quincy grinned, "Only thanks to you!" She grabbed your hand and pulled you to follow her. "Come on. We wanna show you something."
She tugged you along down to the women's quarters and very proudly presented an empty bunk to you. You gave her a questioning look.
"It's your bunk!" She was practically glowing.
"Oh... wow..." You didn't know what to say. You had no plans to stay here long-term, but you didn't want to disappoint her.
She rolled her eyes at you. "I know you're not staying." She put air quotes around 'not staying'. "Sleep here with us instead of alone up there." She added, with a sly grin, "Or in the captain's quarters."
You scoffed, "Absolutely not. He can kiss my ass."
"I bet you'd like that."
You shrugged. "Maybe I would," you stuck your tongue out at her playfully, before smiling. "Thanks, Quincy. That was... actually pretty nice of you guys."
______________________________________________________________
Sleep escaped you. Or maybe you were fighting it. The nightmares you used to have faded over time, and now they were back in full force with recent events. You leaned against Mini in the mouth of the skull at the ship's bow, staring out over the sea. The black waves lapped at the ship, the only sign of their presence was the sound of them against the wood and the occasional flash as the moon's light was reflected in your direction. A light, salty breeze sent shivers through you, though it wasn't uncomfortably cold. You didn't take your eyes off the horizon, waiting for the first glint of light or the first emergence of a shape that would mean you were closer to catching up with the enemy.
You had checked your log pose periodically, almost obsessively, to make sure the course of the ship was correct. You were in the weird limbo of being exhausted and yet not able to sleep in any meaningful way, maybe drifting off but waking up less than a second later. Settling on a semi-trance-like state, you rose and fell with Mini's breathing. The thoughts in your head kept circling back to all the ways you were going to make Giemsa suffer, all the ways you could prolong his agony.
Before long, the pink tongues of light that signified dawn licked at the sky. You squinted at the horizon, looking for any sign of a ship. Nothing.
Killer was on his way to the galley to make breakfast, noticing you as he did so. He caught Heat's attention as he came down from the crow's nest. It was shift change. Heat had been on night watch and would sleep after breakfast, while someone took his place in the crow's nest during the day. Killer gestured towards where you sat, "What's up with that?"
Heat shrugged, "She's been sitting there since midnight or so. Just sitting. Hasn't moved."
Killer nodded and dismissed him. He thought about asking you to help him in the kitchen, to get your mind off things, and perhaps for selfish reasons, too. However, after Kid had told him what transpired between the two of you, he figured you were probably still agitated. He didn't know you well, but he did know how much Kid irritated you. In fact, Kid would probably come bother you later on purpose specifically because he knew it irritated you. Killer sighed. He looked your way again before shaking his head and moving on to the kitchen.
Several times over the day, people came by to check up on what you were doing, but they were all deterred by the aura of wrath that sat heavily in the air around you. All but one, that is. Maybe he was even drawn in by it instead of deterred. You tried to ignore him, even though you knew he was there. He made it very hard by moving to stand directly in front of you, facing the sea, same as you were.
"Go. Away."
"Is that any way to talk to yer captain?" He said without turning to look at you.
"No. But you aren't my captain." Mini snorted, punctuating your sentiment. "Get out of the way. I can't see."
Now, he turned to face you, leaning against the railing. "Yer seein the only thing that matters, doll."
You knew he wasn't gonna move. He was trying to make you mad on purpose. It took a considerable effort not to play into his hand. "Whatever." You moved a few feet away from him to stand at the railing and continue your watch.
Kid pulled a flask out and took a drink. He swished it towards you, "Want some?"
The offer was tempting. "No, I want all my senses sharp when I pull his heart out through his ass."
A bellowing laugh came from Kid. "Ya think yer gettin him first? Not a chance in hell. He's mine."
Your head whipped to look at him, "Excuse me?"
"He took my crew. He's mine."
This time, he wasn't even deliberately trying, though you were pissed now. "I know you're fucking joking." You took a step towards him, fist balled like you were prepared to swing, and you were. "He's mine. I've been after him for far longer than you and for a better reason," you snarled.
"And what reason would that be?" Kid challenged.
You turned back towards the sea and said nothing. Your nails dug into the railing. That part of you was for only you to know. Kid was far from the first person you would open up to about that. You channeled your anger back into thinking about all the ways you were going to eviscerate Giemsa.
Kid stood there facing you, watching the knuckles on your hands turn white and your jaw setting. "Fine." Kid said shortly. "Ya get first and last." He held a hand out to shake on it.
That was a shock. "What's the catch?" You were hesitant to accept this strange change of heart.
Kid looked away and waved his hand dismissively. "Nothin. S'only cuz ya saved my crew."
You nodded. That's basically a "thank you". You turned back to the water, without shaking his hand.
He looked around to make sure no one saw him stand there awkwardly holding his hand out and quickly ran his hand through his hair. Kid lingered for a minute longer before turning to leave.
"Kid."
He looked back with a grunt, expecting some smartass remark. The captain grinned, however, when he saw that your finger was pointed in the direction of the horizon, where the faintest dot of a ship sat.
#sorry this took so long! work was busy af#marooned#kid x reader x killer#one piece#killer x reader#massacre soldier killer#eustass kid#eustass kid x reader#x reader#next chapter is planned to be spicy AND gory#possibly at the same time?#hope y'all don't mind
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A Little Murderess °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*
❀ female!murderer!reader x poly!ghostface ❀
Part 9// 2k words
-> Part 8
Warnings: none!
A/N: Second to last chapter; expect chapter 10 to be hella fucking long. This one sets ch10 up, which is why it's so short. Edit: I lied they're both short.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Summary: You've just moved to a new town after the death of your little brother and stepfather with your mother. You're not ashamed of what you do to cope with the deaths; especially when you make two new friends who you might have more in common with than you thought...
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You woke up the next morning, your head buzzing with the high from the kills. You realized you weren’t in your bedroom, and you panicked for a second, before remembering that you hadn’t gone home the night before. You pondered for a minute the consequences if your mother found out about your late-nigth shenanigans, but remembered that you did not give a flying fuck about your mother, and laid back into the comfortable bed.
You weren’t alone. Billy was awake, your body pressed up against his. He was warm, and enveloping you in the most delightful way. Stu was not in the bed—the clunking noise from downstairs suggesting he was attempting to make food. You realized it was Friday and shot up.
“Come back,” Billy murmured, his arms trying to pull you down. “You’re warm.”
“It’s Friday, Billy, we’ve got school—we don’t have a fucking alibi or anything, God we’re so stupid—what are we going to do? I can’t get charged for murder—” He pressed his fingers to your lips, sitting up with you. His arms wrapped around you.
“We won’t get caught. We left no evidence, and our alibi is that we were here the entire night, having a movie night and a few too many drinks. That’s all,” He tried calming you down, but you were having None Of It. You had a gnawing feeling in your stomach that something was seriously wrong, and you weren’t quite sure what. Whatever it was, you knew in your heart something was going to happen, and whatever it was, it was not going to be positive.
“I still feel like something’s wrong,” You said.
“Killer’s remorse, you just ain’t psycho enough,” Billy shrugged, “Stu’s got it sometimes.”
“Really?”
“No,” He started laughing, and he realized you were upset. “Calm down, it’s fine. We’ll eat breakfast and then we can go to school if you really want to. I can imagine they’ve found the bodies by now.”
“Don’t you think it’s suspicious if we go?”
“It’s more suspicious if we show up late, trust me. Now, let’s see what the hell Stu made, I can promise you it won’t be edible,” Billy got out of bed first and finished dressing himself, and went downstairs. You were alone, and your thoughts were racing. You knew something wasn’t right, and you couldn’t quite place it. Why was Tatum alone—why was Sidney alone? Both of them, alone, when a killer was known—it was too perfect. It felt like a set-up. But if it was, wouldn’t they have stopped you before you killed either of them?
“Get your ass here! Stu didn’t kill it!”
“Coming!” Throwing on one of Stu’s shirts, you went downstairs, smelling the vaguely burned eggs that Stu made. You grinned at his attempt to feed the two of you.
“We should do something Saturday night,” Stu said, serving you a plate of eggs and some depressed bacon. “Something sinister.”
“Is there anything we do that isn’t sinister?” You rolled your eyes, eating a bite of egg. It wasn’t bad, surprisingly. A touch crispy, but that was it.
“We watch movies and fuck,” Stu quipped, and you narrowed your eyes at him. He knew that wasn’t what you meant, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I want to go after Dewey and Sidney’s bitchass father,” Billy’s voice was stern, and you and Stu realized that those were the victims—to go against Billy was treason for both of you, and neither of you wanted that.
“Where is her father?” You asked, and both boys grinned at you.
“I suggest you eat your food before we show you that,” Stu said, pointing at your eggs with a fork. “And making sure you won’t gag.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say he’s very nearby,” Stu giggled, shoving more eggs in his mouth. Billy followed suit, and you just did as you were told. You weren’t entirely sure what they were getting at, but the pit in your stomach was worse, and you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was dastardly wrong.
You finished your food, picking your plate and putting it in the sink. Stu asked if the three of you could go and pick up some supplies from the store, and you agreed, on the condition that they don’t take your car. Billy agreed.
The drive to the store was fun. Plotting the Saturday Night Massacre. Billy wondered if the three of you could build a bomb and place it in the school to explode on Monday. You told him that was a rip-off of Heather’s.
The Saturday Night Massacre was going to be a string of murders, all separate from each other. The list of victims was vast, including Dewey, Gale Weathers (Stu thought she would make a killer fuck, but Billy thought she was annoying), Mr. Prescott, Ms. Tate, Sheriff Burke, and a few students that Stu had “personal scores to settle with” (the majority of which were other competing class clowns). In all, you realized your number of victims were ridiculous, especially for a singular night. But, Billy assured you, it was fine—the three of you would operate at the same time, each person getting at least two kills on their own. You assured them that you could handle Gale and Ms. Tate. Stu and Billy would divide the others up.
You were looking forward to the Massacre—you wanted the feeling of something awful to go away, and nothing cleared your head like a good kill. You weren’t sure that Billy and Stu got the same feeling from killing that you did—you think they thought of it as a game, which was probably right; you couldn’t remember when they didn’t refer to their phone calls as a little game.
Upon arriving at the store, Stu and Billy got out, and you got yourself out of the backseat. They went straight for the shovel aisle, getting quite a few of them. You got a few pots of flowers, trees, and generally other plants—it looked a hell of a lot less suspicious. And it wasn’t like you weren’t going to plant the plants, you definitely were, it was just this happened to be a driving factor in the timing of you getting the plants.
Your plans, specifically, were to organize and then commit the murders of Gale, a bitch, and Ms. Tate, a sweet old lady who did nothing wrong specifically to you, but assigned Stu some ridiculously long essay once and he held a grudge on her for that. You realized that, out of the three of you, you had no known motives to kill any of the people that were on your list for tonight, doubling down the chances of the three of you not getting caught. The feeling in your stomach was slipping away, and quickly. The checkout was quick, and you barely had time to notice your surroundings change when you were back in the car, with several plants and shovels surrounding you.
You weren’t speaking, your mind racing with questions and statements that you knew were just going to either get you caught or killed—and both of those prospects were terrifying to you. Before you could even process it, you, Billy, and Stu were sitting at the kitchen table, a notebook in Billy’s hand and pencils scattered everywhere.
“You’ll need to find the addresses for these folks, I know where Neil is and we all know the addresses of…” You weren’t listening, your head filled with buzzing as you felt something beating throughout the house, rhythmically, like a heart. You couldn’t tell if Stu or Billy heard it alongside you, but you were desperate to make the noise stop.
You got up abruptly, your legs moving on their own as you heard the beating continue to happen, the pace matching your own. Yet, it wasn’t your heartbeat that you were hearing—it was someone else’s. You were sure of it. Quizzically, you looked at the confused and concerned faces of Billy and Stu.
“Can you hear that?” You asked, gesturing to the air in front of you. “The heart. I hear it.”
“Is it your own heartbeat, perhaps?” Billy lifted an eyebrow, not amused by your antics. But, they weren’t antics, you clearly heard the beating of a heart. You weren’t crazy, you were certain of that. You pinched yourself on the thigh, flinching when it hurt. You weren’t dreaming. This was real, and it was happening, whether or not your accomplices believed you, you didn’t care. You had to get rid of the heartbeat. You walked along the house, the boys following you as you went from room to room, your butterfly knife in your pocket, as you tried to pick out where the heartbeat was coming from. It was farther away, but then, as you walked towards the kitchen, it got louder, and louder, and louder. Billy and Stu were on your heels, curiously following you as you went through the Macher house.
“Are you good there?” Stu asked, and you emitted no response. You shook your head, motioning again to the invisible sounds of a heartbeat, your mind racing with questions. None of them were going to be answered. With a heavy sigh, you decided to give up on your quest for the sound of the heartbeat. You looked at the boys, and grinned—trying to play it off.
“I thought I heard something there—sorry,” You said, and Billy looked at you as if you weren’t telling him everything, and you weren’t, but you were going to keep that from him. He didn’t need to know.
After a few drinks, you calmed down. The sound of the heartbeat was still there, but you weren’t as concerned with it than when you were sober. Billy and Stu were kissing on the sofa next to you, Billy’s hand down your panties and Stu’s hand on your tits. You weren’t uncomfortable, but you weren’t comfortable—your mind was on something else, and it wasn’t quite what the two were doing. Noticing your dissatisfaction, both boys stopped, and looked at you quizzically.
“I still hear the heart,” You quietly whispered, and the two of them glanced at each other, not particularly understanding. “The heartbeat. I still hear it.”
“Is it because you’re drunk?” Stu suggested, pointing at the beers on the table. “Sometimes Tate used to hear strange things when she was drunk.”
“That’s because we used to make the noises dumbass,” Billy rolled his eyes, his concern on you, not whatever the fuck Stu had to say. “Are you sure you hear it?”
“Yes. It gets louder when I go near the door,” You pointed to the door that led to the basement, and it was true; you heard a heartbeat the closer you got to it. The faces of both boys went white, and they immediately started to sober up.
“Are you positive? You’re not fucking with us?” Stu asked, his eyes pointed at you, inspecting every inch of your body. You felt so cold under his touch, exposed, and like a child—though everything the three of you have done was the farthest thing from child’s play.
“No.”
“Shit, we have—” Billy elbowed Stu in the ribs before Stu said anything else, but you didn’t care.
“Do you want to go home? Maybe you should go home and rest,” Billy was persuasive, and you agreed, and he drove you home, mentioning that you should probably take it easy before the Saturday Night Massacre. You agreed.
Enjoy my writing? Please like, reblog, or follow me! The support is super encouraging; plus i upload new content nearly daily💕
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Can we get headcanons for Hawks and Dabi? Is Dabi even ticklish, as a burnt piece of bacon?
🪶🧡Hawks & Dabi Tkl Headcanons🩵🔥
~And I’m back! Sorry for taking so long to get to my inbox, I live in shame (╥ᆺ╥；). I also got a req for some LOV hcs, so those should be out soon! These two doofs will forever hold a special place in my brain and I love it. Thank you for requesting!~
🩵Dabi🔥
General:
So the crispy-fried parts of him are ticklish, but to a degree. (continued in Lee)
He gives heavy ler-leaning switch vibes. Like, he’s always ready to wreck a bitch, but he’ll occasionally want some goofy affection.
Is incredibly embarrassed to admit he likes tickling. Will deny it until his last breath unless he’s “forced” to admit it.
Lee:
Only light tickling works on the scarred areas, maybe feathers or gentle tracing with nails
Even then, scarred bits only get him giggling softly.
It’s adorable and soft, which is exactly why he’ll kill almost anyone that tries.
He’s gotta be in the perfect mood, or so down-in-the-dumps that he doesn’t give a shit about what anyone does.
Main lers are Hawks, Twice and Toga. If anyone else does it, they’d better be wearing some wool and modacrylic suits.
Rough, airy giggles ranging to full-out cackling, depending on where and how you get him.
His worst spots are his belly button and armpits. If you go to town there, he’ll forget his name in no-time.
Melt spot is the area from under his chin and down to his collarbones.
That whole area is burned, but some gentle affection makes him happier than he’ll ever tell. Especially some tickly kisses to let him know they don’t care that he’s a lil’ crispy around the edges.
Ler:
Good luck and condolences to your diaphram-
He’s got a rough style, preferring to get his lee screeching over mere giggles. (if he cares, though, he’ll do what they prefer)
He’s not picky: he’ll wreck whoever in the main LOV-circle.
Most frequent flyers are Hawks and Twice (see the parallel?). He likes excuses, mainly giving out revenge tickles.
The teasiest bastard to ever walk the Earth. Like, seriously, man has no shame.
“That tickles? Better brace yourself, giggles: it only gets worse from here~” “Huh? Sorry, didn’t hear that over you laughing your ass off.” “Tickle tickle tickle, cutie~”
Would 100% do the Tickle Monster routine, but be genuinely terrifying about it. Long chases, anticipation builders, and raspberries/nibbles when he’s “hungry”
He’ll stop if the lee seriously asks, but other than that, goes until they’re wheezing.
Surprisingly nice aftercare: back rubs, light praise and occasionally cuddles if you’re good with puppy-dog eyes.
🧡Hawks🪶
General:
First off, this man has no shame in admitting he enjoys tickling.
He has “can say the t-word at any time” powers and abuses them whenever possible.
Birdy boy gives straight switch vibes. Down for a tickle fight, no matter what direction it goes for him.
Lee:
A lot more ticklish than most would think. Few actually try it, but those that have are pleasantly surprised.
He gets lee moods frequently, though they’re rarely taken care of. While he can admit he doesn’t mind tickling in general, asking to receive it is a lot harder.
When he is tickled, his laughter is bright and pitchy. That confident voice tends to crack when he’s laughing his feathers off.
Worst spot is his wings for sure, followed by his hips. If you dig into his wingpits, he’s a goner.
Melt spot is his stomach. He loves gentle belly traces, though he can’t handle kisses or nibbles there for too long.
His favorite ler is Dabi. He’s closest with him in the league, and the man knows how to get him laughing.
If the lee mood is really bad, he’ll sit near Dabi with his arms behind his head until he gets the message. If that doesn't work, it's annoying the hell out of the crispy boy.
Ler:
*Ehem*...the wings.
You know he uses those whenever possible to mess with friends and associates.
A stray feather hear, an accidental bring-brush there. Everyone knows he's doing it on purpose, but few actually try to prove it. After he finds out, even fewer succeed.
Purrs smug, teasy little compliments to his lee. Mans is cruel in the best way.
“Those seem like some adorable giggles. Mind sharing?” “What? You don't want me seeing this cute, squishy tummy? I don't see the problem, giggles~” “Loving these thighs of yours. So fun to squeeze and poke— the snorts are the best part!”
He “attacks” Dabi the most, mainly for mood-checks or just to be an ass.
After him, Twice is a regular. Whether it be for comfort after a “splitting” headache or just because, a few feathers will find their way to the villain.
Hawks doesn't really have a particular style besides “loveable asshole”
Depending on who's getting it, he'll go soft, rough, in the middle, feathers only: whatever the situation calls for.
Mainly cuddly aftercare: hugs, back rubs, a few spare teases, and maybe a snack if you're really drained. Wants to make sure his lee had fun over anything else.
#mha tickle#lee!hawks#ler!hawks#lee!dabi#ler!dabi#sfw tickling community#tickle#sfw tickle headcanons#switch!hawks#switch!dabi#ticklish!hawks#ticklish!dabi#tickle headcanons#my hero academia tickle#bnha tickle#ticklish!keigo#ticklish!touya
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A Touch of Comfort
Series: The Boys
Pairing: Black Noir/Reader
Summary: Oh No, was that Vought’s intimidating assassin crying? Wonder what happens after? Click Here to watch the heartwarming extra scene from Episode 3 of Season 2 of the Boys!
Walking through the corridors of Vought Tower was always a roll of the dice. Regular employees might be lucky enough to not witness or be the victim of any supe creepiness. Might being the key word here. It's a game of "what will you witness today?" And that game depends on which Seven Supe member you would walk by.
Maeve and Starlight were pretty normal. Most you'd see were frustrated, exasperated, or mad expressions from them. They might say hi every once in a while. So pretty nice actually. A-train was the same, often minding his own business and/or snacking. Says Hey sometimes too. Although, you've caught him checking you a few times...and he has hit on you before. Thankfully he was pretty good at flirting so it was never awkward.
The Deep…was different. Cringey, really. He'd try to joke and act cool with random employees to get brownie points. A way to up his popularity. You've been a victim to his try hard bottom bitch behavior a few times. Especially when Homelander was around. Ugh.
Homelander.
He was the worst one to run into. Sometimes he was 'pleasant'. Other times, he would be brooding and a little maniacal. He'd either be in the mood to give you an ego stroking speech or make some vulgar and harassing comments. Every interaction was unnerving. You hated seeing his crispy ass eyes.
As you tried to quickly make it to the lab, you wondered if you would witness something today. And which supe it would be this time. Rounding the bend towards the Seven head bust statues, you see Black Noir slumped against the wall with his phone in his hands.
Slowing down to a tortoise-like pace , you pondered on your previous knowledge about him. He was always quiet. To himself. You never witnessed anything bad when passing by him before. The only interaction you've had was dropping something and him picking it up for you. He was intimidating but nice.
Now looking at him, he didn't seem so intimidating.
Was his shoulders shaking? This made you come to a complete stop. As you observe, you begin to hear the soft cries coming from him. Was he crying? He really was.
Dumbfounded and a little sympathetic, you looked on in fascination as the image of the intimidating ninja crumpled in front of you. Scanning the area, there was no one else walking through. It was just you and Noir.
Black Noir is one of your 'favorites' of the Seven. The gossip you heard surrounding him was kind of cute. He would be known to doodle during meetings, be awkward during bougie events, and fall asleep randomly. Your friend in crime analytics even said that he just waits around for some bad guys' information and communicates via notepad. Some of his messages had little emojis drawn on them.
Him crying hits you a little more this time after thinking about it. Caving into the feeling, you did something out of the ordinary. You walked up to Black Noir and crouched down to the right of him.
"Black Noir…..", you said so softly, with a lot more feeling than intended. His body tensed, but he didn't look up.
Trying again you ask, "Black noir, are you okay?" He slightly tilted his head towards you. You, of course, couldn't see his face. But the feeling of 'do I look okay?', radiated from his being. Fair enough. It was a stupid question.
"Okay. Do you need anything?" You ask. To which he said….nothing.
Well, what could you do at that point? He didn't want to be bothered but he obviously needed comfort. You reached out to his back and started softly rubbing the area under his knives. It was what your mom did when you would cry.
He immediately tensed and jerked. Almost as if he were about to hit you. And he might have, if he didn't catch himself. You surprised the hell out of him with that move.
Earving initially wanted you to leave. Buster was giving him some comforting words and you interrupted him. How rude…
He doesn't really know why he's letting this happen. But the rubbing began to feel really nice. So nice. No one has done that for him for….years? Decades? He doesn't remember exactly.
Earving leaned more into your touch and you both sat silently. Minutes passed and he stopped sniffling. Picking his head up, he looks at you and grabs your right hand that was in your lap and squeezes it lightly. Bringing his phone back up, he types out a quick message that says
'Thank you.'
It makes your heart jump a bit and you can't help the smile that grows on your face. You say a quick "you're welcome", as he gets up and starts walking away….until you say
"Do you want to go get ice cream?"
#the boys#black noir#black noir x reader#you know that back rub that just heals your soul#yeah that one
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Vampires, Romance, and Other Dead Things- Ch. 7
a new chapter in the Modern AU astarion x drow bard tav story found HERE! Having set up a counter-ambush to an anticipated attack from the other vampire spawn, now all Zyn has to do is drag his ass onstage. He promised Shadowheart one live show, and afterward they'll draw out the servants of Astarion's mysterious vamp daddy.
But Zyn's used to working alone, and it's starting to cause problems.
...
Certain the Harpers were shadowing her, she’d found a back street that didn’t look like it would damage too much if there was to be a scuffle here. Between a half-dozen old buildings converted into multi-housing units there was an empty lot. There was a No Excavation notice on one of the walls, which explained why it was here. Seemed like this place was over one of the many dangerous structures under Baldur’s Gate.
Maybe caves. Or a drop into the Undercity, like the place by hers she’d dumped Aradin’s corpse down. A scan showed no convenient dumping spots, however. A broken stone bench, a lot of weeds, and a few bags of garbage.
“Hey Vamp Juniors,” she called, stepping dead-center between the buildings, gazing up at the sky. How funny would it be if they were up there, being trailed by invisible Harpers? Stupid vampires. “I’m here for my money! My friends are bringing your guy!”
She stood with her hands in the pockets of her jacket, feeling arrogant enough to do it. They’d cobbled together a pretty good trap. No way they’d figure it out.
“Didn’t you refuse the offer? We were told to get rid of you,” an unfamiliar voice said from the shadows, snide and superior.
He walked out of the shadows with another vampire beside him, scarlet eyes glowing, casual upscale bar look slightly impeded by the…well, by the face. And the hair. They hair was the worst, really, with the poofing, and the– well, it looked like a guy with straight hair had tried to make his look kind of like Astarion’s.
His face also gave that impression, weirdly enough.
Budget Astarion.
Creepy, but also triggering to…certain instincts enhanced by her having reached out and touched misfortune. “I don’t make it a habit to speak with men, they’re too lacking in reason and emotional control.” She turned her attention to the vampire next to him, tiefling woman with scarlet skin. Glowing eyes. Hopefully it meant the vamp daddy could…see out of their eyes or something.
She wanted him to watch.
Angry.
“Do you want him or not?” she asked, noting movement out of the corner of her eye. A trash can lid, jostled, fell to the ground with a thud. Bad luck for them. There were more than two of them, for sure. “And if you try to sneak behind me , I’ll teleport to the roof and fireball this space, so you can either get out here or you can get crispy.”
“Clumsy,” the elven vamp said, voice high and mocking. Almost childish. Okay, maybe she wasn’t the one to speak to. “Sister Dalyria, isn’t that embarrassing for you?”
“Violet, stop,” Great Value Astarion said.
“I was sympathizing. Everyone’s always picking on me,” Violet pouted, crossing her arms under her breasts.
Zyn couldn’t tense up as two more vamps stalked out of the shadows– a wistful-looking elven woman and the long-haired shirtless guy from before. Four was still doable. They were fine. “Okay, so I can see the tropes we’re going with her. Insane child vampire was always a favorite of mine. Bet you’ve got all sorts of creepy dolls!”
Violet glared at her.
“But I can’t quite place you. Comic relief?” she suggested to badly-cloned Astarion.
“Can we kill the prattling bitch, already?” he asked, scoffing and taking a step back.
All of their attention shifted, fast as a hastened monk, as the sound of voices started echoing from where Zyn had come from. All five of them stood poised in silence as the voices and footsteps came closer, people finally emerging from the alley. Astarion was being carried over Karlach’s shoulder.
Through the high of bullying, Zyn felt a tingle of amusement. Of course he’d made Karlach carry him. What a bitch.
“Got him secured?” Zyn called.
“Put me down, you brute~” Astarion called with posture still completely relaxed, voice lilting a little too theatrically. She wouldn’t be surprised if his cheek was propped up in his hand.
How was he a bad liar, on top of everything?
The man was in politics!
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion x tav#tav: zynatheri rivati#vraodt#new chapter!#it's 11k!#sob#it's always bullying petras hours here
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. * . ⋆『𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 』⋆. * .
۵ Kurt Cobain x Reader
↳ Prompt: " I don't even remember why we fight this much,"
↳ Warnings: None, maybe a bit of angst
↳ Word count : 1.4k
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
Krist and Dave were sitting on the couch, both groaning and rolling their eyes at you both.
You and Kurt fought so often, it made you wonder sometimes why they still kept you around. The air was filled with cigarette smoke and thick tension.
"Jesus Christ! God, why don't you ever just shut up?" Kurt yelled.
"Maybe I would if you didn't make those sarcastic ass comments. You know what your fucking doing." you huffed.
"Oh come on, it's not my fault you're so sensitive all the damn time." Kurt rolled his eyes as he took a drag out of his cigarette.
"No you don't get to say that after the shit you just said earlier." Kurt just nodded his head at you laughing to himself.
"Fucking hell why do you guys keep me around and invite me to your shows when all we do is fight?" you whined.
You were tired of all the arguing and yelling already. It was obvious that you and Kurt didn't get along, it was made very clear every time you and the band would have an outing.
It would get especially bad when you guys would start arguing after a show. Kurt was always stressed and tired, which made him irritable.
After your earlier question, they all just stood silent, none of them daring to look your way. Kurt though seemed to take it differently. His face softened from his once angry one as he stared at you.
Their silence was not the response you were expecting. Every second longer that it lasted was awfully painful. They'd all been like family to you and meant so much to you. They were the only friends you could depend on. And the fact that they were not rushing to tell you otherwise was heart wrenching. Even if you did think it was selfish of you to expect.
Your eyes began to well up with tears as your lip began to slightly quiver. You were embarrassed because of your reaction, feeling like a child.
"Maybe you'll all be better off with me. Seems like I'm a burden to all of you.”
You were almost waiting for one of them to say no and reassure you that they did in fact want you there. You held out hope for as long as you could, but it soon became too unbearble.
You stormed out of the room as angrily as you could, but your legs were wobbly, and looking back it must've looked silly to everyone else.But you didn't care. You just needed to get out of there, it felt like the walls were closing in and the room was beginning to swallow you whole.
Tears streamed down your face uncontrollably as you frantically tried looking for an exit. All the crew and personnel didn't fail at staring you down, making you overwhelmed with emotion.Breathing suddenly seemed so difficult. But thankfully, you found the door before you could completely collapse.
You found comfort in the bright red exit sign. As soon as you opened the door, the cold breeze engulfed your shivering body.The wind felt especially icy on your wet cheeks, but you didn't pay much mind to it. Not like you could anyway, as emotions were high.
You placed your back on the freezing brick wall behind you, making your shivering only intensify. The crispy New York breeze was not kind to you.
You were only sporting a striped sweater and some old jeans that you could never bring yourself to throw away. Your thicker layer, left in the room which you had just escaped from.
You clutched your side as you used one hand to reach into your pocket and pull out a cigarette from its box.
You placed it gently between your lips, and searched your pocket for your lighter. You furrowed your brows when you didn't feel it.
"great." you thought.
You sighed before becoming startled by the door swinging open beside you. You turned to look at who it could possibly be, and to your surprise, it was Kurt.
"Why are you here? To mock me even more?" you questioned.
Though, you were shocked to see that he didn't say anything back. He just walked over next to you and copied your actions in laying his back against the wall as well. He looked over at you, and noticed the cigarette resting on your lips.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on, and held it where you could see it, offering to light a cigarette for you. He knew from previous times that you never had a light on reach.
“no. none of that. I came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.
When you finally noticed the warmth near you, your face softened from its once angry one. You contemplated on rejecting his offer, but the thought of a cigarette seemed too good to pass up.
You looked at him wearily before leaning your face to the flame. You gazed up at him and noticed his stare. Your eyes met his for a few seconds, and weirdly, the warmth returned to your body. Y
The cigarette ignited slowly, and the familiar scent of tobacco filled your noise, relaxing you instantly.
His eyes never left your eyes, neither did yours. It almost made you nervous.
"Thanks," you mumbled reluctantly, and looked away. "So why exactly are you here? this isn't like you."
Kurt pressed his head against the wall, looking up towards the sky momentarily before answering.
"I just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing."
You rolled your eyes. You weren't too sure about his sudden change in attitude towards you. It was strange to see him so soft and almost gentle. He'd never shown that side of himself to you, sure you've heard it in his music but never in person.
It was almost oddly tranquil as you both just stood looking at the busy street. The sun had started to set a while ago, and the street lights were on the verge of illumination.
"Krist and Dave are in there looking for you, they're worried, you know." Kurt commented, looking over to you.
You huffed, "Yeah, I'm glad they are," your face crunched lightly, remembering for a moment hat had happened earlier, "that shit you guys did back there was fucking excruciating."
A tear escaped your eye, making his stomach turn.
Kurt dropped his head, looking at his shoves and the pavement surrounding them.
He hesitated before finally speaking. "I'm really sorry."
He almost wanted to damn his education as he couldn't find all the right words that he really wanted to say with all the things caught in his mind. He was amazing with lyrics, a genius even. But now, he really couldn't say anything.
You were surprised, never once in all your arguments had he ever apologized. And it felt genuine.
"You don't know how badly I want to believe you." you confessed.
He nodded his head slightly, but he didn't speak.
There was obvious tension, but it wasn't uncomfortable as one would expect it to be. You both just stayed there, tolerating each other's presence for what may be the first time.
A giggle from him broke the silence and startled you.
"what?" you asked, confused.
"It's nothing, it's just.. I don't even remember why we fight this much." he smiled, rubbing temples, staring at the street before him.
You couldn't help but smile back at him.
"It seems like for the longest time I've been pretending."
This time, you weren't really sure what he was trying to say.
"What do you mean?" you quizzed.
He finally turned his body towards you, arms crossed with a stupid grin.
"What I mean is, I think you're beautiful."
Heat wasted no time in rising to your cheeks, so you sharply turned away from him.
"I realized now that all this time I've been angry towards you is the cause.." He paused. Now, instead of playing scramble in his mind, he was having trouble with picking out the words to say, and he had so many.
"I really like you."
You still wouldn't dare look at him. It all seemed so sudden. But you felt relieved. Almost like a weight had been shed from your body. This was strange, you considered the idea that maybe, you'd wanted this all along.
"I like the way you think, the way you get defensive, and shit, even the way you yell. Maybe that's why I loved arguing with you."
Your heart began to beat faster with every word he let out.
"I know me saying this probably seems stupid but-"
You cut him off by placing your lips on his.
"Shut up and kiss me."
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Fav food of all bots? Or they can't eat human food in yours AU?
Actually they can eat our food too! Ofc they have cybertronian cuisine, but it's hard on earth to get natural energon or plants that are growing only on their planet... so ofc they need to put energon to their diet, but they are mixing it with normal food :DD
Bee's favorite food was usually anything that Ratchet was making for him (ofc when whole team Prime was on earth, because Bee thinks that food on cybertron is less tasty...), but if we are going into more specific food he loves soups like cabbage, sorrel and cucumber soup (kapuśniak, szczawowia i ogórkowa)
Sideswipe likes more bread-like food, likes buns, baguettes and croissants! But his all time favorite is fresh bread with a dark crispy crust (he can eat whole burnt bread from time to time XDDD). He loves when Danny is sometimes going to bakery in a morning, and buys yet warm buns!
Drift has more like favorite type of food and not one dish he likes the most... and it's asian cuisine XDD he is always trying to make as much traditional asian food as it's possible for guy who is searching throw internet looking for recipes XDD
But his all time favorite thing on earth to eat is rice and fish, especially fresh on from sweet water.
He is always so angry at Slipstream and Jetstorm, when they are eating cheetos or doritos, because it's unhealthy for their young bodies... meanwhile once a month he is eating hamburger alone in some disgusting roadside restaurant 50 kilometers from their base XDDDDDDDDDDD he feels always so awful after that
Grimlock likes the most vegetables and fruits! After being decepticon and in full rage he may ate only... 2 or 7 cybertronians (MAYBE!!!)...... he feel nauseous when he has to eat any meat. He loves kicking asses of bad decepticons, but after what has happened to him during the war he will vomit if someone force him to eat flesh.
And because how much his body has been destroyed he needs to get a lot of nutritious...
In Strongarm's case she loves very pasta with sauce! Pasta Puttanesca, Carbonara, Shrimp Fra Diavolo, E V E R Y T H I N G! She would kill, rob or anything else for good pasta that her father was making for her (Magnus)
I can also add that Steeljaw can't cook a shit, so he's favorite food is anything that Thunderhoof will cook for him and biscuits with some tea! Actually Hoofy is cooking for their whole team, besides of Clampdown, he wants him to starve. XD
And Danny is cooking for whole Bee team, he feels much more safer when he's doing that! XDD
#transformers#art#tf#fanart#tf rid15 human au#maccadam#au#human au#human#tf rid15#humanformers#transformers rid2015#transformers robots in disguise#tf rid 2015#bee#bumblebee#drift#jetstorm#slipstream#sides#sideswipe#strongarm#grimlock#danny#steeljaw#steely#thunderhoof#hoofy#underbite#fracture
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Towards the anon talking abt the sin shipteasy stuff,, Yeaghh... Though it might be a translation error? for sin's line against elphelt's instakill. I heard that the original japanese version is something along the lines of "Goodbye childhood"? But I'm not sure, I don't know japanese...
To be honest... Xrd's English translations aren't generally wrong, per se, but the translation team added an "edginess" to a lot of the lines that isn't always there in the original Japanese. Sol's dialog got it really bad, as a quick example. I've complained about his dialog translations before, but the gist is that in Japanese he's usually just annoyed/grumpy, but in English he's often just straight up mean. Compare his official English translations in Strive to Xrd and you'll see what I'm on about. The Strive translations are more faithful.
Anyway, Sin's Magnum Wedding line is another example of this. I found transcriptions of all three possible lines he can say for it so I'll break them all down since I've got them, and I'll translate them more literally than the localization team did. This isn't always the way I translate lines because literal translations can be very clunky in English, I just want to try to get across the feel of the original JP lines.
Off.= Official Translation | SRG=SolRadGuy translation
グッバイ、オレの童心…
Off.: "Farewell... virginity..."
SRG: "Goodbye, my child-like innocence"
The first part here is just "goodbye" written out in katakana. Changing it to "farewell" was a good idea, it flows better. Then Sin uses the rough/casual masculine first person pronoun, "ore," for himself. This last word, 童心 ("doushin"), is where it gets weird. Doushin is like "naivete through being too young to know better." I wasn't able to find anything on JPDB, Jisho, or Weblio that suggested it is/can be used to mean "virginity" like how "innocence" in English can refer to knowledge of sexual things, but that doesn't necessarily mean no one ever uses it that way. That said, I think translating it as "virginity" bends the original meaning a little too far. The Japanese word for "virginity" is VERY close to doushin though, 童貞 ("doutei"). Note the first kanji being the same.
I think a better translation for this line could have been, "Farewell... naiveté..."
These next two lines are completely different in Japanese vs English and I'm too lazy to try to find a video with them to match them up so I'm making an educated guess.
外はサクサク、中はふんわり…
Off.: "I feel like I'm floating on a cloud..."
SRG: "Crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy inside..."
I understand why they completely changed this line in English because directly translated it's... Actually, even in Japanese I'm not sure what Sin is getting at haha. My translation above is really very literal; there isn't a whole lot to break down. "ふんわり" ("funwari") means like gently/airily/fluffily. It's one of those onomatopoeic Japanese words that is difficult to cram into English.
センチメンタル、バイオレンス…！
Off.: "I feel so... at peace..."
SRG: "Sentimental, violence..!"
Sin's speaking English through Japanese in this line. It straight up just says "sentimental" and "violence" in katakana. Not sure why they changed this one in the official translation when it was already technically in English though. Maybe changing it to an idiom like "All's fair in love and war" or something could've worked? I dunno, I'm sure the team probably had their reasons for changing this one so much. Overworked, understaffed, deadlines looming... I get it.
As an additional note: Getting Japanese into English can be a royal pain in the ass. Sometimes it's straight up impossible to get a faithful translation in English and in that case the translator might as well just come up with something different that fits the "vibe" of the Japanese line instead. I don't want this post to come across as a dig towards the translation team. Despite the odd edgy embellishments here and there, the Xrd translation is pretty good. I'm also not a professional translator and have never gone to school for Japanese, so the translation team knows more than me anyway.
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Part two!
Ariana grande did once say, “Cause I see you tryin’, subliminally tryin’.”
(Tw: Violence, gay slur)
@gleek4twd @hardboiledleggs @perseus-notjackson
The next morning, Eddie woke up to the sound of his uncle making toast rather loudly. Sleepily, Eddie walked out to his uncle Wayne holding a plate with burnt and almost not cooked enough to be toast on a plate. “I tried making breakfast.” He coughed. “Thanks. I think I’ll take the less crispy one.” Eddie grabbed the piece of bread that wasn’t the color of charcoal. Wayne laughed, “Alright. You should get dressed, we need to go soon.”
“Sir yes sir!” Eddie saluted as he took a bite out of his toast.
When he arrived at school, Eddie saw a particular someone with neatly styled hair waiting for him. “Oh come on!” Eddie groaned. “What?” Wayne looked at his nephew. “There’s this guy who won’t leave me alone since yesterday,” Eddie stared out of the window at Steve, “And his name is Steve.” He rolled his eyes. “I thought I heard you saying you wanted someone to obsess over you?” Wayne commented. “AAAAND I’m LEAVINGG!” Eddie responded, he gently pushed the car door open with his foot. He could hear Wayne’s distant laughing and saw Steve’s face light up. While Eddie wouldn’t admit it, he did kind of appreciate Steve’s kindness toward him after the whole incident in the classroom.
“So, how are you?” Steve asked.
“Fine. I might need to eat breakfast in the cafeteria.” Eddie answered, looking at the people around them.
“Why’s that? Did you not eat?” Steve asked, worried.
“Well, no, but I just didn’t eat much.” Eddie mumbled.
“I have a couple of protein bars in my bag, if you want one.“ Steve smiled sweetly at Eddie.
“Oh, uhm, no. It’s fine!” He tried to smile back, but Steve wasn’t buying it.
“How about you take one anyways?” Steve winked.
When they arrived at Steve’s locker, he opened his backpack and tossed Eddie a protein bar. He clumsily caught it and nodded, “Uhm, thanks.” Eddie said quietly. “No problem!” Steve replied as he slammed his locker closed.
Throughout the day, Eddie munched on the protein bar, which he came to find out was “Chocolate dipped strawberry” flavored, it wasn’t half bad. And neither was his day so far. Until someone had to come and ruin it. Jason carver. The one moment Eddie wasn’t walking with Steve, he just had to show up. “What’s up, freak?” Jason teased. “Fuck off Jason.” Eddie said. “What’s up your ass today? A vibrator?” Jason quipped. “No, actually, it’s Harrington’s cock.” Eddie replied sarcastically, hoping that Steve wasn’t actually in the vicinity to hear that. “Harrington? Wow, aren’t you bold.” Jason commented. “Yeah, sure. Now piss off, I’m trying to get to class.” Eddie sped up his walking. “The hall’s barely full, dumbass. I don’t think your going anywhere right now.” Jason called, everyone who was there looked at Jason and Eddie. Embarrassment & Jason followed Eddie closely. He was just trying to have an, at least, alright day.
Jason caught up and shoved Eddie against the lockers; his head hit them so hard Eddie thought he was seeing black spots. “Fucking fag.” Jason whispered as he punched Eddie in the face. In a haze, Eddie kneed Jason in the balls and ran for his life. Stumbling around the hall for somewhere to sit or anything that would provide him rest from this hell. He didn’t even realize he fell into Steve’s arms because he was so dizzy. There was some muffled banter Eddie couldn’t hear over his ears ringing, but he could’ve sworn he heard Steve yelling.
As Eddie came back to consciousness, he felt someone touch his wrist. “Eddie?” He heard Steve’s voice say. That’s when he realized he was in the nurses office, which explained the bright lights seeping into his vision. “Your finally awake,” Steve said, “What happened?” He asked, taking his hand away from Eddie’s arm. “I- uh…I don’t remember…” He lied. “Oh okay.” Steve leaned back. “How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?” Eddie questioned. “Well, I missed math and,” Steve checked his watch, “I’m missing half of geography right now.” He said casually. “Oh my god.” Eddie put his face in his hands, “I’m so sorry.” He added. “It’s fine! I really don’t mind.” Steve said sincerely.
Later that day, when they were walking out of school, Steve offered Eddie a ride home. “Nah, I’ll just walk.” Eddie replied, not wanting Steve to know he lived in a trailer park. Steve nodded and got into his car. The only reason Steve walked home with Eddie the day before was because he was driven to school, otherwise, Steve would’ve walked with Eddie this time too.
In the car, it was awkwardly quiet so Steve turned up the radio and “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears was playing. While Steve was humming along to it, he realized something.
Meanwhile, by some dumb luck or a miracle and a half, Eddie had the same song stuck in his head. He also hummed it. The only thing was, Eddie didn’t have to realize anything.
I will make another part, BUT IT’LL BE THE LAST, I SWEAR—
#stranger things#stranger things season 4#steddie#eddie stranger things#steve stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things season four#stranger things series#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things fic#stranger things au
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