#it starts as a sick fic but that isn't the focus
Text
Family introductions
For @blue-soundwaves, merry Christmas!
summary: Danny and Tim have been dating for about a year now, figuring out their relationship between Tim’s vigilante duties and Danny’s Ghost King responsibilities. Danny is taking a small (unauthorized) break from his paperwork to find his bf flat on his ass sick trying to go on patrol. The only way to stop him was to take his place, and Danny was lucky they're the same size.
[Ao3: here!]
Being King of an entire dimension had its perks, the new powers, meeting new (alien!) civilizations and cultures, getting an actual mentor to help him figure everything out. Those were really cool, and oftentimes it was fun to figure out the new powers with said mentor and his friends, but at the moment all Danny could think about was how much it sucked to be king of the Zone.
Why, do you ask?
The paperwork.
Pariah Dark was many things, a tyrant, a conqueror, a fearsome warlord with a look that could melt steel, but he was not a good king. Might be stating the obvious, but ruling with an iron fist does not a just king make, and the evidence was clear in the sheer amount of paperwork the old king left behind. Several filing rooms had been allocated to the pileup since the previous king was forcefully put to rest, and now…
Now it was Danny's problem.
In the three years since he defeated The Mad King, and the two since he took the throne (only part time until he’d finished his human education) the amount of files and requests and notices Danny had had to go through was mind melting, and so far it had only been the ones of most importance! He tried to keep out of the filing rooms as much as possible, partly because the royal record keeper had a system for those rooms that for the half-life of him Danny could not wrap his head around, and partly because the amount of paperwork in those rooms made him want to melt into a puddle and not reform for the next century.
The one thing currently keeping him going while at his royal desk during summer break (other than his friends and family) was his boyfriend. They had met a year and a half ago when Danny had gone to Gotham on a STEM exchange program with Gotham Academy. They started talking after some incorrect statement the teacher had made about electromagnetism that they had both pointed out. From there they had basically spent the two weeks glued to each other, bouncing ideas off one another and creating coffee induced chaos in the science lab.
By the end of the exchange they had swapped contact information and promised each other to keep in contact as much as they could with their hectic schedules, them having important rich boy stuff and Danny with highschool and ghost king work.
A week later Tim had texted asking if he was Phantom.
He responded by asking whether or not he was Red Robin.
A few explanations and it all went downhill from there, them only getting more and more comfortable with each other, texting and calling after patrolls, Danny abusing his newfound portal making power to hop over to Gotham for hangout sessions, then sleep overs, then spending weekends.
It was Tim that eventually asked him out, and Ancients dammit, he was too cute not to say yes.
It went on pretty well after that, Tim telling him about his family and their nightly activities, how he got into the whole thing himself (which Danny just had to laugh at) and all the… feuds he and his brothers have had since then.
Danny personally wanted a few words with his boyfriend's adopted family, just a few, but he respected Tim’s wish to keep their relationship a secret, with Tim explaining that if his family knew he'd never get away from them.
Right now he’d love for that to happen.
Danny was on his second week of summer vacation, and his second week of ghostly paperwork. The Observants had all but whisked him away the first day of break, and the only thing currently saving him from a lecture about staying out late is the fact that his parents don’t keep up with where he goes during the day and his late hours in the office (and sometimes a little help from Clockwork,) keeping him out until everyone was already in bed.
The observants shuffled him from meeting to desk work and back, always keeping an eye on him so he couldn’t just run off. He had no excuse (that they would take) to keep him from working his way through the stacks they deposited on his desk, and made their opinions of his “inconsistent and intolerable” working habits very well known to Danny.
Ancients, he needed a break.
And just as he thought that for the fifth time that hour (was it an hour? Time was so inconsistent in the realms,) the opportunity for a breather presented itself. Danny was halfway through his most recent stack when the door opened. Another Observant than the ones that had been keeping an eye on him had barged in, fuming about something going on at the Tribunal HQ. They screeched at each other for what must have been half an hour, talking “impossibilities” and “needing to speak to Clockwork about this” before giving him a stern “don’t you dare get up from that chair,” then racing off to do their freaky hivemind shouting match between themselves.
Needless to say Danny didn’t listen to them.
First thing to do was stretch. With the Observants breathing down his neck, Danny barely had any room to move. He felt like being back in school, having to ask for a stretch or bathroom break, not to mention the amount of grumbling from Bert, the Observant currently watching him, that Danny very quickly learned to tune out.
Lacing his fingers and lifting his arms above his head, Danny heard more than a few sickeningly satisfying pops run down his back, even a few in his neck afterwards. He did a few stretches, even sneaking in a few yoga poses Jazz had shown him before, and with each different move he felt something stretch or unstiffen, even a few more satisfying pops here and there.
Next thing on the agenda? Get the hell out of the Realms.
Specifically, to Tim’s place. The Observants would probably check Amity first when they find him gone, and he wanted as much time as he could get out of this. Tim doesn’t usually mind his impromptu visits, and even if he’s out on patrol just getting to see him when he comes back would be nice.
Even with the paperwork Danny had been finding ways to keep in contact, a missive here, a text there. Not a lot, but they were both busy, and they both knew that.
It was with great joy that Danny grabbed the folds of reality and tore, creating a tear in space big enough for him to step through to his favourtie humans home. Reasserting his heartbeat with his human form Danny found himself in the darkness of the upstairs bathroom. It made sense for the bathroom to be dark given the time, but the presence in the apartment gave him pause. The little digital clock on the bathroom shelf indicated that Tim should be on patrol by now, if not just leaving, but the human's presence was down in the living room.
“Timmy?” Danny called out into the equally dark apartment as he opened the bathroom door. A low groan emanating from where Danny could feel Tim’s presence didn’t ease his worry as Danny crept his way through the upper floor and down the stairs to find his boyfriend.
Another groan had Danny rushing down the rest of the flight of stairs, jumping the last three and turning to the living room. Shuffling behind the couch had Danny running around the corner to find Tim, in full Red Robin uniform, struggling to get up off the floor on weak legs.
“Tim!” Danny rushed over to catch a shaking Tim from collapsing again, grabbing him by the cape before pulling his human into his arms. He was pale and sweating, with the vigilantes mask crumpled as he screwed his eyes shut with nausea at the sudden altitude shift.
"Danny?" Tim groaned as he cracked one eye open. Danny was frantically checking the bird over, peeling his mask off to check his eyes, placing fingers to his neck to read his pulse, and placing the back of his hand against the human's forehead to check his temperature. Tim made a small sigh at cooled contact, and while Danny noticed he was burning up, it wasn't to a dangerous degree. Right now it just seemed as though Tim had caught a really bad cold.
"Tim, what the hell? Why are you trying to scare me to full death by trying to go tour the realms in your costume‽" Danny whisper-shouted to the vigilante in his arms, noting the bird's costume was out of place in certain spots. Did he put his costume on like this?
The bird groaned as he tried to sit up, but the grip Danny still had on his cape prevented it.
"Gotta… go, Bats called… bigg breakout a’… Arkham… nnneed to help…" With the way Tim was shaking, he couldn't help anyone, let alone leave the apartment. Another attempt at getting up had Danny sighing at his boyfriends antics, what's with these Gotham vigilantes' and their need for self sacrificing?
"Tim, you look halfway to your grave, I'm not letting you out on patrol, not like this," gently the half-ghost repositioned his grip on the human's shoulders, snaking his other arm around his knees and picking the teen up bridal-style. With another glance down he started walking, softly adding in, "how did you even get up here? A light breeze would make you crumple."
Dazedly Tim made a confused grunt, seemingly only realizing he was not, in fact, in The Nest downstairs and actually in his living room. The wrinkles between his eyebrows would be cute if he wasn't looking about as dead as Danny was.
"Wazn… this bad… before-" a dry cough wracked through his frame, causing Danny to readjust his grip slightly. "-fought Ivvy yeserday… got hit… didn think it wass 'nything to worry 'bout… till now…" he trailed off as they reached his bedroom, watching with half lidded eyes as Danny carefully opened and maneuvered them through the door and striding over to place Tim down on the bed.
As Danny started taking Tims cape from around his shoulder he grabbed Danny by the arm.
“Nnnoooo… Batz’l kill mee.. f’I don go outt…” Tim whined, trying to simultaneously push danny off and prop himself up, but his shaky arms barely held his weight and before long he was back on the bed with his cape removed.
“Tim, you look like shit,” the ghost boy replied bluntly, “you really think you'll be able to help anyone like this?”
Nothing but a soft grunt came from the bed bound bird as Danny folded up his boyfriends cape, setting it down lightly on the dresser nearby. He turned around to see his boyfriend covering his eyes with his arm… Was he crying?
“Boo? Boo what's wrong?” Walking back over he saw his boyfriend was indeed tearing up, using his arm to try and hide the damp rolling down his cheeks and sniffling softly. Danny kneeled next to the bed and took the arm, revealing Tim, crying and pouting like a child. It was so cute, Danny had to resist taking a picture.
“Bruce’ll be mad…” he heard the sick teen mumble softly. Danny had to sigh, why was Tim suddenly acting like a five year old? Was it because of what he got hit with yesterday? Tim had said there was an Arkham breakout, so people could be in danger if they didn’t have enough people to round all the villains up, but Tim couldn’t be left alone… But but if he went out he could maybe find Ivy and ask her for an antidote, but but but he couldn’t go out as Phantom because he still hadn’t been introduced to the family yet…
Ugh, this was giving him a headache.
Stewing in his own head wouldn’t do any good, Tim was supposed to be out for patrol by now. Danny absently looked around the spacious bedroom, eyes landing on nothing until he spotted the folded cape on the dresser.
He and Tim shared quite a few characteristics, height, figure, relative facial features…
A plan formed in Danny’s head as he stood up, a half assed, crazy plan, but one that just might work. Quickly he started stripping Tim of his Red Robin gear, knowing roughly how to take it off and put it on from the few times he had shadowed Tim on his patrol. He replaced the costume with a loose sleep shirt and shorts, then just as quickly stripped himself. A small gasp had him stop halfway through, turning to see Tim with clearer eyes. Tim was looking at him put on the costume. A blush crept onto Danny’s face for a reason he couldn’t figure out, but it had stalled him long enough for Tim to regain some rational speech.
“Danny… what are you doing?” Tim asked, looking absolutely and utterly confused, cute.
“What does it look like I’m doing Polaris? I’m getting Red Robin ready for patrol,” he turned back to finish putting on the costume. It fit him well, with only a few minor adjustments to his form he filled it out nicely. All zipped up and caped, he didn’t look that much different to Tim, and he spun around to show off, even giving little jazz hands as he faced Tim.
Danny couldn’t tell if the blush on the boy's face was due to the fever or the pet-name, but the calculating look was aimed at him nonetheless.
“How do I look, Starlight? Pretty similar?” Danny gave his best smile, even at the near glare his boyfriend was scrutinizing him with. He really hoped the glare was due to hazy vision and not him being mad.
“Bruce’ll find out,” Tim grumbled, but didn’t deny he looked the part.
“Only if we’re together too long. I feel like I know you well enough to act like you in front of them for a little,” he replied humorously as he applied the domino mask to his own face. It didn’t restrict his vision as much as he thought it would, and the readouts streaming into the lenses was pretty useful, if a bit distracting.
“‘Nd the hair?” Tim questioned hoarsely, looking at the mop of black locks that was too short to fall like Tim’s but too long to say he just had it cut.
That was easily fixed with Danny running his fingers through his hair, using the little trick to help show off his form changing and growing at a thought. When his hand dropped he looked like Tim, if Tim had gone through a windstorm and came out with messy hair. The mess was fixed, not entirely but enough, for Danny to look near identical with the mask on.
Another calculating look over from Tim and he seemed to pass his test.
“‘Nd… the voice?”
“A little bit of precise muscle control and I’m peachy,” Danny replied easily in Tim’s voice. Sure, he’s been told by Sam and Tucker that the voice changing was creepy, but for this?
For this it works perfectly.
Tim made a similar face to his friends when he had showed off the voice manipulation, but made a grunt of approval at the display. A nod and Danny was making another swirling green vortex to his castle, popping his head through to a hallway. Sticking an arm through Danny pulled a very startled footmen through the portal into the bedroom.
“You, you aren’t busy, are you?” He asked the footman in ghost speak.
If the ghost wasn’t startled at being pulled into the human world, they were with his lord addressing him personally.
“N-no my lord! I am here to serve!” They hastily replied with a deep bow.
“Good, I’d like you to watch over my human for a while. He’s bedridden with illness and I’m going to be taking over his duties for the night so he doesn’t get the crap beaten out of him by his boss,” Danny waved off the bow, rolling his eyes at another rejection of his order to not bow at him.
The footman looked between the bedridden human and his king in panic. “But my lord, I couldn’t possibly take care of a human! It’s been too long since I was alive for me to remember how to care for a sick mortal, and if I were to accidentally damage them my crime would surely be severe!”
Danny couldn’t stop the chuckle that came from his throat as he replied “Don’t worry, too much. I just need you to keep a water glass full and come get me if he looks like he’s getting worse.”
Danny tilted to look at Tim with a pointed glare, “you will stay in bed and sleep to get better, right Tim?”
A grumble and wave as his human turned away from him was as good enough a reply as he was going to get. So he quickly phased through to the kitchen to swipe a glass, led the footman, Markov, to the bathroom to show him how to use the tap on the sink, then he was racing across the rooftops to where the bat family usually assembles for missions.
So, maybe Danny didn’t entirely think his plan through when he first thought of it.
Why?
The bats were very intimidating up close.
Danny had made it to the rendezvous rooftop just fine, even using the grapple to propel himself across the city instead of flying like he wanted to! (He really wanted to, controlled falling with only a tiny cable to keep him from going splat? He may be self sacrificial but not suicidal.) Had to keep up the Red Robin persona, after all. By the time he had made it to the predestined rooftop the rest of the clan had already arrived and were just barely waiting for him. Barely.
“The hell were you, Replacement?” The guy in the leather jacket and death stank snapped at him. Huh, Danny thought Red Hood didn’t like working with Tim, but that question almost made it seem like the antihero was worried for him. “Dickwing here wouldn’t shut up about you not being here early, and we were the ones that had to deal with it!” Ah, so that’s what it was.
Nightwing elbowed Hood with a glare, before turning to Danny with an apologetic smile. “What he meant to say was that we were all worried when you weren’t here at the usual time, something we should know about, Timmy?”
“Nothing, really,” he replied in Tim’s voice. “I had an unexpected visitor and getting them to leave took longer than expected, that's all.”
He could feel someone’s gaze on him, from just beyond the shadows of the roof's stairway access. Danny could only imagine which more observant bat was in there watching him. Tim had mentioned one of his sisters being able to read body language fluently, he only hoped that if he kept his stance relaxed and open and not looked he’d at least be able to get through this.
“I expect a more in depth answer when I read your report, Red Robin,” the sound of gravel came from Danny’s left, and turning revealed the big Bat himself. Ancients, Danny really needed to keep calm here, Tim had said his adopted dad was intimidating, but holy crap, Batman!
With how silent the bat was he really hoped he didn’t die and become a ghost, he would be terrifying. (Or maybe he should want Batman to become a ghost? Then Tim could still see him and he’d get a fearsome new strategist.)
A smaller form rounded the imposing caped crusader, one Danny recognized instantly. It was hard not to recognize the youngest Wayne with how often his starlight complained about him.
“Drake,” Robin said as he crossed his arms.
“Brat,” Danny replied with a nod of his head.
Batman made a grunt as he turned to face the rest of the group.
“We’re splitting up to cover more ground, teams of two,” the Bat motions to the shadow and Nightwing, with Orphan stepping out of the darkness to be better addressed. “Orphan and Nightwing will be taking the west side, Robin and Spoiler-” he points to the child and the blonde in purple sitting above Orphan on the access hut roof. “-you’ll take the south. Red Robin and Red Hood-”
“If you say anywhere other than the north, old man, I swear-”
“-you’ll be taking the north,” he cuts over Hood’s rant quickly. How used to that was he? Danny could only imagine.
“I’ll be taking the southside, with Oracle on lookout. We have reports of the joker running around, if anyone spots him do not engage. Call for backup and keep a safe distance,” he turns to give what Danny thinks is a glare to Red Hood, the cowl makes it a little hard to guess.
“Are we clear?” Batman challenged, clearly expecting only a yes. A glare-off started and Danny could swear he saw sparks.
Finally, after a good five minutes, Hood relented, huffing out a “Clear,” between clenched teeth. Everyone else sounded off their confirmations as they left in different directions, with Oracle relaying sightings of various rouges through their comms. Seems he and Hood were on the trail of the Riddler to start, with him being spotted near Gotham stadium.
With the directions given from Oracle, Danny had to use a tiny amount of flight to catch up to Red Hood, who had started his run just after the grumble to B. Seems he was trying to lose him, if the dissatisfied grunt when Danny caught up was anything to go by.
Good news, The Riddler was an easy catch, running around in the stadium underground trying to get ready for whatever hair-brained scheme he’d come up with, only to be knocked cold by a few rubber bullets to the back and bo staff to the face. There were a few bombs to dispose of, and while Danny didn’t actually know how to safely dispose of a bomb safely, he did have the ability to pocket inanimate objects into a space between spaces, and no one really needed to see the bombs he disposed of right away.
He figured he could give them to Tim to disarm and he’ll be able to give them to the police later.
Bad news, he and Red Hood split up to make sure they got all the bombs in the basement floors, making it really easy for Hood to ditch once he was done and leave Danny alone.
Coulda at least given him a heads up, so he didn’t try to wait for him while the police showed up for the weirdo in green. Guess he was on his own then.
Propelling himself off another rooftop to the northwestern port, Danny absently listened to the chatter of the other bats over the comms. They all liked making small talk, with Nightwing being the most talkative. Apparently Tim was just about as talkative as his brother, as Nightwing made a comment towards him saying something along the lines of “Tim, you good? You’re quieter than normal tonight,” and he had to spin something about how he was fine, and he was just thinking about something his guest had said before he left and left it at that.
The docks were just as haunted as he remembered, with shades and whisps floating from warehouse to warehouse aimlessly. Danny remembered a few villain hideouts around here from the cases Tim had shared with him, and it was better to be safe than sorry with this port being closest to Arkham.
Danny wasn’t finding anything immediately dangerous as he went from one corrugated roof to the next, thanking whoever staged the breakout mentally that they had decided to do it during a dry spell. He would not do well as a regular human on slick roofs, ancients only knew what would happen if Tim fell from this height just because he slipped.
A clattering noise coming from a few buildings in front of him startled him enough to stop. He was nearing the end of the docks, and the warehouses were becoming sparse enough to see the more residential buildings not too far from him. More noise and he zeroed in on the warehouse it was coming from.
One of the Joker's known hideouts.
Danny really didn’t like the situation he had just found himself in.
“Oracle,” Danny clicked on his comms, silencing whatever Nightwing was about to say. “I’m at Port Hill on the northern point, there's movement inside one of Joker’s hideouts.”
That got everyone's attention, silencing any chatter they may be having on private channels. B’s line clicked on and the low grumble practically shook Danny’s core.
“Red Robin, maintain your position, everyone else rendezvous at his position.”
Several sounds of confirmation could be heard, with eta’s coming in just after. Looks like Danny will be staying in place for a while, so he might as well plop himself down on the ledge of the roof next to the one he was watching.
He busied himself with counting the ridges of the roof as he swung his feet rhythmically. Not really focusing on anything except the weak presences of the nearby spirits as they wandered around the port.
A shrill scream cut through his daydreaming, coming form the warehouse in front of him.
Shit, did the Joker take a hostage?
His core flared to life with protective urges, needing to make sure the origin of the scream really was someone in need, and if there really was a hostage that they could get out safely before whatever the clown had in store for them played out.
Great, this was so going to get him in trouble.
Danny clicked the comms alive once more, relaying the new information to the bats. “Just heard a scream, I think the clown might have taken a hostage.”
“Red Robin, don’t engage. We’ll be able to handle a hostage more efficiently together.”
“But B, we may not have the time to wait! He’s probably waiting for us all to come in guns blazing so he can kill them in front of us!”
“My orders are the same, do not engage,” Batman shut his comms off after that, leaving no more room to argue.
Danny turned his own comm off and growled, deep and inhuman. He couldn’t just not go and try to help. If someone was in there and Danny stayed? He didn’t want to remember the burning his core would give him in response. Making up his mind, he grinned a too wide smile as the whites of his domino lit up green.
Fuck Batman, time for some fun.
Finding a way in was easy, as the roof was lined with windows just below the overhang. They were dirty and rusted at the hinges, but gave easily when he pulled enough against one. He managed to pull one open just enough to squeeze through and drop himself onto one of the catwalks snaking through the rafters of the building.
The place itself was packed with clown themed contraband from wall to wall, some being just benign stage props and others being rather nasty looking contraptions. Danny was pretty sure he spotted an electric chair knocked over in a ball pit.
The center of the warehouse was cleared of the clutter, rounded to the main doors like some inverse stage. Strapped to a chair in the center of the clearing was a guy, maybe mid twenties, with short brown hair and gray hoodie. Poor guy must have been picked up off the street on the Clowns way here, he was gagged and wide eyed with terror.
The hostage was here, and other than looking a little scuffed up he seemed fine, but where was the Joker?
Danny crept along the catwalk silently to canvas the rest of the warehouse for the Clown, even jumping a few beams to get a better vantage. No sign of him. The probability of him going out for a smoke break or something was pretty low, but as Danny’s core was still screaming at him to get the hostage out of here, he'd rather take the chance of a trap than get the guy hurt.
When he returned to his original spot on the catwalk there was still no change to the guy in the chair, no noise other than his muffled gasps and sobs and no shuffling in any other part of the building. Silently Danny slid off the platform to the concrete floor below, crouching and using a bit of flight to negate the impact he had with the ground. He scanned the room once more, looking to see if anything had changed with the new perspective. Still nothing.
Ancients, this situation had ‘Trap’ written all over it in bright red letters.
Still, he made his way over to the guy strapped to the chair, who by then had noticed him and was looking at Danny with tearful eyes. The spotlight overhead cast most of the building's innards in shadow once Danny stepped inside, but he’d still have the shadows and the guy to help him notice if anyone snuck up on him.
Danny’s first order of business was to ungag the guy, both to help him breathe and to ask the guy some questions.
“You’re Red Robin,” the dude sputtered eloquently.
“Sure am,” Danny replied with a huff, moving to untie the guy's arms from behind him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he added on nervously, shifting his gaze around as he tried to look for invisible enemies.
“Well sorry to disappoint,” Danny grumbled as he moved from the knots behind the guy to the ones tying his legs.
“No, no, you don’t get it! He’s waiting for you bats! He went somewhere a while ago and who knows how long it’ll be before he gets back!” The guy was nearing a panic attack with how quickly his breath was coming out. Danny needed to calm him down so they could both get out of here safely.
“What’s your name?” The non sequitur seems to jolt the guy out of the panic spiral he was going down.
“M-Mark. You really shouldn’t have come in here.”
“Well, Mark,” Danny rolled his eyes behind the domino. “What do you think he would’ve done to you if I hadn’t come in here to get you?”
At that Mark paled, not realizing exactly how bad his luck was tonight until Danny pointed it out. Mark stiffened, never letting his eyes still as he watched the shadows in front of the duo.
The knots came undone rather quickly, and while Danny wanted to question it, he could do it at a better time and place. He looked up, about to reassure Mark that they could make their way to the door now, when he had to cut himself off by dragging the guy off his chair. A bat narrowly missed the back of his head, clanging onto the metal back of the chair and denting the soft metal.
“Awwww, I was really hoping you wouldn’t notice till his head popped like a piñata,” a lilting voice said. The Clown Prince himself walked closer to the two, roughly kicking the chair out of his path as he propped the bat up on his shoulder.
“And, what? No Batsy? Too busy for good old Joker to come himself, so he sends one of his little birdies to play instead?” The Clown exaggerated a pout as he looked to the rafters. “Or are you just hiding Batsy‽ Waiting till I let my guard down!”
Now that he had a good look at the infamous circus freak, Dannny was amazed at just how hated the villain was. The stories Tim told him and the sites dedicated to the Clown really didn’t quite make it feel real, but now that Danny has had a chance to look at him up close. Just, wow.
That was a lot of curses.
The mass of negative energy slithered over and around the crazed man’s form, swirling around him like smoke and hanging off him, covering every inch of the human in thick, oily smoke. The smoke condensed behind him, forming a writhing mass of living curses, angry and sad and hateful. It looked like everyone the Clown ever killed had a piece of their soul stuck to the man just to make sure they knew he’d died in the afterlife. It was beautiful and terrifying at once, just how many had this one mortal killed?
“Seems like I’m just disappointing everyone tonight,” Danny mumbled under his breath as he refocused and got himself and the hostage to their feet, bringing out his bo staff carefully. He placed himself between the hostage and villain protectively as the Clown swung his head around to view the rafters, searching for something that wasn’t there.
Taking advantage of Joker's distraction, Danny pushed Mark towards the door behind them.
“But!-” Mark tried to get out but Danny silenced him before he could say anything more.
“Go, I’ll keep him busy,” and with another push Mark was running to the door and Joker’s attention was back on them.
“Hey! You’re letting my guppy get away, the nerve!” The crazed Clown exclaimed as he charged at Danny, taking a swing at his head and missing by a hair as he dodged. The clown changed the angle of his swing and the bat came down, nearly hitting Danny's shoulder if he hadn’t blocked it with his bo.
“Aw, well… Suppose I did catch a bird with my fish, so I still have some bait to lure the bat in,” another swing that glanced off Danny's staff had him taking a step back, unused to the weapon. Sure, Pandora had trained Danny in a few different weapon styles while training, but he wasn’t nearly as proficient in it as Tim was.
A sadistic grin grew on the Joker’s face as they swung again, manic glint in his eye and cackling as he spoke. “I never did manage to get you in my collection of plucked birdies, did I? Maybe once I clip your wings I’ll give you to the Bat as a gift! Another dead bird for his flock!” A louder cackle and another dodge of the bat as Danny's thoughts swirled in the new information.
Another dead bird? A few things came to mind, including the worrying smell of death revived from another red themed vigilante. The fact that this maniac had got one of Tim’s brothers and killed them, and now he wanted to do the same to another one?
Danny’s core was icing in his chest at the thought.
Dropping any pretence of dodging the next swing Danny let the Clown cackle triumphantly as his bat connected with the side of the hero's face. The laughter turned into annoyed grunt as the Joker dropped the bat in favour of clutching his wrist, now numb and tingly from the impact. Danny hadn’t moved an inch from the swing, watching the confusion grow on the Clown’s face as he looked to the supposed bird in front of him.
“What-” the Clown started but silenced himself at the deep chuckle Danny forced out of his throat, much too deep for someone of Tim’s stature to produce.
“See, now you’ve gone and did something you shouldn’t have, Boingo.” Danny stated, using his own voice and lacing it with a ghostly chill. “You just threatened the lives of people under my protection. Just the fact that you’ve already done something as great as killed one had you on thin fucking ice, but you threatening my people in front of me?” Another low chuckle escaped his throat as he smiled with lips pulled back too far and teeth too sharp. He could see the glow his eyes were putting off on the rims of the domino as he cocked his head jarringly to the side.
“Now we play my game.”
Bruce was worried, they hadn’t made good time to the north port and Tim hadn’t responded when they had tried to ask him more about the situation.
Now, it wasn’t that Bruce didn’t trust his sons, he just didn't trust them against someone like the Joker. He’d already lost one son to the mad man, and even if he did get him back he couldn’t afford to lose another.
Bruce was the last to arrive at the port, and scanning his children left one unaccounted for. He had told Tim to hold his position, why did his kids never listen?
Jason, the first on scene had told them Tim was nowhere in sight, and when Dick asked why he wasn’t with him in the first place he grumbled something about losing him while apprehending The Riddler in the sports stadium underbelly. While Bruse could have called him out on the lie he had more pressing things to think about, so he left that to Dick.
One more look to his children before they dispersed with a nod, off to find their own ways into the building as Bruce headed for the warehouse bay doors. He landed on the ground silently, noting the doors were left open enough for him to move in without moving them. Something intentional? A trap maybe? Dread filled his gut as he realised Tim would have been alone while possibly walking into a death trap.
Two taps over the comms signaled everyone in position, and a tap to his own comm gave them the go to start going in. Bruce maneuvered himself through the door to find a singular overhead bulb illuminating a cleared out space in an otherwise packed room. A steel bat lay dented a few feet from the door, warped at an angle suggesting it had hit something denser than it. A metal chair was on the edge of the cone of light, clearly knocked out of the way as it sat on its side, another dent on its back clearly seen.
At the opposite end of the circle was Tim, unmoving with his back facing Bruce. From his point of view he couldn’t see anything wrong with the boy, but he could tell something was wrong. Tim was too still, his situational awareness would normally have alerted the boy to Bruce coming up behind him, yet he didn’t move to face him.
More taps over the comm signaled an all clear, and still Tim didn’t move, proving he had taken his comm out earlier. Bruce moved to just behind the boy, hearing the soft thumps as the rest of his family made their way down.
“Tim?” Bruce asked softly, fearing dark scenarios with Joker’s poisonous smile on his son.
Finally, Tim moved. Turning to face Bruce with a questioning hum. Bruce minutely sagged in relief, the boy wasn't smiling, that was good. Something still didn’t sit well in his stomach, though he couldn’t place what.
“You disobeyed orders,” he ground out. He knew his son was safe, now he was in deep trouble.
“Yeah, well,” Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “You were late.”
Bruce’s brows came together under the cowl, as he noted a few of his kids stealing glances at each other. That wasn’t something Tim would say. Something wasn’t adding up here, with Joker being nowhere in sight and Tim acting off.
Tim turned his head to follow Cassandra as she moved next to Bruce, Keeping a critical eye on Tim while she spoke.
“Not Tim.”
Those two words sent everyone on high alert, tensing for a fight now that the imposter was outed. Not-Tim didn’t move, keeping his posture relaxed as he smirked.
“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” The imposter asked in an unfamiliar voice, his tone almost sounding amused with the outcome. Cassandra nodded once, confirming the man’s assumption and he chuckled, shifting to place his weight on one foot as he brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his neck.
“Was it anything in particular, or did you just read me that well?” He asked, still no heat to his tone. By now the others were beyond confused, looking between each other in uncertainty as their forms dropped with the tension, though Jason and Damian still kept their weapons raised.
Bruce would really like to know what was going on right now.
Cassandra smiled at the man in front of them, eyes crinkling over the half mask. The man gave another chuckle as he moved his hand from his neck to his hair, carding his fingers through the mop. When he set his hand down again his hair had become shorter, no cutting or pulling it back, just magically shorter.
Bruised wanted to groan, he hated dealing with magic.
“If you aren’t Tim, then where is he?” Dick asked cautiously.
“He’s at home, sleeping off whatever Dr. Ivy hit him with the last night you went on patrol,” the stranger replied easily. A glance to his daughter beside him told Bruce he was telling the truth.
“What, is he sick?” Stephanie asked with a scoff. “That's bull, he said himself that he felt fine after taking it, for all we know you could be lying.”
“Believe me, or don’t,” the stranger shrugged, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged in the air as he spoke. “I have someone keeping an eye on his condition while I take his place for the night. He was delusional and could barely stand, I found him in his living room trying to jump out the window.”
A snort from Jason's direction was cut short with a grunt. The stranger before them snickered.
“Y’know, you guys are a lot more fun when you don’t have a mission to be focused on. Maybe I’ll ask Tim if we can hang out sometime now that I’ve met you.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes at the stranger, something still wasn’t adding up, and it had nothing to do with the floating act. Before he could pursue it, though, Jason brought up another good question.
“So where’s the Joker?” The stranger flinched, making Bruce tense again at the sheepish look on the beings face.
“Yeah, see well… About that…” he stuttered, before deflating, sinking a few inches in the air as he motioned over to a dark lump behind him just outside the light. There wasn’t anything special about the lump until Bruce let his eyes adjust some, he realised the lump had legs.
The Joker was curled up in a ball on the floor.
“What the hell‽” Jason alarmingly exclaimed as he backed up a step.
Bruce took two batarangs out of the pouch on his belt, ready to throw them at the being in front of them. “What did you do to him?” He growled in warning, making everyone raise their guard in waiting with him.
“It’s not my fault, okay‽ The dude was just really cursed, I just helped a little!” The being raised his hands as a show of peace, looking slightly panicked.
“What exactly did you help?” Dick asked, batons out at the ready.
“Well, the curses were pretty weak, so after I roughed him up a little I fed them a bit. I swear he’s not dead!”
“He sure fucking looks dead!” Was that a touch of glee to Jason’s voice? Best to ignore that for now.
“No, I swear! He’s just in a coma! He’ll come out of it in a month or two once the ectoplasm wears off!”
Well, he wasn’t dead at least, though now Bruce’s question really had to be asked.
“Who are you?” He looked the still floating being up and down one more time as a surprised look came over them, followed by a sheepish one.
“Oh, shoot, sorry. I guess I forgot to introduce myself.” The being places their feet back on the floor and sticks out their hand. “Hi, I’m Danny Fenton, I’m Tim’s boyfriend.”
#dpxdc#dp fic#merry holidays#secret santa 2022#surprise#its a fic!#dp x dc fanfic#dp x dc crossover#danny phantom#tim drake#it starts as a sick fic but that isn't the focus
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the cars that go boom | (daddydom!sadist!eddie)
this fic isn't related to the title song reference at all, it's just stuck in my head.
needed to get this out of my drafts so here's some ddlg themed sadist eddie that's been sitting in my draft folder for fucking ever and i'm sick of looking at it.
tw: 18+ mdni ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, eddie being all over a cocky shit bag hottie who likes control but it's consensual, use of a vibrating toy. lots of allusions to other sex.
You watch him get out of the bathroom after his shower, tattoos stretched taught over softly cut muscles. You almost drool. He tried something new with you this week, an orgasm ban -- nearly a sex ban -- in fact, he didn't even want you to see his dick. And much like he always does when he finds a new way to torture you; he was feeling really pleased with himself about it.
'That's more than you deserve,' he hissed at you Monday night while you knelt obediently between his legs. He pet your hair while you watched TV and he jerked himself off, you were not allowed to turn around until he was finished. You pouted all night, and when it happened the next day you started pouting all week.
But, the week was over, which meant your punishment was done. You'd spent all day getting ready, a long shower, smooth skin, body butter, his favorite perfume, everything you could do to feel perfect for him. You cleaned the trailer and made dinner, you kissed him when he got in the door to which he blushed and smiled.
'Hi beautiful,' he greeted you so gently, 'I missed you today.'
You watch him dress now, hair dripping while he tugs on a pair of grey sweatpants and a ratty cut off Iron Maiden t-shirt. You sulk a little. Those aren't normally the clothes he'd put on if he wanted to take you to bed, but you don't say anything just yet.
He goes to the kitchen table with a composition notebook and a collection of pens and markers, opening the beat up pages to what you can only assume is a new campaign, a new drawing of a map. You walk over while he mulls over it, adding new territory, scribbling in new lore. You let your hands slide over his shoulders.
"Hi baby," you say sweetly.
"Hi," he responds, focused on his notebook. Your hands slide forward, onto his chest, your face leaning down to his, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Whatcha doing?" you ask innocently.
"Workin' on a campaign," he responds, "We're gonna meet up on Wednesday night so I want it to be semi together."
"Okay," you nod, you run your fingers gently over his scalp, giving him a soft scratch. He keens into the touch, shoulders relaxing while he rolls his head back. You press your luck, letting your fingertip trace over the curve of his ear.
"Hey," he warns softly, "I'm tryin' to focus, sweetheart."
"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize, but he can't see your grin. Your fingers continue to wander, giving him a sweet shoulder massage while he reads over his story. A quiet 'thank you honey', falls from his full lips while you work out the knots. You press your luck again, trailing your finger down the line of his neck that's the most sensitive to your tongue and touch. Eddie's shoulders tense and he sits up straight, turning to you with a sour pull at his full lips.
"Do you need something?" he asks pointedly. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, "Do you need some attention?"
You nod and he grins, pulling the other kitchen chair over, "Come sit next to me then, you can help."
You roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he bites his tongue at the offense, happy to get to spend some time with you like this. He gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek while you watch him work.
You barely 'help', just sitting there while he crosses things out and re-writes them. While he flips back ten pages and then forward twenty, grabbing a red pencil and putting it down for a blue pencil then picking the red back up and so on. You get restless watching him work, so you get up and grab each of you a beer. Another sugar sweet, 'thaaank you baby,' pours from him, this time deep and focused, dark and syrupy. Molasses tongue. It goes right to your thighs.
You press your luck a third time, scooting close to him, letting your hand smooth over his covered thigh and further up, skimming over his cock that was perfectly outlined in his sweats. He let's out a frustrated sigh when he takes your hand away from his crotch, gently putting it on your lap when he looks at you sternly.
"Daddy's busy, baby," his eyes look down at you, his dominance brewing under angry brows, "Why don't you go play by yourself in another room, hm?"
He turns his attention back to the campaign notebook, while you throb from being scolded. The humilation pools through you when he chastises you, eyes lingering on you while you continue to sit there. After a beat, you get up to walk to the bedroom hearing his voice as you do.
"Good girl," he teases, "Are you being a good listener?"
You look back and see his grin while he leans back in the kitchen chair, crossing his arms. His legs are spread wide under the table, cool authority flowing off of him.
"Are you?" he asks again, a smirk cracking his face as if to ask, 'Does this embarrass you?' It does, it's humiliating.
"I'm a very good listener," you respond quietly, heart dropping in your chest.
His brows raise, waiting for you to add more to the sentence. You let out an aggravated huff through your nose, crossing your arms.
"I'm a very good listener, daddy," you repeat.
"There we go," he smiles cruelly, "Go have fun, sweetheart."
'Have fun? HAVE FUN?' you think to yourself while you go to the bedroom and shut the door with a firm click, 'Fine! I'll have fun without you then! See if I care!'
It's not fair that you've been quite literally begging to be fucked for seven straight days, but to go straight into teasing you like this? The type of dominance that makes you feel the most -- god -- embarrassed? Degraded?
You'd rather gag on fingers and have him wipe your spit on your face. You'd rather him make you lick someone's cum out of his ass, literally anything but this.
With a huff you open Eddie's top dresser drawer and grab the Hitatchi he bought you as an anniversary gift last year. Hastily, you plug it in behind the bedside table before climbing on to bed, shimmying your jeans off and tossing them to the floor.
Your legs spread, bent at the knees, turning the toy on low and slowly lowering it onto your covered core. The hum is quiet, barely a tremble in the head of the wand when it meets the lacy fabric of your panties. A soft gasp escapes you at the feeling, it had felt like years since you'd been touched there. You move the toy up and down slowly, teasing yourself, little puffs of breath escaping you as you do.
With a click, the buzz intensifies, sliding the head upward to settle softly on your clothed clit. You whimper while your hips start to move slowly against the vibrations, the whirr of the toy filling your ears while your eyes shut. You keep yourself like this for a little, enjoying the slow sensation, the mild tease. You feel it start, like the hook looping into the first car of a roller coaster train, the first tug when the attendant hits 'go'.
“Huh!” you gasp out breathy while your hips twitch. Your lower lips start to swell against the gusset of your bottoms, slick building between them. A slow start. You savor it, a small smile pulling at your lips.
“Look so pretty like that, baby,” you hear his voice and gasp, tossing the toy next to you and snapping your legs shut. He smirks, a devilish chuckle bubbles from his chest, “Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. I said you could go play by yourself, and look at you…”
His voice raises in a lilt, while he sits on the bed. He passes you the wand and smiles, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”
“Go on,” he says with a nod, “Show daddy how you were playing.”
You lean back on the pillows, opening up your legs again slowly. He glances between them, eyes flitting down to your mound briefly before meeting your eyes again, he subconciously licks his lips.
You keep your legs up and bent up against your chest so he has a view, puffing out a soft sigh when you click the toy on again. He looks at you with a hazy gleam in his brown eyes, nodding slowly at you to remind you of his permission. You run it up your thigh before settling it back down on the center of your slit, letting the vibrations pulse over your entire core.
"Hm," you hum out softly as your brows pinch together in a tilt.
"Aw, yeah?" he coos out, "Does that feel good?"
"Mhm," you whine, lower lip tucked tight between your teeth. Yuo swallow when he reaches his hand out, smoothing over the soft plushness of your inner thigh. He squeezes, grinning when you let out a soft grunt with a twitch of your hips.
"You've been so patient this week," he purrs, "Such a good girl. Isn't that right?"
You nod hurriedly, watching his hand slide up your thigh, his index finger tracing up the hem of your underwear. It's a smooth hand off, watching his rings gleam in the bedside lamp when it wraps around the handle, both of your hands falling flat by your head. Your palms face the ceiling, matching your eyes when he turns up the vibrations.
"Isn't that right, baby doll?" he asks, adding a gentle pressure up against you. Your pussy strains against the fabric the more excited you get, back already in a soft arch while you push into the mattress.
"Y-yes, sir," you manage to mutter out.
"No, no, that's not who I am tonight," he admonishes, still in a soft and steady voice, almost sweet -- like you don't understand anything. He takes the toy away; making you whimper, leaning up on your elbows behind you.
"You know how to address me," he says, a serpentine confidence flashing in his face, "You're a big girl, aren't you? Or do I have to teach you?"
You let out a shrill groan, head leaning back on it's hinge while your legs kick out in frustration in front of you.
"Hmm, of course," he says, getting up off the bed to pull off his shirt and slide off his sweats. His boxer briefs hug him in tight but it's there and it's missed you more than you've missed it this week, "You act like this and you don't think I should treat you like a little girl?"
You look up at him, bitten lower lip jutting out with a sheen of spit.
"So pouty, too," he coos, crawling onto the mattress between your parted thighs. He sits up on his knees, tall over your frame splayed out on the bed. He lifts one of your legs, pressing it flush against his chest so your foot rests by his ear.
"M'not pouty," you say back while his other hand reaches over your cheek with a light back before splaying over your jaw. His thumb brushes your lower lip before pressing on the dip at the center.
"Open," he instructs, you don't even think to stop yourself. You suck his thumb slow, letting your tongue lave over the length all the while. Spit fills your mouth, wet and eager, already inching at the corners of your mouth. You might as well drool.
"Very good," he purrs again from the back of his throat, "Someone learned her lesson this week."
You nod, taking his wrist to steady his hand while you take more initiative with his thumb, implying what you really want.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself," he says lowly, taking his thumb from your mouth. He wipes the spit on your cheek before reaching back over to the wand, keeping your legs spread and holding thight to your thigh against his front.
Your hips shimmy when he holds the toy back in place, thumb running over the power button but not pressing down.
"Hey," he says, commanding, "Look up at me."
Your gaze snaps to his in unadulterated obedience, his distaste for even having to ask evident on his face, "You know better."
"I know better," you nod while you say it, confirming his words.
"You do not ever stop looking at me," he glowers down.
"I don't ever stop looking at you," you repeat back, needy for whatever he has for you next. Your hips shimmy again, you try to stifle the whine in your throat but it comes out just the same; desperate and childish.
"Oh, baby, do you need help asking for what you want?" his voice lilts, "Does daddy have to guess?"
"Turn it on, please," you whisper.
"Please what, princess?" he asks, voice mocking with a knowing stare, leaning down so your knee hooks over his shoulder. His chest hovers at an angle over you, chain and guitar pick dangling over your lips.
"Please what?" he asks again.
"Please daddy," you whine, "Please turn the toy on."
"Look at those manners," he grins wickedly, "My sweet girl."
He turns it on, speed setting high with the flick of his finger. It rumbles loud, thighs already twitching while runs it back and forth over your sensitive clit.
"Fuck," you gasp out, eyes rolling, "Oh my god, right there."
"That's not a very nice word, sweetheart," he chastises, "What do you say?"
"S-sorr-Oh! Oh my god! Oh! -- Sorry, d--shitshitshitshit-- sorrysorrysorrysorry," you nearly cry when the cord in your belly snaps, gushing into the fabric against your core. He greedily keeps your thighs apart, watching while you come undone under him.
You gulp when he doesn't take the toy away, your sensitive nerves screaming at the buzz of the vibrator. Your hips writhe and jump, trying to pull away from it all the while he's shaking his head no.
"Gotta hear that apology, princess," he murmurs, "Say sorry."
"Sorry daddy, I'm sorry," you babble out, "M'sorry I'll be so good, I'll be good."
He let's out a satisfied hum, clicking the wand off and placing it gingerly on the bedside table. His hand lingers for a moment to make sure it doesn't roll off and then finds it's footing back on the mattress.
"You'll be so good?"
"So good," you nod when he settles back between your thighs. He crawls forward like a cat, pressing his hips slowly up against yours. You sigh needily when you feel the drag of his erection against you, whimpering when you see it affect him the same way.
"Shit, baby," he smirks, trying not to break character while he grinds against you a second time, "Fuck."
"That's not a very nice word," you tease back, looking up at him through heavy lids.
"Well I'm not a very nice guy, am I?" he muses, leaning in to kiss you deeply before one hand reaches down to tug at your panties. You giggle, a sound that sends him reeling when he's in this kind of mood.
"You're very nice," you whisper against his lips.
"Hmm, yeah?" he growls, noses brushing while he lingers above you. He offers another roll of his hips right before he gets to work on pulling your panties down slipping them off of each ankle with ease.
Undressed completely below him, he admires you. He hadn't seen you like this all week, finally getting what you've been waiting for. So patient, so willing. He runs his hands from shoulders to hips, greedy fingers digging into you rough and tumble, grabbing and kneading with disregard to comfort.
"Daddy," you start, getting his attention in a voice that makes him ready to serve accordingly, "Fuck me."
A smirk splits his face, it's cute when you ask so brazenly when you're busy looking at him with those sad puppy eyes.
"Please, fuck me," you reiterate while he readies himself, boxer briefs peeling off to leave him bare. Your soft gasp at the release of his cock is more of an ego trip than he expected to have, never realizing how much you truly need him like this. How you can really only get off to him, how you've submitted in every way you could.
"Daddy's gonna fuck you, sweetheart," he says steadily, climbing back ontop of you, pressing your thighs to your chest, "God, m'gonna fuck you real good."
He leans in for another hungry kiss, ownership laced in his lips. When he breaks away you catch his chin in your hand, an action that makes him bristle, jaw clenching at your attempt at control.
"Fuck me like I've been bad," you request in a timbre so low he nearly melts at the sound, "Fuck me how you fuck bad girls."
He's never flipped you over so fast in your life.
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Thirteen Rounds
Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x f!reader
Genre: smut smut smut smut smut! sex ban smut lmao; established relationship
Summary: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right?
Word count: 13.2k
Content: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (f.), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sex toys, uh implied come eating? (It's not mentioned but he comes in her then eats her out sooooo it's happening 😂), cutesy nicknames that honestly even make me cringe these days lmaooo
A/N: as I said in a post earlier today, this hit 6k notes on the old blog and I know crowing about notes is tacky and no one cares (and even I don't care! That's not why I'm here!), but I never really got to celebrate this fic when I posted it and it took the fuck off. So here's to another 6k 🤪🤪🤪
FOUR WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook walks slowly, very slowly, down the corridor to the door of your apartment. He does not want to go through it. He really doesn’t want to have to tell you what he’s about to.
Four weeks no sex.
That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.
He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.
“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.
“Just tired? Training hard today?”
Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.
“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”
He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.
“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”
“WHAT?”
“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.
He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.
“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”
“I know!”
He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.
“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”
“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”
You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.
“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”
He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.
“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”
It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.
“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”
“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”
“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”
You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.
“Please,” he begs. “Please.”
“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”
You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?
“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”
He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.
You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.
“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”
He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.
“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.
“But I’m so wet already.”
Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.
“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.
“FUCK.”
He brings his hands to his face and rubs.
“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”
You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.
When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.
“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”
Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.
He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.
“Jungkook, please.”
He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.
He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.
“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.
He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.
You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”
His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.
While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.
“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.
“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”
He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.
“I’m going to shower.”
He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.
“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”
He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.
When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.
“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.
He almost chokes on his indignation.
“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”
Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.
“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”
He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.
“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”
Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.
“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”
When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.
“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“
“I can put some clothes on?”
Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.
“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”
“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”
“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”
He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.
“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”
Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.
“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”
You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.
“Night night, my little custard cream.”
“Night night, my love.”
He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.
THREE WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.
At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.
Hence, Me Time.
Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.
You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.
You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.
You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.
You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.
Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.
The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.
“God, I’ve missed that noise.”
You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.
“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”
He shrugs.
“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”
“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”
You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.
He looks at the rabbit, appraising.
“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.
“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”
“Let me help you.”
You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.
“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”
The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.
“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”
He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.
“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.
“Wh-.. I...”
You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.
“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.
You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.
“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.
He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.
“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”
He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.
“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.
You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.
“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.
He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.
“What’s mine is yours, baby.”
“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”
“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”
Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.
“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.
“Don’t call me Jeon.”
“Isn’t it your name?”
He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.
“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.
“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”
His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.
“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”
You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.
“And me all ready for you...”
You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.
“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.
“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.
“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”
You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.
“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”
He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”
“Kookie... Please.”
You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.
“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.
“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.
You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.
TWO WEEKS TO GO
Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.
Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.
“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”
He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.
“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”
You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.
“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.
He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.
“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”
You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.
“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”
“No, of course it’s not!”
Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?
He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.
“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“
“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”
He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.
“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”
He is what?
He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.
You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.
He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.
Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.
“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.
It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”
He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.
You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.
He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.
You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.
“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”
You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.
Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.
“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.
“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“
“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.
“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.
He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.
You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.
“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.
You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.
“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.
“Anything.”
“Ice. And water.”
“Huh?”
“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.
“Ok…”
You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.
With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.
He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.
“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.
“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”
“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”
He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.
ONE WEEK TO GO
Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.
You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.
Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.
He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.
Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.
“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.
“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”
You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.
“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”
You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.
“In six days.”
Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.
“Now get the fuck out.”
You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.
Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.
He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.
He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.
“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”
“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”
“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”
He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.
He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.
You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.
It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.
These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.
FIGHT NIGHT
It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.
But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.
He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.
He pulls out his phone and dials your number.
“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.
“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”
Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.
“Something is wrong: I miss you.”
“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”
He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.
“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”
“I know and whose fault is that?”
“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”
“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”
“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”
“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”
He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.
“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”
“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”
“Yeah.
“Garibaldi?”
Jungkook laughs.
“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”
“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”
He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.
He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.
Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.
That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.
You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.
But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.
When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.
Jungkook is going to lose.
The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.
This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.
You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.
“8… 9… 10!”
The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.
Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.
“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”
He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.
He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.
He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.
The door opens and there you are.
“Fucking finally.”
Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.
“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”
“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.
Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.
“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”
He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.
“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.
“Shit.”
He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.
“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”
“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”
Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.
Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.
“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”
You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.
“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.
“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.
He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.
“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.
His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.
“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”
He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.
“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”
He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.
He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.
You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.
His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.
When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.
“You ok, my love?”
Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.
“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.
Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.
“Kookie.”
You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.
“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.
“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”
You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.
He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”
He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.
“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”
He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.
“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”
“Only mine.”
“Only yours.”
You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.
“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.
“I don’t have it,” you whimper.
“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”
And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.
“Jesus, fuck!”
He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.
Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.
He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.
“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.
You laugh and pat his shoulder.
“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”
“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”
“What title?”
The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.
When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.
“Both, I guess?” you answer.
He grins and shakes his head.
“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”
“What happened?”
“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”
“I fucking told you!”
“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”
“No more sex bans?”
“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”
“Good.”
You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.
“Speaking of never not having sex… Are you ready to go again?”
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Heyo I'm here to request that Male Reader x Winter King you wanted-
Anyways, can you write for a male Reader that used to be Simon and Betty's friend before the crown and the Mushroom War, who randomly shows up in the Land of Ooo? As in, Simon thought that they had died a long time ago, alongside Betty, but the Reader had survived through some odd means and got reunited with him?
Lol, if that's too much, then I'm sorry. It could be a fic or Headcanons, whichever you prefer!
⠂"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴏʟᴅ."⠐
⠂"ᴡᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ."⠐
AHJFHJGSKHA HOW DID YOU KNOW I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT SIMON?? I LOVE THIS WET CAT.
Winter King actually isn't this one, because I wanted to focus on Fionna and Cake ver. Simon
Male reader
Platonic/Romantic (I'm leaving it ambiguous, because I mean, c'mon. It's Simon.)
Type: Headcanons (With a drabble and oneshot mixed in)
Summary: An old friend shows up after a bunch of time-related shenanigans, and is finally ready to settle back down in Ooo. Though this sudden happening is quite a shock to Simon.
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-You used to be an old family friend of Betty's, and met Simon through her.
-Y'all were really close, and they invited you over for dinner every other weekend.
-But one day, you just...
-Vanished.
-Everyone thought you were kidnapped, and Simon and Betty were heartbroken.
-However...
-Through some odd means, you were kept alive for a thousand years.
-It all started one weird day when you bought a little doodad from a garage sale.
-the next thing you knew, you were in a big yellow cube with a pink wall guy.
-Apparently the little thing you bought was an item from another universe, and it was janking up Ooo.
-Aaaaand technically you just committed a serious crime by purchasing the little thing.
-And whether intentional or not, you now had to go on trial for this little accident. You tried to explain what happened, but you were found guilty.
-You were sentenced to a thousand years in some donked up time jail.
-Apparently, you wouldn't age in there, and a thousand years would pass on Ooo before you were set free.
-It was the worst thing that could've ever happened to you.
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-The time jail kept you from losing your sanity, and a thousand years later, you were released.
-You were teleported back to Ooo, which looked quite different than how you remembered it.
-It felt like an eternity since you've seen rolling green hills and a clear blue sky. An eternity since you've breathed familiar air.
-You heard something, about a hundred yards from you.
-You approached the loud noises to see some buff dude with a sick beard and robotic arm beating up some one-eyed monster.
-He punched the creature, and it was sent flying towards you.
-You ducked, and the dude noticed you.
"Ah, sorry man! Didn't see you there!"
-You assured him it was nothing.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
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You shook your head, then blinked confusedly. Well, technically you were. It had just been 1000 years. You tried to get your story straight, then told the guy.
"Woah, so does that mean you're technically a time traveler?"
You shrugged. Time travel hadn't been proven yet, has it? You weren't sure. You asked the guy his name, so you didn't have to refer to him as just 'the guy.'
"Oh, yeah. Name's Finn. Good ol' Finn the H."
"The H.?"
"Y'know, the Human?"
But you were human too. With all due respect, you asked him about his strange surname.
"Oh, uh.. My real last name is Mertens, but I like 'the Human' better. It's only recently other humans have started living in Ooo. So I'm kinda seen as 'that one human' y'know?"
You nodded, trying to make sense of what he said. what had happened that caused humans to leave Ooo? How was that even possible?
The two of you talked for a short while, and you learned a little bit about Ooo. You were used to knowing a lot, but you barely even recognized this place.
"Oh, you're from the 20th century, right?"
You nodded.
"I've got a friend from then, maybe you'd like to meet him? He's one cool dude."
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-You agreed politely, wondering if this 20th century man would help you adjust to life in whatever century this was. What century was this anyway? 30-something?
-Finn ended up taking you to a scrappy little bar filled with people that looked to be made out of candy.
"Anything you'd like to order?"
"Nothing for me, Dirt Beer Guy. Maybe he'd like one, but we're just waiting for-"
⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂⠂
"Simon?"
You stared in disbelief at the face of your old friend, who looked at you with the same expression. He was carrying something under his arm, but he dropped it in shock.
"No way, you know him? That's awesome!"
Simon slowly walked up to you, as if afraid you'd disappear at any second. Tears welled up in the both of your eyes, and you had to suppress breaking down right there. It hadn't occurred to you that this 20th century man could've been Simon, but now that you were seeing him, you realized you subconsciously wished it would be him.
He spoke your name softly, not much more than a whisper, as if anything louder would cause reality to shatter, or one of you to wake up from a dream.
"You... You're really here, aren't you?"
You nodded softly, not daring to say a word. Tears spilled out of your eyes, and Finn looked slightly confused.
"Do you guys, uh.... Wanna step out for a minute?"
You agreed, still quietly, saying it would probably be better to not make a scene. Finn gave you a thumbs up and shooed you out, saying he'd wait for you when you got back inside.
You stepped out of the little bar with Simon, realizing it got dark out while you were inside.
"So..."
"How about we take a walk?"
You nodded, falling into step with Simon as you walked into a nice little forest. The small stream rushing by provided ambient noise.
"How are you here..?"
Simon asked, with an air of disbelief. He blinked, wiping his glasses and rubbing his eyes. As if you'd disappear once he'd open them. You explained what happened, and suddenly gasped.
"If you're here, that means Betty must be here too, right? Where is she?"
Simon sighed, bringing his arms up to hold himself.
"She's..."
"She's not."
You decided not to pry, but you couldn't help but notice the sinking feeling in your gut. She was one of your best friends, and she was gone. But she was Simon's fiancee. It must have hit him harder, whatever happened to her. You'd ask later, when the emotional turmoil between the two of you wasn't so fresh.
You walked in peaceful silence between the two of you, listening to the sounds of the stream, or chirping crickets.
You took that time to study Simon, how his appearance changed, and things that stayed the same.
Same fashion sense,
same goofy circle glasses,
even the same walk you remember.
There was a white streak in his hair now.
Wrinkles on his face.
Something about him just seemed so...
Sad.
"You've gotten old."
Simon smiled, though it seemed bitter.
"We both have."
"I missed you, Simon. Not a day went by that I didn't think of you, Betty, or any of our other friends."
Simon stopped walking, and you copied. He seemed as if he was about to cry again. To be honest, you were too. Talking about all of this while looking him in the face didn't fare well for your emotional state.
He took off his glasses, wiping at his eyes. Simon smiled bitterly through it though. He seemed to be so lonely. You wondered where he lived now.
". . ."
He wiped his eyes again, then looked straight at you with an unwavering gaze.
"You have no idea how much we missed you. Even years after you disappeared, we still looked. Even when the police failed, we still-"
He inhaled sharply, breath shaking. He turned his head away, as if ashamed of his emotions.
You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to provide comfort. Simon suddenly wrapped his arms around you, pressing his face into your shoulder. You returned the embrace, holding onto him just as tightly.
Simon's breath shook, and you softly rubbed his back. You had no idea what he's gone through, and you were genuinely unsure whether you were helping or not.
"Simon..?"
His grip on you loosened, and he looked up at you.
You said nothing else, but you gently rested your forehead on his. He sniffed, then took a deep breath. Your hands fell to his waist, while his rested on your shoulders. Simon closed his eyes, cherishing this small bit of comfort.
After a few moments, Simon pulled away, bringing his fist up to his mouth and clearing his throat.
"W- well, today was certainly... Eventful."
You laughed softly, agreeing with his remark. The two of you walked back to the little bar, realizing you'd gotten farther from it than you thought you did.
Simon cleared his throat yet again, once you reached the outside of the bar.
"Yeah, Simon?"
He thought for a moment, then spoke.
". . .Thank you."
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Thanks for reading! I absolutely loved writing this, and Simon needs a hug.
Your complimentary artwork ^^
reblog for a beginner writer?
#no beta we die like Jake#simon petrikov x reader#fionna and cake#fionna and cake x reader#pre fionna and cake events#simon petrikov#simon petrikov is a wet cat#fandom#brainrot#finn the human#adventure time#simon needs a hug#fanfiction#selfshipping community#simon petrikov x male reader
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okay well now i’m going to be the one to ask you for the step!dad jake request bc I NEED IT, your jake fics are god tier fr
it’s time that i hop onto the wagon. also i have hadf a few glasses of wine
warnings — praise, stepcest, masturbation, rough fingering/fuck, little bit of awkward step-daddy jake, in heat shit, stomach bulge, daddy kink
fingers stuffed in your cunt and legs spread wide open, you hadn't expected for the flaps of your marui's pod to fling open.
"holy mother of eywa—" jake curses, shrieking at your dazed, whiney state with your really wet and bare pussy on display and he swings the flap back shut. you scream as well, embarrassment shaking through your system but it's immediately numbed by your heat fizzing up your body, stilling your mind and forcing your thoughts to only focus on your orgasm that you can't reach.
the smell of you reaches jake's nose, your sweet caramel-like aroma fogging up his senses. he understood now. why you had been stooped up in your moss of bed for the past few days, why you were so distant at dinnertime, why you had been avoiding him so much.
you were in heat.
his poor babygirl, fingering her pussy while she whined and withered in utter torture. that's why you were hissing with pain. not because you were hurt or sick, but because you were in fucking heat.
then he realizes you haven't stopped, by the continued noises of small gushing and pathetic high-pitched whimpers. "hey, sweetheart?"
you only whine in reply.
jake clears his throat, trying so hard not to focus on the way your pussy messily quelches each time your fingers thrust inside of it. he re-adjusts his loincloth, cringing at his growing bulge pressing up against it. "does it hurt? baby?"
"oh," you grit out a moan, and jake can hear the way you kick your feet against the woven ground. "mmmhm... daddy, 's hurts."
"didn't catch that. what was that?"
"it hurts," you groan. "please, daddy, come.. in here. i need- i nee... i need..."
jake gently pries open the flap of the pod once again, creeping his head past it and there you are, just like before, fucking yourself dumb with your tiny fingers. he clicks his tongue, crawling to your aid and he runs a hand up your arm, and you fucking shiver at it. your tail twirls ferally, and with the hand that isn't tied up in your cunt, you use it to slap it onto his arm and drag him towards you, piling him on top of you.
"tell me what i can do, babygirl. how long you been hurtin' for?" he whispers, and you can't even reply, only jutting your legs further apart.
jake is still unsure what to do, even though the solution is right there in front of him, right in between your glistening thighs. your smell is intoxicating him, telling him to just pick you up by your legs and fuck his cock into you so hard you see stars. "i want it," you rasp out, looking up at him with your big eyes that you know always gets him to give in and give you what you want. and right now, it's his cock.
"uh- for now, you can hop on my thigh. that sound good? yeah?" jake reasons, and you push out a reckless nod. he rolls you over with him, now laid out on his back and you practically pounce on his thigh, your gush of warm wetness immediately spreading along his skin. he bites back a groan.
you instantly start grinding your hips, letting your head fall back as your body sways, your pussy gliding along his thigh and rubbing at your puffy clit. fuck, if he wasn't hard before, he is now. hard as rock. watching his little princess ride his thigh like an animal, like a slut. it shakes him up in way more ways than one. the thick muscle of his thigh does absolute wonders for you, the amazing friction of your clit catching on the tough of his muscle making your eyes quite literally roll back.
"that's it, that's my girl. fuck yourself on me like that. using dad's big thigh for your pussy, hey? good fuckin' girl," he jumbles, sliding his hand on your hips, now helping you sharpen the desperate rocks of your body and you moan loudly.
your boobs bounce each time your hips roll, your hands trembling as they support your body on his chest and your fingernails digging into his blue skin. you're panting out heavy, quick breaths as you try and find words, "can... i..."
"hey, hey, 's 'right. use your words slowly for me." jake reassures smoothly, running a hand up your thigh and rubbing his thumb into your hot skin. "you close?"
"no," you hiss lowly through your gritted teeth. your words are filled with sobs, a sweet twist with desperation that has jake's dick twitching under his loincloth. "your cock."
"want my cock?" he asks, letting a dark and quiet chuckle slip past his lips, "don't know if you'll be able to ride that one, sweetheart."
"then fuck me with it," you manage to blow out, taking a hand and slipping it to palm his cock, tented up and ready for a pussy to plunge into. your pupils widen immensely, tail whipping up in excitement and your riding quickens, moving your cunt faster on his thigh. "please, daddy. pleasepleaseplease."
"might hurt a little. promise you won't cry?" jake coos, letting his finger trail up the smooth skin of your belly.
"promise," you rush, speeding onto your back and splaying out your body for him. funnily, your top is still strapped to your body. a bit disheveled, but it's still on. jake changes that though, as he yanks it off of your shoulders and flings it across the room. he then presses kiss to the middle of your shoulder, his hand shifting down to play with your pussy, striding a long finger up your slit and gathering some of your slick onto the pad. you whine at the much needed attention, finally getting a touch that is not your own, but your stepdad's.
he wastes no time in pushing a finger in, and then another. the girth of his digits stretch out your viscid walls, heighten your breath and make your pussy pulse in delighted appreciation.
"am i making you feel better, baby? feelin' good?" jake murmurs, and you can feel the side of cock rub up the inner of your left thigh. "think you're ready for dad's cock?"
"yes," you cry, your back arching off the ground as your mouth agapes.
"okay, okay," jake gives your cheek a messy smooch, untying his loincloth with ease and lining up the tip of his cock at your sopping opening. then he slides it in, pushing past your tight pussy and forcing the thick of his length inside of you. you let out a strangled mewl, your ankles kicking at the back of his legs and he catches the way your lips tremble. "ah-ah, baby— what'd i say about crying?"
"i'm not. i'm not crying, daddy." you beg with your voice meek, your cunt wrapping around him tight as if the body part itself did not want to let him go. milking his cock perfectly, he decides to start a slow rock of his hips, a soft pace of back and forth in your pussy. your legs are shaking as they shift to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and encouraging him to push his cock further into your tummy.
"big ass bulge in your tummy from me. ouch, hey? that's daddy's cock in there, pushing your skin up like that." you're compelled to look at where your bodies meet, and you glare at the bump forming and deforming each time his cock glides into you, big and pointy and it only drives you faster to your release.
jake scoops an arm beneath you and around your back, using it to start bringing you down onto him, speeding up his thrusts little by little. a high moan breaks from your sore throat, hands shifting recklessly as you struggle to find a place to rest them.
"over my back, baby." he says, grabbing your arms himself and swinging them over the broad of his back. "there we are."
he leans down and seals your lips in a harsh kiss, tongue sponging out to dance along your hot one. it feels so wrong, so vivid and bad, that you can't help but let out a pathetic whine because of it because you love everything about it. jake fastens his pace, now rutting up into you hard and rough, moving your body with his as your loud noises muffle by the wrap of his aggressive tongue.
you're meeting his animalistic thrusts with your own, only they're more smaller and choppy because scrap before, you're getting fucked dumb now. your stepdad's cock driving in and out of your pussy so ruthlessly, you're going to see stars. literal stars.
"close?" jake mumbles against your mouth, his tone twinged with a sudden lick of his own desperation.
"mhm," you slur, gripping onto him as you attempt to have his cock impossibly hit deeper inside you.
“come all over daddy’s cock then,” he deepens the kiss, angling his head to the side slightly as a thick lock of his hair falls down in front of you. “wanna see my little girl come undone,” he pants.
that sets you off, has your orgasm exploding out of you and pussy gushing around jake’s dick. it shakes your entire body, smacking you with absolute bliss and all you can do is moan, feeling the tears rim your eyes. suddenly, jake is scooping out of you and groaning, dumping his load in his bunched up loincloth beside him.
you lay still beneath jake, panting like crazy and so is he, leaning an elbow on the ground as he attempts to catch his breath. eventually, he ends up collapsing to the ground, and he takes you with him. too fucked out to care, you slump your head against his chest. he tucks a lather of hair behind your ear, kissing the smooth skin between your shoulder and neck.
he doesn’t think it hurts anymore.
#jake sully smut#avatar the way of water#jake sully#jake sully x reader#dilf jake sully#jake sully imagine#james cameron avatar#avatar 2 jake sully#stepdad jake sully#jake sully x reader smut#so what im a sucker i gave in#yall already know i had to#STEPDADDY JAKE SULLY#jake sully oneshot#jake avatar smut#eat children EAT
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Dirty Work 15
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.
Characters: Loki
Note: I need this week to end.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
The rest of your personal day is spent in the confines of your room. You hear your father below in a tantrum, working himself up as he blusters and stomps. Soon, the smell of cigarette smoke pervades the house. He's found his fix somehow.
You don't dare emerge. You hide behind a book you can't focus on as your eyes stray to the phone, over and over. You keep it off as you fear another miscue. You can already imagine Mr. Laufeyson isn't impressed by the disturbance.
Your sleep comes in shallow morsels. You awake to each creak and crack of the old house, the neighbours arguing through the wall, and the rustling of leaves outside the window. You surrender to your consciousness just as the sun comes up. You'll need to see what damage has been done before Leslie arrives.
The puzzle is overturned on the floor, the coffee table on its side. The wooden chair reserved for the nurse has a leg broken and the TV beams its blue screen around the room. You tidy up as best you can, putting the chair by the back door until you can figure out how to fix it.
The kitchen is more of a mess, cupboards open and a few dishes shattered across the tile. A jar of jam is smeared over the laminate counter top along with what you had left of the peanut butter reserved for your lunch. You sigh and toss the empty jars, wiping up the puddles of wasted food.
You brew a tea and sit on the front porch, paranoid that your father might rouse and come to taunt you some more. He's done it before, as if to spite your efforts. He trashes the place only to accuse you of being negligent. What did you ever do to make him hate you? Why does it seem like everyone you meet feels the same?
You finish the black breakfast blend and wash the cup. You creep upstairs to get dressed and wait on your bed until your bus is due. You flee with your work bag and a deep yawn you can't repress.
The commute is your rare chance at peace. You don't have to think as you look out the window and watch the amber headlights pass and the storefronts slowly flicker to life. The nicer houses rise as the streets turn suburban and fervent long swells in your chest. Why couldn't you live like this?
Why couldn't you be like those children running to get in the van with their schoolbags bouncing, their parents laughing at their excitement, or like the mother with her carriage, enjoying a lazy walk as the neighbourhood awakens?
Those things aren't for you. You shouldn't complain, someone always has it worse. You shouldn't pity yourself. Your mother died well before she was ever your age and your father is sick. You are healthy and you have a job. That's something, better than nothing.
You break the threshold of the Laufeyson estate, the gate whining and clanging shut. You hunch down and wind along the path, looking ahead of your feet and no further. You rub your eyes as you come to the back door and check the time. A bit ahead of schedule but he can hardly be unhappy about that.
You are careful in the low din of the house. It's deathly quiet as you leave your shoes on the mat and surpass the closet. As you near the kitchen, you hear a clink from within. You slow, padding quietly in an effort not to betray your presence. You keep against the wall as you resist the urge to peek inside.
"You like tea, no?" The voice wafts through, rippling through the still silence.
You cringe and clutch the straps of your bag. You lower your head and wet your lips. You inch towards the archway.
"Mr. Laufeyson, I don't mind tea," you answer.
"Very well," he takes down a second cup as the kettle boils softly.
"I've already had mine, but thank you, Mr. Laufeyson. I should get to work, the carpenter will be in today."
"You're welcome," he replies as he plucks out tea bags from a hexagonal tin and drops one in each mug. "You can stomach a second. I bought this tea in Tokyo a while back. I need to finish it before it goes stale."
You linger in the door. Is this some trick? Maybe it's pity? Had he really heard that pocket call? You hoped maybe he hadn't been able to hear past the fabric. You watch him as he puts the lid back on the tin. As usual, you can't read him.
What would he even think if he did hear? That you're even more pathetic than he believed?
"Come," he puts his hands on the counter with the undeniable demand.
You obey and cross to the other side of the counter. You teeter and look around awkwardly, not certain what to say or do. He drags his fingertips over the granite and leans weight onto them.
"Thank you for the t--"
"How was your day off--"
You both speak at the same time. You snap your mouth shut and give an apologetic flutter of your fingers. He seals his lips and hesitates, clearing his throat.
"You said the carpenter is due," he redirects, "no doubt you'll have a busy day. Tomorrow, I want you to clear the schedule."
"Tomorrow? Yes, Mr. Laufeyson."
"Don't ask me why, you will know in due time."
"Understood," you take out the phone and make a note, your should hanging heavy on your elbow.
He waits. You don't say a word. The kettle pops and he turns to take it and pours the tea. He sets it back on the base and slides a mug closer.
"You're not curious?" He wonders.
"Like you said, I'll find out," you say, "thank you again."
"Five minutes for a good steep," he girds, "you will want the flavour to set."
"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you step closer as you pinch the handle and draw the cup closer.
"Mmm," he hums, rolling his shoulders back. "I had a question for you then." You look up and wait patiently, your eyelashes clinging with your fatigue, "was there some emergency yesterday?"
"Pardon?" You gulp.
"I saw that you called but couldn't make anything out," his cheek twitches, "but I wasn't sure if it was some mistake--"
"It was. Sorry--" you cover your mouth at your own abruptness, "it was an accident. I'm sorry."
"Ah," he nods as he considers you. Can he see through the lie? Does he even care?
"It won't happen again. I'm sorry to have bothered."
"Not bothered," he assures and takes the string of the tea bag, bobbing it up and down in the water, "I have other things to be bothered with, that's certain."
You cross your arms and sway, turning this way and that as you peer around. He didn't hear but you're still uneasy. He startles you as he moves smoothly around the counter. He approaches you and reaches to grasp the strap of your bag.
“Stay a while,” he insists as he tugs and you unfold your arms.
As he slides the strap down your arm, his other hand gently brushes your sleeve, just where the bruise smarts. The tender spot thrums and you wince, letting out a hiss. He hestitates as he places your bag on the counter.
His mouth opens and closes as if he can't think of what to say. You put your hand over the bruise and grimace.
“Did I–”
“No,” you interject, “ Thanks, that was heavy.”
“Ah, yes, well… it will take some time for the tea to cool.”
You shift, just a few inches away to face the counter again. He must be lying. He had to have heard everything yesterday, it's the only way to explain his behaviour. Somehow, you've managed to sink even lower, he must feel on top of the world.
🧹
Ronan arrives just after nine. You rush out to meet him, your tea only half-finished. As he shows you his plans for the repair, you do your best to answer his questions, telling him that some details will need to be approved by Mr. Laufeyson.
You turn towards the house and see the curtain in one of the front windows ripple. You offer to show the carpenter to the gazebo but he insists he can find his own way. Before he can, the front door swings inward and Laufeyson emerges.
“Ah, you must be the builder,” he struts down the steps, “welcome.”
You're taken aback by Laufeyson’s demeanour. For his own family, he was never more than perturbed, but here he is, playing it up. You know for sure that he is, he's never sounded so… nice.
“Hi,” Ronan faces him, his bag in one hand as his other goes to his hip. He stands nonplussed as the host nears.
“Loki,” Laufeyson introduces himself as he offers his hand.
“Ronan,” the other man eyes his fingers before he accepts the gesture. There's tension in his tendons as he squeezes and shakes. “Fine house, you got.”
“A bit big for just me,” Laufeyson sighs as he's released and waves his hand at the facade behind him, “but I won't complain for it.”
“And you've got a wonderful house manager to deal with it all,” Ronan muses.
“Yes, I suppose,” he shrugs, “did you need a tour–”
“Got it,” Ronan interrupts, “I should start. Got a lot to do.”
“Of course, of course,” Laufeyson steps out of his way, “oh but there is this,’ he reaches into his jacket pocket, “the deposit.”
Ronan nods and takes the check with a swipe, “thanks.”
“I always pay for fine work,” Laufeyson intones with a certain lilt. You sense heat roiling between them but why, you can't guess.
“And I never deliver less,” Ronan folds the check with one hand and shoves it in a denim pocket, “I'll try not to make too much of a ruckus.”
They stare at each other as if in a wordless conversation. As the carpenter slowly steps past the resident, you find your voice.
“Thank you, Ronan,” you squeak after the man and he dips his hand, waving over his shoulder as he disappears down the path.
“Where did you find that man?” Laufeyson asks.
“Online? He had good reviews.”
“Mmm, you should've searched out a proper company, not some independent contractor.’
“Oh?” You frown.
“It's only… I've heard stories of swindlers,” he crosses his arms as he faces you completely.
“Sorry, I…”
“It is what it is. We shall see,” he dismisses your apology.
“Right, uh, I'll just… get back to work,” you turn towards the same path and Laufeyson's step echoes yours as he follows you swiftly.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“Inside,” you utter dumbly.
“The door is that way,” he argues.
“Well, uh…” you stop and pivot around as he stumbles to a halt, “sure, I guess… it's a habit.”
“You may go through the front, you do much more than clean now, don't you, maid?”
You're not sure how to take the epithet. Is he reminding you of what you were or telling you what you'll always be? You don't reply. You'll just sound stupid. Your father taught you sometimes it's better to just bite your tongue.
You redirect to the front door as he stays on your tail. His shadow makes you want to shrink down to nothing as he looms close. You enter and he nearly collides with you as you remove your shoes.
You press on to the kitchen as he follows. As he resumes his place before his tea cup you go to the cupboard and search out the pitcher you saw the other day and a tall glass. While you fill the jug, he clucks.
“What are you doing?”
“I'll put some water on the patio in case he gets thirsty,” you pull away from the lever, “sorry, I… should've asked. I was just thinking–”
“No, no, you're right. We should be hospitable,”
You nod and push against the lever so the water pours out of the nozzle. When it's full, you find a tray and set it beside the single glass and add ice. Laufeyson taps his porcelain cup.
“Aren't you going to finish your tea?” He asks.
“Um,” you blink and peek back at the mug as you lift the tray, “sure, when I come back.”
You turn to leave, trying not to falter as his gaze tugs at you. You go to the patio door and stop balancing the tray against the side table. Before you can even try the door, Laufeyson sidles past to slide it back himself.
“There, wouldn't want a spill.”
“Er, thanks,” you don't look at him as you pass. He's being helpful. Too helpful.
You place the tray on the glass table and go back inside. You sweep through to the entryway and grab your shoes. Laufeyson once more tails you.
“Your tea,” he reminds you.
“I know, I'm just going to let Ronan know about the water…” you murmur.
You go outside before he can catch up. You descend the front stairs and follow the curve towards the rear path. Mr. Laufeyson’s silhouette disappears behind the hedges as you round the corner of the house and head down towards the gazebo.
Ronan is at the top of the stairs, he paces around, eyeing the railings and testing the stability of the columns with a firm grip. He tilts his head as you approach unnoticed. You stand just on the bottom step sheepishly.
“Um, excuse me, sir,” you pipe up.
“Yes,” he spins to face you, “miss, what can I do for you?”
“Oh, nothing, I just… I left some water on the patio,” you point over towards the house, “if you follow the path around, the stairs are just by the rose bushes.”
“Thanks,” he says, “that's very… sweet of you.”
“Uh, well, it's pretty hot out.”
“Used to it,” he says as he grabs a thick metal clipboard and scribbles with short pencil, “but it's appreciated. Always nice to work with someone competent.”
“I…” your cheeks ache to smile, you think it's a compliment, “thank you.”
“I'd hate to keep you,” he says as he sets the clipboard back on his bag, “your boss seems to be very… straight laced. I wouldn't want to tangle him up.”
“It's… um, yeah, if you need anything, I'll be around,” you offer, bobbing on your heels, “I'll have my phone, you could message me or ring the bell.”
“I think I'll be okay,” he chuckles, not mockingly but kindly, “go on, you're right, it's too hot to be out here in polyester.”
You look down at yourself, sweat beading along your hairline as if to confirm his warning, “yeah… erm, okay. Thanks.”
You shuffle off the step, balling your fists as you walk away with straight arms, fighting not to look back. That was awkward and strange. You can only think he'll be laughing again, this time at your expense.
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#dirty work#au#maid au#marvel#mcu#avengers#thor
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I Saw You First (Part 1) ~ Part 6.5
Got this request over on Ao3 and I'm stoked to share. I hope you enjoy it!
This mini fic can be read on it's own, or read after part 6 of We've All Got Needs, linked below.
Pairings: Sanji x Fem!Reader, Zoro x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1451
We've All Got Needs Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Summary: You have a casual arrangement with Zoro, but he isn't happy that you'll be seeing Sanji tonight. He tries to get his mind off of things, but overhears you enjoying your time with the cook. Can he control his anger?
Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Angst, Anger, Mild Blood and Violence Mentioned, Voyeurism, Casual Sex, Masturbation, Penis in Vagina Sex, Pet Names, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Crewmates with Benefits
A/N: I hope you enjoy Zoro's version of the night! This was a lot of fun to write 😊
Zoro’s jaw was clenching so hard, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to eat. Knowing who’d cooked his dinner, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
It’s fine. It’s casual.
But then you walked into the galley with your hair still damp, and Zoro’s stomach twisted.
You took a shower for him.
Zoro was a hundred percent sure that the perv cook was going to take you up on your offer. To start fucking you, casually, just like he was.
Not like me. He’s pathetic. You won’t want to go back to him after tonight.
That thought wasn’t as reassuring as he’d like it to be when Zoro left you alone in the kitchen with him. He couldn’t look back, he knew if he saw Sanji’s smug face he’d turn right back around to punch it in.
It’s fine. It’s casual. It doesn't mean anything.
And I’ll make you forget him tomorrow. I’ll fuck you through the fucking wall tomorrow, so hard you won’t be able to remember the cook’s fancy hands all over you.
Zoro couldn’t relax. He couldn’t sleep, which was driving him crazy. He could usually fall asleep anywhere, whenever he wanted.
He started working out. Counting pushups and situps, but he kept losing track of the count when he thought of you in the kitchen with your clean skin, and Sanji’s annoying, punchable mouth.
“Fuck.”
He managed not to shout his frustration.
Wishing he had some fucking booze to wash down this feeling with, he thought about trying to steal some from the kitchen.
But you’re probably still in there.
He felt sick at the thought that he’d have to go eat there in the morning, knowing you’d let him fuck you there. Wondering if that piece of shit cook had fucked you on the floor, or the table, or on the bench where he sits.
Zoro slammed his fists onto his thighs, so fucking hard. He was glad he’d kept them on himself and not the walls. Usopp would have flipped out if he harmed the Merry again.
It’s just casual. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re not with him. You’re not with me.
He tried to focus on his breathing, focus on his body. Sweat was still beading on his skin from working out, and it trickled down his face to leave salt on his dry lips.
Why is this pissing me off so much? It doesn’t mean anything. We’re just fucking.
The image of you in the shower a week ago burned in his mind. He’d never have tried anything, or asked before then. You were his crewmate.
But seeing you naked, your skin flushed from the heat. He couldn’t stop himself from asking.
And you said yes. You let him fuck you against the wall, took his cock so deep. You were begging him for it.
Zoro shook the memory away as he felt himself getting hard.
It’s just sex. It’s just really fucking good sex.
He fought his mind, trying to understand why he couldn’t get a grip on himself. Why it was pissing him off so much.
I saw you first.
He knew that must be why this was getting to him. It’s just that fucking waiter. Always trying to butt in, always trying to take credit.
He joined the crew, and tried to get between me and my captain, acting like he’s the first mate. And now he found out about you, and he had to weasel his way in. Get his disgusting hands all over what’s mine.
Zoro was pacing in the small room, anger building.
I’m gonna show you. He won’t be enough for you. I know what you need. You take me so well, you take everything I give you. No way he can make you feel that way.
He had to stop pacing as his eyes went unfocused. The look on your face when he’d take you over the top. Your eyes dilated, sometimes crossing, as your mouth hung open.
He can’t get you that fucked. He can’t make you beg, make you drip all the way down your thighs from how rough he takes you.
Zoro slid to the floor, pulling himself out, and moaning as he grabbed his swollen cock.
You’re too fucking wrecked, like I am. You want what only I can give you. So fucking needy for my cock.
His head fell back to the wall as he remembered all the positions he’d forced you into in this little room. How your screams sounded when he shoved his clothes in your mouth. How you’d tell him it was too much, but then keep taking his cock like you were fucking built for it.
Zoro came, grabbing a shirt off the ground to catch his mess.
Probably the one he had shoved in her mouth the other day.
That thought made him groan louder as he finished, and he sat there slumped.
The relief didn’t last long. In fact, he felt even more anger bubbling at the image of you doing all those things with that idiot, right now. When you should have been here with him.
“Fuck.”
Zoro knew he’d go insane if he stayed in his quarters for another second, so he headed out the door. He tried not to look at any doors in the hallway until he made it outside.
Running on deck was all he could think to do, and it was better than nothing. Except for every time he’d pass the crow’s nest, and remember how you begged for his cock up there last night.
Growling, Zoro ran faster. He could have run all night.
But that fucker’s gonna come out to have a smoke when he’s done, isn’t he?
The thought made his blood boil, and Zoro knew himself enough to head inside.
If I see his smug fucking face tonight, I’ll kick his ass.
And you wouldn’t like that.
He breathed, leaning against the railing as his heart rate slowed. Zoro tried not to drive himself crazy over the fact that it had been so long since he left you in the kitchen.
Are you still in there? No way that pervert could have lasted this long. I bet you’re already helping yourself by now.
Zoro tried to keep his eyes on the floor when he made it inside. But then he heard you. He couldn’t walk away when he heard you moaning.
He stood trapped for a moment, fighting himself not to charge in with his swords out, trying to convince himself to leave.
Zoro couldn’t leave. Instead, he moved closer to the door, listening.
He’s not enough for you. I’ll show you what you need.
He could hear you whining now, knowing exactly how your face looks when you make that sound.
“You’re so perfect for me, angel. Fuck, I knew your pussy could take me. It’s everything I needed, sweetheart.”
Sanji’s voice was so soft, so fucking nice.
That’s not what you need.
“You’re doing so well. Oh, I’m gonna take such good care of you, you and your perfect pussy. Come for me again, I know you can.”
Sanji kept showering you with praise, and if not for the whines and moans Zoro heard, he could have convinced himself you were bored. He tried.
“Fuck yes, ooh beautiful do you feel me? Let go now, love. Come for me, angel. Just like tha- fuuuck…”
The sounds of both of you coming sent Zoro reeling, his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood as he shook with rage. He couldn't form any coherent thoughts now, no excuses, no reasons. Just holding himself back like a rabid animal.
All he felt was pure need.
The need to shove that cook aside, and show him how you really need to be fucked.
Zoro was frozen. He could hear you inside, your voices soft, his voice so fucking gentle.
He heard you giggling, fucking giggling, as Sanji offered to make you things, to run a bath, to carry you.
Like a fucking princess.
Zoro’s fists shook at the thought, until he heard steps getting closer.
Fuck.
Zoro barely made it away before he heard you step out of the galley. He hurried to his quarters as fast as he could.
Part of him was aching for you to knock on his door. To beg him to fuck you, to give you what you really needed.
But you didn’t knock.
Zoro stared at the ceiling, his mind still driving him wild. Now that he knew the cook’s hands weren’t on you, he finally fell into a fitful sleep, but every time he’d wake in the night, he’d think of you.
I’ll show you. You’re mine. My Needy girl.
Thank You for Reading! 💜
PART 2
TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist
We've All Got Needs Masterlist
Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969 | @onlybassoon01 | @apothicgloom | @slyhersophia | @cyberaestheticals
*Hi tagged friends! I wasn't sure if you'd like to be tagged in the extra scenes without the reader, so please let me know if you'd like me to leave your name out of these going forward.
A/N: I am loving the requests for extra scenes for this series, let me know if you have any other scenes you'd like to see! 😊
Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼
#zoro smut#sanji smut#zoro x reader#sanji x reader#sanji fanfic#one piece smut#one piece fanfic#mine#smut#zoro fanfic#One Piece smut#Reader Insert#Fem!Reader#Opla smut#x reader#turtletaub fics
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01 ★ diamond eyed girl ❥ A. HOTCHNER.
➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon.
AUTHORS NOTE ➥ KINKTOBER IS CURRENTLY PAUSED! i'm sick at home so i don't have all the usual energy to 100% stick into the fics that are left over, but don't worry! i will finish them! it just might take a little longer than the planned every other day 😅🥲
CW ➥ mention of heavy cases ⋆ mention of a lot of victims ⋆ mention of digging up remains ⋆ comfort ⋆ angst + fluff ⋆ fluff ⋆ sooooo much fluff it's almost gross ⋆ autistic!reader (not explicitly mentioned, but that's what i had in mind while writing this) ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!
WC ➥ 1,4K. SONG ➥ gotham , taffeta darling.
SUMMARY ➥ he doesn't even know where you get the little things from, small rocks, sea glass, acorns or other small trinkets finding their way to you — to give to him.
aka, three times Aaron receives something small from you, one time where he surprised you and in an upcoming second part, a few times where he gives you little things. ➥ PART TWO.
★ - © 2023 HTCHNR. do not copy, share or translate my work to this platform, or any other! - ★
Aaron being confused the first time.
he isn't necessarily paying attention to you — his eyes are trained on the gruesome crime scene in front of him and and his focus is on the officer to his right explaining everything they found. so he doesn't fully notice you, on his left, briefly slipping your fingers into his closed hand. he doesn't even notice you pressing something small into his hand.
he doesn't seem to notice until a solid fifteen minutes later when he goes to stretch his hand, noticing something drop from it. he frowns, bending down to pick up a small rock that had fallen out of his hand. did he pick it up? he doesn't remember doing so though. where did it come from?
that's when he remembers, your gentle fingers slipping between his for a brief second — and leaving it behind in his hand.
he looks at it, staring intensely at it as if trying to figure out what it means. hell if he knows, but he can't deny the small smile it brings to his otherwise usual sour expression at these types of crime scenes.
he regains his composure, the always present frown returning only slightly as he pockets the small rock and returns to the scene. he can't describe what it is about the object, but the slight weight of it in the pocket of his slacks grounds and comforts him, making this case a little more bearable.
⋆⊹✮⊹⋆
being on a tough case and Aaron telling you this isn't the time or place right now.
it was an awful case again — the amount of victims was ridiculous and they were getting nowhere with the few leads they had. the scorching sun was beating down on you all and the sand was in everyone's shoes. more and more remains were being discovered — it was weighing heavy on everyone to say the least.
yet you, somehow, had managed to find a small, smooth piece of sea glass — a pretty deep blue that you marvelled at for a little bit. you tightly held onto it while you stood off to the side as you took deep breaths. you honestly didn't know how much longer you could take it all.
Aaron wasn't much different, fists either clenched at his side or running through his hair. the sand in his shoes was starting to piss him off, the sun was causing his head to pound and with every new pile of remains that were dug up he was getting closer and closer to his snapping point.
he stood off to the side as well, though under the other tent away from you. his eyes were clenched shut as one hand massaged his temples, the other clenched at his side. he barely noticed your steps behind him, not until he felt you soft fingers faintly touch the hand at his side. by now, he knew what this meant.
"this is not the time nor the place for this." he sternly said. his fist clenched tighter, there was no way for you to slip something into it.
"Aaron-" your voice was so gentle, he almost felt bad.
"no." he raised his voice.
but you continued, both hands on his clenched fist as you pried open his hand with difficulty, shoving the small piece of sea glass between the thick fingers before closing and shoving his hand against his side. "i'm going to the station, i'm gonna break if this keeps up." your voice wavering both in frustration and in emotion, walking off with a loud frustrated huff and tears starting to prickle at your eyes.
Aaron breathes deeply, fingers still rubbing at his temples, (as if it was going to do anything). he takes a few more deep breaths before opening his eyes, the scorching sun assaulting them immediately. he takes another deep breath, then opens his clenched fist to look at the slightly sharp object that was digging into his skin — a small piece of deep blue sea glass.
instead of a comforting smile, tears start to prickle at his eyes. tears of frustration, tiredness, emotion — hell anything at this point.
he didn't mean to raise his voice at you, he really didn't.
he takes another deep breath, one hand reaching into his slacks for his phone, the other tightly holding onto the sea glass. it was time for everyone to take a break, they all desperately needed it.
and Aaron desperately wanted to say sorry.
⋆⊹✮⊹⋆
Aaron saying thank you and carefully inspecting what you brought him.
it was quiet for the two of you for once — the two of you were merely awaiting answers via a phone call, one that you weren't expecting for another hour at the very least.
so the two of you were sitting inside a café, side by side as you both sipped at your drinks, relishing the warmth spreading through you with each sip. Aaron was observing the place, (as usual), eyes darting around while you sat peacefully beside him flipping something over between your fingers.
"what on earth are you fiddling with?" Aaron mutters, eyes still observing the small yet busy café.
you grin, turning the object around for one last tome before holding it up to him. his eyes stop at a large fern in a pot, before returning to you. his brows are furrowed, until his eyes reach what you're holding between two fingers — a button. a very intricate and pretty button, covered in details and patterns. he can see why you've taken a liking to it.
he takes it from your fingers, laying the button flat in his large palm. he studies it for a few minutes, really studies it — taking in the ridges and dents, the placing of the center holes, how there are three instead of two or four.
you smile, looking out the window and onto the busy street. he smiles as well, slipping the button into his suit jacket, before taking a hold of your hand — his large hand swallowing yours and surrounding it with warmth. "thank you, i like it." his voice is gentle and quiet as his eyes return to observing the room, this time his face is relaxed and a small smile resides on his lips.
⋆⊹✮⊹⋆
needing to grab a file from Aaron's office, and looking through his drawers to stumble across a drawer FILLED with EVERY SINGLE small thing you've given him.
"Aaron!" you call out to him just as he's leaving the round table room. he looks up, his sour expression instantly softening.
"can i do anything for you?" his voice sounds equally as gentle as his eyes look.
you nod, opening up the file that was clasped between your fingers. "i need your file on this case for a few details i think i'm missing for my report, could i borrow it really quick?" you ask him, eyes pleading.
he sighs, he had almost forgotten you had asked to finish up this specific report later — you had shot more than the rest team had and had hit the unsub as well as been hit by the unsub, therefor you had more to fill out.
he reluctantly pulls his keys from his slacks, handing them over. "you know this report was supposed be on my desk yesterday?" he presses, though there's no real force behind his words. "be quick about it, i need to present them to Strauss soon."
you smile as his hand brushes yours as he drops his keys in your hand. "thank you! i swear i'm almost done!" and with that you jog down to his office.
he sighs, watching your form before turning back to head to the coffee machine.
you flick through his keys, finding the one that belongs to his office and stick it in and unlock it before pressing in to search for the file.
you set your file down on his desk before moving to the front of his desk as pull open drawer after drawer. pens, paper and ink — nope. files — but the wrong files. more of the wrong files. you don't pause until you open a drawer that causes a bunch of clanking to fill the room, you physically cringe at the sudden sound. what the?
your eyes widen as you look at the mess in this particular drawer — a shock to you as you know Aaron's a neat freak about his office space. or any space of his really.
you don't realise what you've stumbled upon until you look closer, recognising the button you gave him just a few days ago. and the closer you look you recognise the little egg-shaped pebble you gave him a week ago, along with the piece of deep blue sea glass from a month ago.
"have you found the file yet? it's in the top left drawer." his voice is tired but gentle. he walks into his office with two mugs of coffee.
you look up from where you're kneeled in front of his desk, a look in your eyes that Aaron can't describe. he pauses, "is everything okay?"
you quickly nod, then point to the drawer. "you kept everything i've given you," your voice clearly shows your shock.
Aaron visibly freezes up, only for a mere second before he blinks a few times and walks to where you're kneeled. he sets the mugs down on the desk, crouching beside you. he looks into the drawer that's opened and his expression instantly softens as he looks at all the small trinkets he's been collecting that you've given to him.
he nods, "i didn't know where i could put them at home, so i keep them here," he pauses, reaching into the drawer to pick up the button you had given him a few days ago. "it makes all the paperwork a little easier, more manageable." he finishes, twirling the button fondly between his thick fingers.
you don't know what to say, you don't even know how to react. so you merely kneel there, brows raised and your face showing a strange in between of everything you're feeling. Aaron notices the silence, and looks up from the button. he frowns as he takes in your unreadable expression. "hey, are you alright? do you need anything?" he practically rushes out.
you blink, shaking your head.
now he looks even more confused.
you finally settle on a sudden smile, your face finally cooperating with your emotions as you throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook.
Aaron wobbles a little, setting the button down before wrapping his arms around you and holding you, his heart throbs at the affection. "are you sure you're doing okay?" he asks one more time.
and you nod against him, the smile on your face only growing. "i just really love you." you speak against his skin.
his own smile grows, "i love you to sweetheart."
part two with things Aaron gives you will be out in a few days don't worry! i just desperately wanted to get anything about this fic out now now now else it would sit in my wip section for forever 🥲
#⋆୨🩷©2023 htchnr#⋆୨⭐️aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotchner oneshot#aaron hotch hotchner x reader#hotch x you#hotch x reader
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In the mood for...
March 7th
~*~
1. There's been many fics where wwx takes his revenge, or fights for himself and his place and there are people to support him in it. ITMF fics where someone takes revenge for wwx / fights for wwx. Showing a lover love for him / brother or sister's love for him / mother's or parental figure's love for him.
And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)
~*~
2. ITMF:
A) War general wwx and/or lwj
B) W ar veterans wwx and/or lwj
2A)
the wei to the kingdom (is through the prince's heart) by Bird_of_Dreams (T, 4k, wangxian, Historical AU, royal family, Tournaments, Mutual Pining, WWX levels of obliviousness) features WY as a general but the war is over and doesn't feature in the story
🔒 Crossing Paths by Ilona22 (M, 21k, wangxian, shapeshifter au, graphic depictions of violence, war between sects, war crimes, not JC friendly, happy ending) both generals fighting in a war
The Silver Thread General by Itszero (E, 70k, wangxian, Imperial China, No Powers, General WWX, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Age Difference, Bottom LWJ, Forced Marriage, Protective WWX, POV LWJ, Childhood Friends, WWX is a Wēn, He was raised by them, WangXian Centric) wwx is a general but this isn't a fighting in war story
rebuttable presumption by sarah-yyy (WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Hurt LWJ, Enemies to Lovers)
2B)
Recovery by Unforth (G, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, Rabbit Breeder LWJ, Veteran LWJ, Veteran WWX, PTSD, therapy animals, Therapy Rabbits, LWJ is an Asshole Sometimes, Doctor WQ, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Former Prisoner of War WWX, LXC is a Good Brother, Gray Asexual LWJ, Anxiety Disorder)
~*~
3. A) Hello, I'm looking for wwx centric and xz centric (this part in a YZ post ~Mod L) fics. Anything that has them as the main focus works. I'd prefer if their relationship with someone else is not main focus of the fic, rather, it's more about them as an individual???
B) Any fics where wwx leaves/runs away after everything instead of dying. Just want to see him making a life on his own, discovering himself, healing, etc. Modern aus are fine too.
Have a good day! @kthvcult
3A)
🔒 in this corner of the world by akahua (G, 4k, wangxian, Kind of angsty, Cooking, Chinese Food, Inspired by Little Forest, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Comfort Food, Sichuan Cuisine, Spicy Food, Hunan Cuisine, Suzhou Cuisine, Soup, Lotus Root and Pork Rib Soup for the Soul, Modern Setting) also fits 3B
3B)
something left to save by androids_fighting93 (E, 57k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, No Bloodbath of Nightless City, JYL Lives, Not Everyone Dies AU, Hurt/Comfort, single dad WWX, Sick Character, Golden Core Reveal, the lightest d/s dynamic if you squint, handjobs, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Dynamics) Does it count as alone if he takes A-Yuan with him?
Crazy, Rich Cultivators by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, POV LWJ, īthis started as a crazy rich asians au but quickly got away from me, light moments of angst but mostly shenanigans)
Something Warm and Safe by Winxhelina (T, 13k, wangxian, JYL & WWX, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Warm, Friendship/Love, Love, much softer than it seems, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence)
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4. Hi!! thank u guys so much for all your effort! i was hoping that in the next in the mood for (though i’d love a comp with this vibe) could i get a fic where wwx is genuinely loved by the juniors/has a good dynamic with them? I was thinking something close to what’s written in the “hills and rivers” series (and every single one where they will throw down to defend him no questions asked). Thank you! @thwispsings
Joy In the Midst of These Things series by Glitterbombshell (T, 53k, wangxian, post-canon, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, teacher WWX, trauma & recovery)
Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)
bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Fluff, basically I worked in both politics and event-planning and this is what happened, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general)
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5. In the next available itmf post, could you/the community rec any fics where wwx is involved with activism? particularly if the fic highlights the hard and sometimes dangerous sides of the work. (I have vague memories of a few where it was LWJ who was involved, but I'm particularly interested in wwx for this request.) @balleyboley
like, comment, share & subscribe by detectorist (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, YouTube, Social Media, Flirting, Humour, Banter, Getting Together, First Kiss, Texting, so much texting, Youtubers For Social Justice, The Gang Gets Political, Competitive Flirting Via The Medium Of Youtube, it’s about the yearning, YouTube Rivals To Lovers) I'm not sure if this is what request 5 has in mind but these modern AUs have some element of WY being an activist
These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 30k, wangxian, Modern, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Injury, Natural Disasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Accidents)
Keep Track of Losing Days by giraffeter (T, 74k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Case Fic, Police, Missing Persons, Getting Together, Flashbacks, Detective LWJ, antifa WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, First Meetings, Seattle, Mutual Pining, nonfatal car accident, mafia wens, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers)
Heat It Up! with Wei Ying by justpeace (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, coworkers to dating, Getting Together, Chinese Food, racism that largely happens offscreen, workplace racism, toxic workplace environment, Workplace Relationship, food as a metaphor for racism, Humor, Happy Ending, Angst and Humor, food as a metaphor for flirting, References to Drugs, Alcohol, Asian-American Character)
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6. Hi ! This is an I’m in the mood for: I’m looking for a really good long and passionate Friends to lovers🩷 @red-spacekitten
See all this and more for just ten dollars a month! Series by ScarlettStorm (E, 382k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pining, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, repressed lwj, sex worker wwx, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, hornt™, mental health, therapy is good actually, Nonbinary NHS, Gender Exploration, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, genderfluid wwx)
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7. hello! for the next in a mood for could i please get fics that have a similar vibe to “lynchpin” by shanastoryteller when it comes to yunmeg bros relationship, please??
🔒 to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX & JC, JC & LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soulmates, Chronic Illness, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Hanahaki Disease, but as a curse, LWJ says fuck, Feelings Realization, obsession with interior design, JGY is bad, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Family Angst, sibling angst, LXC says fuck, He's very stressed, soft, Wedding, LQR was in love once too, Motion Sickness, sect politics, Marriage Proposal, YZY had reason to be angry, JFM feels guilty and so he should, Madam Lan was imprisoned for no reason)
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8. haai! for the next in a mood for could i please request fics where jin guangyao feels the weight of comeuppance? like actually has to deal with the consequences of his actions instead of just dying outright. thank uuu UwU
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9. Hello I hope you are wellI would like to ask you if you could help me find fanfic where Lan Wangji is the one who travels back in time to fix everything or where Lan Wangji Furuto travels to the world of Mo Dao Zu Shi, the genre could be Wangxian or Xianwang Could you please do me a big favor and thank you, I love your work. @alfithia
A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ) Not so much LWJ time travel fix everything more LWJ time travel break things in a different way that benefits WWX
the cycle of regret by KouriArashi (T, 14k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Fix-It, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alternate Canon) LWJ time loop
A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, slow burn, getting together, first time, pining, pining while fucking, burial mounds settlement days, angst w happy ending)
The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, wangxian, time travel fix-it)
I Have Arranged to Tie You to Me by xxxMiaHikarixxx (G, 51k, WIP, WangXian, Lan protective team, Time Travel, Past, LWJ oriented, Arranged Marriage, Boys In Love, Soulmates, Fix-It, Jiang siblings, not jiang parents friendly, Soft LWJ, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX)
The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 86k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, family, not lan sect friendly, canon typical violence & gore, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, mothers who live, some people live/not everyone dies)
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10. Itmf lwj protects wwx’s virtue… “only I can look at him” vibes; jealous, protective, and chivalrous lwj.
A Baby Dragon's Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, fantasy au, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, younger LWJ, older WWX, fluff, humor, happy ending) if the person doesn't mind AUs, then A Baby Dragon's Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing is the penultimate story for protecting Wei Ying's virtue.
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11. ITMF war fics. Like actual real war. Not like how people potray sun shot campaign, but war like WW1 WW2. If it could be modern , I would love it. But canon era will work too. Thankyou.
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12. this is for itmf!
does anyone know any good Xicheng fics?
(I've already read Audience of One by WinterDreams !!)
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13. hiii thank you so much for all the work that u do! ive been reading every recs for a week now >< that said, do u have any fics where wangxian are kids and are being there most adorable selves? i've been in the mood for baby wangxian and fluff lately. Thanks again!!
🔒 If You are with Me | End Racism in OTW by Starkalways1 (G, 5k, wangxian, Babyji and Babyxian story)
藍色的花，紅色的蘭 {Lan se de hua, hongse de lan} by Admiranda, AshayaTReldai (M, 45k, WangXian, Orphan WWX, Childhood Friends to Lovers, wwx raised in the lan clan, softer lqr, Good Uncle LQR, Good lan clan, Good Older Sibling LXC)
🔒 Hope series by RoseThorne (M, 59k, wangxian, WIP, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death, Resentment, Anger, Explosions, Yīn Iron, Grief/Mourning, POV WWX)
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14. Itmf war fics. Relationship or marriage in between war?
Not That Great a Sacrifice by Winglesss (E, 37k, wangxian, historical fantasy au, arranged marriage, marriage of convenience, elemental magic, pining, UST, forbidden love, miscommunication, weddings, fluff & humor, light angst w/ happy ending)
tie a knife with a ribbon by iliacquer (E, 5k, wangxian, Dubious Consent, Bottom LWJ, YLLZ WWX, D/s, Rimming, Frottage, a lot of smut, a sprinkling of plot for flavour, war prize LWJ)
Conquering the Emperor by catbrainedschemes (E, 21k, wangxian, Historical AU, Imperial China, Emperor WWX, General LWJ, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Historically Inaccurate, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Getting Together, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, Slow Burn, Happy Ending)
what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending)
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15. thanks for the hard work admins! any fics where lwj falls in love with wwx at first sight? thanksss❤️
smoke gets in your eyes by orphan_account (T, <1k, wangxian, WIP, F/F, Modern, Chef WWX) very short but very cute crush forming, wlw wangxian
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16. Itmf good madam yu fics.
A) she's always been good.
B) she grows good as fic progresses.
C) she's like - "yeah that is a nuisance gremlin, but you see that's MY nuisance gremlin " - for wwx @constellationdks
16B)
🔒❤️ the thing with feathers by RoseThorne (G, 43k,wangxian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Fear, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect)
16C)
我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 78k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Only WWX Could Have an Empress to Farmer Pipeline, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, LWJ will grovel to the ends of the earth to make it up to WWX don’t worry, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan, not LWJ friendly)
🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) It’s a moderne AU I liked it a lot it’s a YZY pov but it is very hard to read (READ THE TAGS)
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17. Hi! 🤗
Looking for the other fic, make me want to read more fics about WWX having his own sect. I really think WWX would be a great sect leader. So this is an ask for ITMF. ☺️ Thanks again for everything! 💕 @wangxiansgirl
I think there is a yiling Wei sect compilation on this blog!
🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)
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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***
#wangxian#mdzs#wangxian fic recs#i'm in the mood for a fic#the untamed#wangxian fic search#wangxianficfinder#long post
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Friends? Never. Pt.23 (Ellie Williams x reader)
MASTERLIST (and information about Palestine) Please read!
SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.
OMG she actually posted, what a day! Sorry guysssss, when I tell you life has been crazy but I'm back and I promise these fics will get finished if it is the last thing I do!
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“I’m not sick.” Ellie punctuated her sentence with a cough that ripped through her chest and reverberated around the room.
“Ellie you have a fever, you’re sweating and you’re pale and you just coughed in my face. You’re sick.” You had been going round in circles for too long and you were tired. Clem had brought home a virus from school and despite your best-efforts Ellie had also caught it, though she wasn’t ready to accept that yet.
“Babe, I’m literally fine.” Ellie jumped out of bed before you could stop her and immediately swayed, you grabbed her by the waist to steady her as her arms wrapped around your neck. Her forehead came to rest on your shoulder as she whimpered quietly. She was clinging onto you for dear life as you huffed at her stubbornness.
“Yeah you seem perfectly fine.” You snarked at her. “Get back in bed.” The tone of your voice made it clear there was no room for discussion as you gently lowered her to lay back down.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely audible as her eyebrows scrunched and she pouted slightly.
“For what? You can’t help being sick.” She sighed but interrupted herself with another chesty cough as you brushed away the hairs that had stuck to her forehead from the cold sweat. “I’m gonna go check on patient zero then I’ll make you some tea okay?”
“I love you, so much.”
“That fever’s making you sappy huh?”
“Fuck you.” Despite her words, her tone was laced with love as she chuckled quietly.
“I love you too El, sit tight.” You pressed the back of your hand to her forehead once more before leaving her to check on Clem in her room.
Clem wasn’t much better off than Ellie, she looked sullen, barely meeting your eyes as you walked into her room to check on her. It pained you, wrenched at your heart to see them both so weak and tired.
“Hi baby, did you get much sleep?” You checked on her through the night, unable to get any decent sleep but eventually exhaustion had taken over and you had collapsed into bed next to Ellie for a few hours. You wanted to remark how much of a miracle it was that you hadn’t got ill yet but that felt like you’d be tempting fate so you pushed the thought out of your mind as quickly as it came.
“I slept okay, when will I get better mommy?” That caused a pit in your stomach, knowing you couldn’t give her an answer to that.
“I don’t know honey, it won’t be long.” You could tell by the scrunch of her eyebrows that didn’t help. “Tell you what, why don’t I take you to cuddle with mama while I make you both some breakfast? Does that sound good?” Her eyes lit up and she nodded while sniffling as she sat up. You carried her to yours and Ellie’s room and the smile on both their faces when they saw each other warmed you.
“Hey kiddo, not feeling any better?” Ellie’s voice was nasally and scratchy but you couldn’t help but smile as she sat up slightly and shifted to make more room for Clem to lay with her.
“No, are you sick too mama?”
“Just a little bit baby, but don’t worry about me.” Ellie immediately wrapped her arms around Clem as you set her down on the bed and Clem snuggled into her side as you went to make breakfast.
“Sorry I made you sick mama.” You heard Clem whisper sheepishly as you reached the door, pausing to her Ellie’s reply.
“Don’t be silly, it’s not your fault, these things happen. Just focus on getting better hm, you can go back to sleep if you’re tired.” You smiled and walked downstairs to start breakfast humming to yourself quietly.
When you returned with two mugs of tea, a plastic one for Clem, while the porridge heated on the stove Ellie smiled sadly at you.
“What’s up babe?” Her cheeks flushed as her eyebrows scrunched, she looked visibly distressed and your heart clenched.
“Started my period yesterday.” She looked embarrassed, she couldn’t make eye contact as she said it and you almost chuckled at how silly she was being.
“Oh babe, you’re having a tough time. Cramps bad?” She nodded. “Lucky I grabbed that hot water bottle then isnt it? I’ll go boil some water for it, breakfast won’t be long now. Do you need help getting to the toilet or anything?”
“No I’m okay, thank you, I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop saying that!” You scolded gently as you left her to go check the bathroom and make sure you’d have enough pads for her, luckily there were still a lot from the last pack you had found on patrol but Maria was always very good at trying to make sure Jackson had a good supply of period products for the town, people were even attempting to make reusable pads.
You finished the porridge with honey for Ellie and jam for Clem before filling the hot water bottle and taking everything upstairs, Ellie’s eyes lit up as you walked in, even sick, she was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, you’d kiss her over and over again even at the risk of getting ill but she had forbid you to try and stop you from getting sick, the thought was nice but you were struggling.
“Eat up and drink your teas, I can make juice, do you guys want juice?” You felt useless and your rambling indicated that to Ellie as you pressed the hot water bottle to her stomach, barely meeting her eyes.
“Babe, we’re okay, take a breath.”
“I know, I just hate seeing you both sick.” Ellie nodded in understanding and smiled before turning her attention to Clem who was eyeing the porridge like she hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“You put jam in it! That’s my favourite. Thank you mommy.”
“It’s okay baby, El there’s honey in yours.”
“You know me so well.” She smiled giddily before picking up her spoon and eating with a satisfied hum.
“Clemmy, after breakfast do you think you’ll want to nap or can I give you a bath?”
“We can do it after, I love you mommy.”
“Aw I love you more sweetie, now c’mon, eat up.” You pinched her cheek gently and smiled as she giggled and continued eating before turning your attention back to Ellie. “Is the hot water bottle helping love?”
“Mhm it’s perfect, you’re the best.”
“You’re cute, I’ve got a couple things to do so I’ll be back in a bit okay, shout if you need me.” You smiled and exited leaving to eat and then tidy up the kitchen from making breakfast. You could hear Ellie and Clem coughing every so often but you mostly heard them giggling, even ill and tired, they still made each other laugh and it gave you peace as you sat and ate your porridge.
You decided to make some orange juice from the oranges you had gotten from the market yesterday as they needed their vitamins and you knew they’d pull the sick card to get out of eating vegetables for dinner tonight.
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“You ready for a bath baby?” Clem nodded and smiled as you walked in. “How you feeling El? Need anything?”
“I’m okay, stop worrying about me.”
“Just won’t happen, sorry. We’ll be back soon.” You bathed Clem and by the time you were done she was nodding off so you set her down in her bed to let her sleep before returning to Ellie, finding her curled in on herself clutching her stomach. “Oh babe, have they gotten worse?”
“I’m-”
“You’re not fine so don’t say you are. You are allowed to be in pain. Want me to rub your back?” She gulped at your stern tone and then smiled sheepishly as she nodded, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.
“I don’t want you to get sick.” She practically pleaded as you sat and pulled her to lay on your chest, her cheek squishing slightly making her look so sweet.
“Well I don’t care, just let me take care of you.” You started rubbing her back and the contented sigh that escaped her lips had you grinning. “Clem’s sleeping, she’s never been this tired, I didn’t realise how much I’d miss her whirlwind of energy.”
“I know, I hate seeing her like this. I was telling her puns while you were gone and she was laughing but eventually she just got tired and wanted to sit with me. She’s not herself.”
“Neither of you are. Think this virus is gonna take down the whole of Jackson at some point.”
“Hey at least it won’t happen on the farm.”
“Just another reason to move, I’m so excited. I did a bit more packing this morning.”
“Babe wait until I’m better and I’ll help.”
“Ellie, it’s fine, why are you being so weird about being ill? You can’t help it.”
“I know, I just feel useless, you already do so much for us and now you’re having to look after us too.”
“I don’t have to do anything, I do it because I want to, I like taking care of my family. You’re not useless anyway, you kept Clem occupied and happy so I could get things done, so just please drop it, you’re perfect.”
“You think?” She met your eyes and they sparkled for the first time today.
“I know.” You smiled and bent down but she put a hand over your lips.
“Hey, no kissing, I’m not risking it.”
“What difference does it make? You’re laying all over me.” You huffed.
“It’s different.” You rolled your eyes and then spotted her tea, you reached for it and took a large gulp of it.
“See, we’ve already swapped germs, no point holding back now.” You smiled smugly as she frowned until she also smiled, relenting and leaning up to press a sweet kiss to your lips.
“Happy now?”
“So happy. If you’ve still got cramps, I can run you a bath, will probably help with the pain.”
“You just want to get me naked.” She quirked an eyebrow as she snorted at her own remark.
“I never said anything about me being there, just that I would run it. But glad to know you’re still well enough to have such a dirty mind.”
“Oh whatever.” She huffed and pinched your waist as you chuckled.
“Do you want the bath or not?”
“In a second? I like laying here.”
“Okay babe.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head and let her relax into you once more as you rubbed soft circles over her back, Ellie had always been one to suffer in silence and it never annoyed you any less, so seeing her admit, even if it was with difficulty, that she isn’t feeling her best was more than you could have expected from her. “Kinda wish you were ill more often so I could take care of you like this.”
“Erm... thanks.” She chuckled as you squeezed her slightly and feathered kisses all over her forehead and hair. “Can we just do this without me being sick? I feel like I’d prefer that.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Ellie?”
“What?” She scoffed.
“Admitting you like it when I take care of you, you’re a different person.”
“Yeah well, it’s not all bad I guess.” You laughed at her response.
“Thanks babe.” She coughed as you spoke and you realised you had almost forgotten she was sick. “Okay be quiet and have a nap now, you need your rest, I’ll run you a bath when you wake up.”
“I’m not that tired.” You weren’t even surprised when she yawned as she finished her sentence. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything, just stop fighting me hm.” Your free hand came to play with her hair and scratch at her scalp, feeling successful when she let out a hum of contentment.
“Yes ma’am.” She mumbled before squeezing your waist tighter and burrowing into your chest like it’s a pillow, to her, it was.
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“Do you wanna get in with me?” Ellie asked, hope seeping through her voice and face.
“Are you sure? I thought you’d wanna relax.”
“I’m most relaxed when I’m with you.” She purrs as she starts pulling at your top, you chuckle and help her rid you of your clothes before you sit in the bath leaving room for her to lay in between your legs. Ellie lets out a content sigh as she relaxes into the tub and presses her back to your chest, letting you lace your fingers into her hair and scratch at her scalp. “You’re so nice.” She hums eliciting a giggle from you.
“You’re easy to please.” You quip with a kiss to the top of her head.
“Damn right.” She agrees as her eyes shut and she relaxes back into you, her weight a welcome imposition in your body.
“How’s your stomach? Cramps got worse?”
“No they feel a little better actually, you’re a miracle worker.”
“I think it’s the bath that’s done that babe.”
“Just take a compliment would you? You’re infuriating.” She chuckles.
“But you love me anyway.” She can hear the smirk in your words as you speak.
“That I do.” She rasped out and a comfortable silence fell upon you both as you played with her hair and let the hot water help her aches and pains.
You started washing Ellie’s hair, lathering it with shampoo and kneading into her scalp as she hummed in satisfaction until an idea popped into your head and you had to suppress the urge to giggle. You began forming a spike with her hair, letting the shampoo hold it in place as you moulded it to sit right on top of her head.
“Er babe, what are you doing?” She asks suspiciously. You can only giggle in response as you look at the perfect spike a top her head and her confusion as she spins round to face you. “Oh what did you do?” She narrows her eyes before kneeling up in the bath to look in the mirror that faced you both, groaning at her reflection. “Seriously? How old are you?”
“Er pot, kettle.”
“Whatever.” She huffs and sinks back down into the water as you continue giggling until you decide to take mercy on her and rinse her hair of the shampoo, returning it to its original form.
“Sorry El.” You pressed a kiss to her cheek and noted the smile that had puffed out her cheek under your lips.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Yeah, I know.” You chirped before climbing out of the bath to start some lunch. Ellie moaned about you leaving but when you enticed her with tomato soup and a cheese toastie, she was quick to be quiet. You left her with a final kiss on the lips before checking on Clem on your way downstairs who was still fast asleep.
Lunch was easy enough, you put ‘shaken by a low sound’ by the Crooked Stills on your record player and let yourself get carried away by the music as you made the food, you hummed along and swayed your hips to the beat while wondering how a song about murder could be so damn catchy until you’re broken from your thoughts by a pair of hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush to their chest.
“God you look so good, I wanna tear you apart.” Ellie rasped in your ear as she feathered kisses down your neck, swaying you both to the beat of the song.
“You make it really difficult to get anything done.” You whispered as you leant back into her, slightly arching your back to push your ass into her crotch.
“Maybe that’s the point.”
“You want your lunch or not babe?”
“Alright I get it.” She chuckled as she let her chin rest on your shoulder, clinging to you like a koala while you stirred the soup in its pot. The song switched from ‘little Sadie’ to the next causing Ellie to shuffle off without a word. All became clear when the record skipped to ‘Ecstasy’ and she walked back in with a sheepish grin. “Dance with me?”
“If I ever say no to that, shoot me.” You chuckle as you take her outstretched hand and let her spin you into her so your back is once again pressed to her front, her arms wrapping around your waist and swaying to the melody ringing out through your home. You turned to face her and wrapped your arms around her waist as she pulled you in to a hug that was barely considered dancing but enough for you both. You pressed your face into her chest and breathed her in with a smile letting the song play through. You cherished moments like these, your home the backdrop of your relationship and how it blossomed. You felt a pang of nostalgia for all the memories you had already made here but the thought of making new memories in your farmhouse was so comforting.
You danced until the song finished and the soup began to bubble causing you to break away from her with a quiet groan to stir the soup and cook the cheese toasties, Ellie just observing you with a giddy smile. “I’m gonna go wake Clem up.” She said before leaving you to the quiet of the kitchen.
When she returned with a sleepy Clem in her arms you smiled at the sight and dished up everyone’s servings before putting them in their respective places on the table. “Thanks mommy.” Clem croaked out as Ellie kissed your hand.
“Thanks babe.”
“Anything for my girls, how you feeling Clem?”
“Better, I’m just tired.” Clem replied softly.
“I bet you are, once you’ve eaten you can go back to sleep if you want.”
“Will you lay with me mama?” She directed her attention to Ellie.
“Of course kiddo. I could do with a nap too.” She did an exaggeratedly loud yawn that Clem giggled at.
₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
You snuck into Ellie’s room to check on them both as they had been quiet for some time now and what you found was one of the cutest things you had ever seen. Ellie was sprawled out on her back, her mouth open, snores that were nowhere near soft echoing through the room because of her blocked nose. Clem was in almost the exact same position except most of her body was lying on Ellie and one of her hands had come to cup Ellie’s cheek from behind where she was laying. It was too cute to not capture the moment so you grabbed the polaroid camera Ellie had been gifted and snapped a pic of them, cringing when the flash went off though neither of them stirred. You stayed and watched just enraptured by them until you decided to go check on the washing you had hung outside earlier.
The sun was beginning its journey towards the horizon and there was a slight nip in the air as you brought everything inside and began folding all the clothes. It was easy to get swept up in the little things like this knowing what the reality of the world is outside. Mundane activities felt rewarding, calming even.
As you finished folding the washing, you yawned and noted how the day had taken it out of you, you crept back into Ellie’s room and climbed over the both of them to wedge yourself between Ellie and the wall, cuddling into her side. She groaned slightly and shifted to wrap her arm around you, pulling you closer into her and resting her chin on the top of your head. You laid, content, like that until sleep overtook you and you felt your body growing heavier.
You were almost asleep when Ellie twitched like she had been electrocuted, making you jump in the process. You huffed and chuckled as she was still deeply asleep before settling in again, rubbing a hand over Clem’s arm and letting your exhaustion finally knock you out for good.
a/n: idk if it’s just me but when I’m ill i literally sleep the whole fucking time like it’s the only thing I can do sooooo yeah also can anyone tell i love domestic ellie x reader, it just has a special place in my heart
tags: @emiliabby @radioheadfan699 @lil-elliesgf @isitadinosaur @amberputh @maelovescashew @a-little-bit-of-everybody @moonspowder @bready101 @euphternal @elliestwofingers @angelsrotation @drippyop @tphmnv (it won’t let me tag you :0)
#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams tlou#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#tlou ellie#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#ellie williams angst#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie x you
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this night together - chapter five (j.yh + s.mg)
chapter five: not so easy to ignore
chapter summary: things at the studio turn out just about as bad as expected, but wooyoung takes you under his wing and introduces you to some new friends.
warnings: references to a/b/o dynamics such as heat and knotting and designations, alcohol/drinking, angst, sad vibes, but also good vibes?, reference to work place sexual harassment but not like you think
notes: thank you all so much for your kind feedback on this fic. i'm having an absolute blast writing it, and i'm so thankful for all the people giving it a try even tho this genre isn't their thing! that means a lot. this is the last chapter i have written in full, so chapter six may take a little extra time. i'm about to hit a few insane weeks of work, so i'll do my best but please be patient with me. there's a lot more chapters to come though, i promise.....
pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader
genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory
word count: 6.9K
previous chapter | next chapter | AO3
As it turns out, you can’t just go back to being friends. When you wake in the morning you still feel sick, and your first thought is to wonder if Yunho does too. Maybe Mingi feels the same, but was better at hiding it. Maybe you’ll get to the studio and they’ll take you in their arms like a movie and kiss the breath out of you and hold you close and tell you they should have never, ever driven you home. But you doubt it.
You’ve been in love before, and you’ve had crushes before that. You’re no stranger to getting tangled up in emotional webs, it’s just usually not with people you work with and it’s usually so much easier to walk away. Or run, as you’re used to doing. This body, this designation, this biology, it makes everything always feel so confusing and artificial. Do you want them or does your omega? Do you need them or is it just the after effects of heat?
It’s a lot easier when you lie to yourself.
You’ve been dealing with this biology all your life. That’s all this is, and after a little time and a little distance, your body will catch up to your mind and stop feeling this way about them.
You take those aching feelings and lock them away tightly and then you get up. You shower, you take a deep breath, and then you buy yourself the fanciest coffee you can think of despite the absolute lack of funds in your checking account. This momentary serotonin will be worth the overdraft fee if that’s where it puts you, you need this.
By the time you get to the studio, you’re pretty confident that you’re over them, convincing yourself that it was just fun, good sex. Great sex, even, but still just sex.
But the minute you see Mingi every stitch of the resolve you knit for yourself unravels, and he looks surprised to see you even though it was part of the plan that you’d return today. He leaves the room before you can even open your mouth and try to say something innocuous and you know right then and there you were right all along. It was never going to be that simple.
Yunho blushes when he sees you, his ears turning a dark shade of pink and for a second he trips over his words addressing the wider group.
Mingi avoids your touch when you cross his path at lunch, offering you just a quick hello and then he’s gone again.
Instead of searching for their eyes, you start to get really comfortable with the wood grain of the floor and do your best just to focus on yourself. You’re working on something new, and a week ago you would have stayed late to fine tune your understanding of the choreography with Mingi while he waited on Yunho to wrap up in the back office, but you know those days are gone.
When practice ends they disappear, and you’re left to pack up by yourself. You give it a few minutes, thinking maybe when the rest of the crew trickles out maybe they’ll come to you, but they don’t. So much for being adults about this. You blink back hazy tears as you pull on your jacket, focused on packing up as fast as you can now just to get the hell out of this room.
You don’t even hear him coming up behind you.
“Come on,” Wooyoung says with a roll of his eyes, “we’re going for drinks.”
“I really should get home,” You glance over at him as you finish packing up your bag.
“I’m buying,” Wooyoung counters, “so you really have no excuse.”
What you really want is to go home and bury yourself under the covers for the foreseeable future. Every awkward second glance with Yunho was making you want to curl into a ball and every moment Mingi spent pretending he barely knew you made you want to go home and cry. An entire day filled with almost sentences and troublesome glances and all you can tell yourself is that you knew it, you were right all along.
You don’t answer Wooyoung, and instead you just can’t help yourself, you look behind you towards the back office, but neither of the men you want to see are there.
“Are you really so afraid of making friends you’re turning down free drinks?” Wooyoung prods your side, “That’s really fucking lame of you,”
“Wooyoung,” You sigh, your head dropping back.
“It’s fine,” He says, his voice lilting up in a sing-song, “I thought you were cool,”
Your jaw tightens.
“And I’m not usually wrong,” He goes on, “but it’s fine, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and you, y/n, are lame.”
“Fine!” You snap up and meet his eyes, “Fine, I’ll come, but just one drink.”
“Excellent,” He smiles, and you’re starting to get the sense that Wooyoung doesn’t really take no for an answer ever.
“One drink,” You repeat.
“Yeah,” He shrugs off, “come on, get your stuff, we’re meeting San at 1987.”
“Where?”
“Bar,” He brushes off your question without really answering, “let’s go,”
Wooyoung turns on his heel without a second thought, and he’s off. You have to jog to keep up with him to get out of the building, and he’s mostly quiet until you hit the evening street outside. He slows to a casual pace and turns his head to you when he says, “You like San, right?”
The question catches you off guard, “Of course,”
Wooyoung smiles, “He’s definitely all business at work, most of the time, but don’t worry.”
“Why would I worry?” Your brow furrows, every interaction you’ve had with San so far has been perfectly pleasant, albeit professional.
“I just mean he’s fun,” Wooyoung corrects himself, “he’s just really serious about the work,”
“You’re all kind of like that,” You point out, “mostly,”
“Right,” Wooyoung nods, winding his way through an alley and you divert off the main street to follow him as he leads you through the back way to their regular spot.
“He takes training really seriously,” You offer, “but I think that’s good. We could all hurt ourselves if we weren’t following his plans,”
Wooyoung grins, “Oh, he’s going to like the sound of that.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Wooyoung lays a hand softly between your shoulder blades to direct you through a small crowd, “follow that up with how handsome he is and you’ll get special treatment forever.”
You laugh sharply, “Noted.”
He points ahead, “Just up there,”
At the far end of the alley is a hanging neon sign, the ‘7’ in ‘1987’ flickering intermittently. It’s not as flashy as some of the other bars or restaurants along the street you’re walking, but that looks to be part of the charm. As you make your way up to the door and inside, Wooyoung is quick to greet a few people on the sidewalk, throw a wave to the bartender, and he throws around names and details to you faster than you can pick up on them.
San waits at a table in the far corner, two light, wheat beers already waiting on the table. When he glances up from his phone and sees you both his eyes widen but he smiles pleasantly.
“Hey!” He smiles, standing and pulling a chair out for you, “I didn’t realize you were coming, I would have ordered you something,”
“I’m not crashing plans, am I? Woo didn’t say,” You glance between them.
“Not at all,” San shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit, “you’re more than welcome. Seonghwa should be coming too at some point,”
“Oh,” Your stomach does a little nervous flip flop.
“Chill,” Wooyoung interrupts your thoughts immediately, “have a drink, make some friends.”
You smile, taking your seat and letting San push it in for you so you’re settled at the table before he returns to his own place, gesturing for the server’s attention, “What’s your drink?” he asks you.
“Whatever you’re having is good,” You make it simple.
San smiles and points to their glasses before holding up a finger and silently communicating to the server that they need one more. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, now outside of work full of easy, confident energy.
“Well,” Wooyoung smiles and takes a long sip of his drink, “this is nice,”
“Yeah,” You’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but you might as well go with it, “thanks for letting me tag along,”
“Mm,” San’s eyes are trained on the serving staff but he nods, and then stands as your server approaches, meeting them halfway and taking the beer, thanking them profusely for running it out so quickly. When he returns to the table he presents your drink with ease, “There we go,”
“Thank you,” You nod, accepting the cold glass, and now that it’s in your hand you’re grateful to have the drink after the day you’ve had.
The sip is calming, cool and crisp, and you sigh as you swallow, not realizing the way you’re being watched by both men.
Wooyoung’s words nearly knock you sideways, and a tiny piece of you is grateful he waited until you finished sipping your drink, “So, how was your heat?”
You cough anyways though, just the idea that someone would say it so brazenly, and in public, “What?”
“Youngie,” San slaps him with the back of his hand, “you can’t ask her that,”
Wooyoung ignores him, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table now, “The perfume isn’t helping as much as you think,” he says and you blanch, “and I’ve never seen Yunho stare at someone for so long in my life, so,”
He barely met your eyes all day, and your head snaps up, “He was staring?”
His mouth quirks up on one side and San swivels his head towards you. Wooyoung nods, “Like a puppy,”
“Fuck,” You breathe.
Both their eyebrows raise.
“Sorry, sorry,” You lean back in your chair, hiding your face in your hands. So much for a convenient story about them having the flu.
“You can curse,” Wooyoung laughs, “I just didn’t expect you to admit it that fast, I thought I’d have to pry it out of you.”
“Oh, this is so bad,” You groan.
“Why bad?” San asks, “Yunho’s nice,”
You sigh, still hiding your face.
“He’s easily one of the best guys I know,” San continues, “and there’s nothing that says we can’t date within the company, we’re not idols,”
“Oh god,” You groan again.
“Is it so bad he has a crush on you?” San asks.
Wooyoung breaks into hysterics and your hands fall away, a blank, open expression on San’s face as he tries to pick up on the joke. You wince, shaking your head, “It’s worse than that,”
“Worse,” San repeats, still slow on the uptake.
“Woo,” You find his eyes with yours, “please don’t make me say it.”
He sobers quickly, and takes a swig of his beer, “Right,” he faces San, “Yunho had the flu, but it wasn’t really the flu. They were heat partners.”
“Oh,” San says, “oh,”
“Exactly,” You sigh.
There’s a beat and then San’s brow screws up in confusion, “Didn’t Mingi have the flu too?”
Heat tints your cheeks pink instantaneously and you look down at your glass, suddenly focused on the tiny bursting bubbles at the top of your beer. You brace yourself for their reaction.
“Holy shit,” Wooyoung breathes, “y/n, you’re a god,”
“What?” Your head snaps up.
“Both of them?” Wooyoung shakes his head, “Tell me everything,”
“You don’t have to do that,” San interrupts him again, smacking the back of his arm, “he’s needlessly curious, but you know, you don’t have to share if you don’t,”
The words flood out of you, a small piece of you thankful that you don’t have to hold this whole thing inside yourself forever, “I went into heat at the studio,”
“What?” Wooyoung’s face softens, and you know that he understands just what that means. The anxiety, the fear, all of it.
“This is embarrassing,” You sigh.
“Then you don’t have to,” San tries again, wanting badly to save you from any further humiliation or pressure.
You ignore him and hold Wooyoung’s eyes, “Friends, right?”
He nods.
You swallow hard and then take the leap, “I can’t afford my suppressants right now,” you start and his eyes soften more, “I thought I had rationed them right, but after the recording it hit me like a truck.”
“I knew you seemed off,” Wooyoung says softly, “then what?”
“Mingi found me in the locker room, and then he got Yunho, and they made sure I got out of there okay,” You lean back, crossing your arms and biting the inside of your lip.
“Sharing your heat was unplanned?” Wooyoung clarifies.
“Yes,”
“And it was,” He searches for the right words, “I mean… were they okay? Everything was okay?”
You know what he’s asking without asking, and you nod, “Completely, it was more than okay, they were…”
“They’re both good guys,” San says, “it’s good they were there.”
“Yeah,” You breathe, before snapping yourself out of own head and reaching for your beer again, “anyways, yes, so they took me back to their place and now it’s four, five days later and everything’s so fucking awkward,”
“Hmm,” Wooyoung murmurs, “and it was good?”
You nod, lips pressed tight together in a line.
“Oh, it was too good,” Wooyoung grimaces, “yikes.”
“Right,” You sigh, “and Yunho and Mingi both made it pretty clear that this was a one-time casual sex thing, which is fine, but also you know how heat goes. Everything is all jumbled up now,”
“Mm,” Wooyoung nods, and then his eyes shift to above your head and he grins, “Hwa, right here!”
Park Seonghwa appears a moment later, a warm smile on his angular face and he pushes a lock of dark black hair behind his ear as he finds an open seat and slides into the table, “Hey,” he greets, and then turns to you, “hi, y/n, nice to see you outside the studio,”
“You too,” You smile.
San once again repeats his process for getting Seonghwa a drink, and your stomach tightens as you think about what Wooyoung might say in front of this man you barely know.
“It looks like I interrupted something,” Seonghwa says a few moments later when everything is still quiet and hanging still.
Wooyoung doesn’t say it, he just holds your gaze intently and raises an eyebrow as if to say - Can I?
You sigh, catching Seonghwa off guard, and then you nod.
“y/n just got back from heat leave,” Wooyoung turns to Seonghwa to explain, “with Yunho and Mingi.”
You expect a sheepish or embarrassed reaction, someone quick to divert the conversation away from sex, but it turns out you don’t know Seonghwa as well as you thought. He merely makes a noise of acknowledgement and glances to you, “How messy are things, then? They were both being weird today,”
“I don’t know,” You answer honestly with a sigh.
“They said they wanted it to be a one-time thing,” Wooyoung says, “but is the problem that you like them? Or one of them?”
“I can see that,” Seonghwa smiles, “Yunho kind of oozes perfect boyfriend,”
“It’s not that,” You shake your head, words bubbling up as you try to make sense of it, “it probably shouldn’t have happened at all, and I’m new, I don’t want to make anything weird or uncomfortable, but we spent like four days together… it was intense, and now I just feel like I can’t not think about it when I look at them,”
“Intense, good?” Wooyoung quirks a brow, nudging you under the table.
“Woo,” You sigh, “I’ve never felt like that,”
“What do you mean?” He asks softly, the two alphas at the table going silent to watch you both.
“I don’t know what it is about them,” You confess, “but the entire time all they did was make sure I was okay, they were so tender and kind, and when I left I just wanted to go back.”
“Oh,” Wooyoung murmurs, “you’ve got it bad,”
“My hormones are just out of whack,” You shake your head, “you know what it’s like. Have an alpha tell you they want to give you pups enough times and your brain short circuits,”
Seonghwa shifts in his seat and San clears his throat, but Wooyoung just laughs.
“Anyways, yes,” You take another sip of your drink, “I spent my heat with them, had the best sex of my life, and now I’m sitting here with a stomach ache because I don’t know where they are right now. I feel like the universe is playing a trick on me,”
“Wait,” Wooyoung starts to say, but you’re on a roll now, the single beer hitting just a little harder than it should have.
“Working here, with all of you, was my dream. I just think it’s funny that I haven’t even been here for three months and I’ve already managed to fuck it up, because now everytime I look at Yunho all I can hear is me begging him to claim me, which is insanity, pure and complete insanity,”
“Wait,” Wooyoung repeats again, hands up and out trying to get you to slow down, “I thought it was casual heat sex,”
“It was,” You resurface from your own panicked rambling and realize just how shocked the table looks, “what?”
“You asked Yunho to bite you?” Wooyoung asks, and when you nod he says, “and right now, how do you feel?”
“Fine,” You knee-jerk answer, “but, a little anxious I guess?”
“I don’t know how to explain this,” He says, looking to the two alphas for help who both shake their heads.
“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” You glance between them.
“Okay,” Wooyoung claps his hands together, “listen, I have never asked Sannie to give me pups. I have never asked him to bite me, and I have never, ever, gotten all dizzy and sick when he’s not around.”
“Hey,” San grumbles, “I think she gets it,”
“I don’t,” You manage.
“What you had is a lot more than heat sex,” Wooyoung finally settles on, and your stomach drops.
“Woo,” You shake your head again, “no,”
“I’m serious!” He insists, “How else do you explain it,”
“You’re so dramatic,” You roll your eyes and reach for your drink, but find the glass empty, “it was good, really good, but that’s all it was.”
“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa interrupts, his deep voice still calm and easy, “sometimes connections are just stronger. Scents match better, you know, everything just clicks. It doesn’t mean Yunho’s your soulmate, but if the pull is there, then there’s something there.”
You ignore the pull and flash him a weak smile, “Not for them.”
“Them,” Seonghwa corrects, “both of them?”
“I know,” You bury your head in your hands again.
“y/n,” San’s hand lays softly on your forearm, “no matter what happened, Yunho and Mingi are both still the guys from a few days ago. They’re still good men who care about you, even if that’s just as a member of the crew or a friend.”
“Can I ask a question?” Seonghwa interrupts.
“Sure,” You sigh, lifting your eyes to his.
“How do you know they don’t want you too?”
The question makes you feel awful, and you catch Wooyoung’s sympathetic look in your peripheral vision and nearly lose your composure, but the truth of it is simple. You clear your throat softly and straighten up, “They said so,”
“Oh,” He nods.
“And I’m not even sure I want them,” You tack on, “I don’t even really know them,”
Silence stretches at the table, and San’s eyes flick from yours to Seonghwa.
“Then let’s get another drink,” Seonghwa finally says, “let’s get your mind off it, and let’s have a good night. I know things are awkward at the studio, but don’t let them be. Just focus on the work and yourself and make some friends, and this whole thing will just be a funny story,”
You nod and sigh, “Okay,”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung offers, “a month from now no one’s going to remember,”
It’s around the third bar when someone brings it up again. You’re several more drinks deep, learning so much about the group dynamics that you can’t get while inside the studio walls. Wooyoung is quick to peel back all the layers for you now that you’re actually out with them and not just pushing it off a little longer for the sake of your wallet.
Leaning across the expanse of the table Seonghwa gets your attention with a drunken tap on your arm and his eyes narrow, “What’s this about you not being able to afford your suppressants?”
“What?” For a second his words don’t compute.
“Your meds, your suppressants,” He gestures, a little beer tipping over the edge of his glass, “why aren’t you on them?”
“I will be soon,” You lean in closer to hear each other over the music, “insurance window,”
“Ah,” He nods, “so what’s your plan next time?”
“Next time?” You turn your head so that his mouth is closer to your ear.
“Next heat,” He clarifies, a little slur in his speech, “while you’re onboarding,”
Your eyebrows shoot up at his words, “I don’t really know, I guess,”
“Mm,” He nods.
“Why?” You scoot your chair closer.
“I’m assuming you don’t want to,” His voice gets swallowed up by Wooyoung shouting something over the music and you shake your head.
“What?” You squint, shifting closer, bracing your hand on the table by his glass to steady yourself.
“Go back to Yunho and Mingi!” He all but shouts, “I’m assuming you don’t want to do that,”
“Fuck no,” You groan, “I’d rather take care of it myself than deal with feeling like this,”
“What about me?” He says and you laugh, but you don’t really know why. He clears his throat and shakes his head, sobering himself just a little, “Seriously,”
“What about you, what?”
He rolls his eyes, “Help with heat, I help Woo, San and I both do,”
“Oh,”
“Only if you need a hand,” He smiles, round eyes shining and kind, “or you know, a knot in this case,”
You clap a hand over your mouth and can’t help but fall apart into giggles, “You’re serious,”
He quirks his eyebrow at you, dropping his drink back onto the table so he can draw an X over his chest with two fingers, crossing his heart.
“What are you doing over there?” Wooyoung interrupts and your head snaps to the side, “Making a blood pact? You’re both trashed,”
“I am not trashed,” You insist, even though you can feel yourself slipping off the chair you’re on inch by inch.
“You’re allowed to be,” Wooyoung pushes a shot of soju towards you, “you’re broke and in love,”
“Wooyoung!” His words strike panic through you, “Seriously, stop that,”
“Alright, alright,” He throws up his hands, “broke and and in lust, whatever,”
San’s lips curl up in a half smile at his friend’s words. His eyes are closed, and he’s swaying a little from side to side, jerking back to center every now and again when his equilibrium feels too sideways. It’s entirely possible Wooyoung is the most sober one here and that thought makes you burst into laughter. San’s eyes fly open at the sound.
“I was offering my services,” Seonghwa cuts in, like he had been thinking about what to say that entire time and finally found the words.
“Your what?” Wooyoung laughs.
“For her next heat,” He explains, waving his hand like it’s simple addition, “my services,”
“Seonghwa,” San shakes his head sharply, “stop.”
“It’s not as if I’m with someone,” Seonghwa replies, holding San’s gaze intently, and for a split second it’s obvious there’s some kind of a backstory behind them all or their friendship or just Seonghwa himself that everyone knows and you don’t, but it isn’t the time to ask.
“Yeah,” San says a little gruffly, blinking hard to shake off the alcohol, “well, this still isn’t the time.”
Wooyoung wraps it up smoothly, “We’re all too drunk for this,”
“Exactly,” You take a moment of solace in the cup of soju.
“I mean it though,” Seonghwa tears his eyes away from San and a hand drops onto your knee, “you’re pretty, I’m pretty, just keep it in mind,”
There’s almost no way he’ll remember this tomorrow, so you let him off the hook with a smile and a hand on the side of his cheek, “Thank you, Hwa,”
“That’s what f-friends are for,” He hiccups lightly, and then you watch his eyes unfocus as the dizziness floods his vision and he drops his head unceremoniously onto your shoulder, “oh, God, I’m drunk,”
“There it is,” Wooyoung grins.
You slip forward as Seonghwa’s weight drops onto you and you brace yourself on the edge of the table, but San swoops in, “Come here, hyung, stop hanging on her,”
“Hmm?” Seonghwa’s eyes look tired when San gets him off you and over his shoulder, “Sannie?”
“Yeah,” San softens, “it’s just me,”
“I think I need to lie down,” Seonghwa murmurs, his head falling onto San’s ready shoulder.
“I know, hyung, I know,” San softens, and then turns to the table, “can we go?”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung stumbles as he gets up but then straightens, tucking himself under Seonghwa’s other arm once he gets his feet under him, “y/n, you good?”
You pull yourself up too, knocking back the final shot of soju so it doesn’t go to waste and pulling on your jacket, “Good,”
In the cool night air outside the bar everything gets dizzier, more watery and hazy, and something in your gut pulls hard. For a brief passing moment you wonder what Yunho and Mingi are doing right now.
San’s saying something and you shake yourself out of your stupor, “What’s that?”
“I said, where do you live?” He lets Wooyoung take more of Seonghwa’s weight as he turns his focus to you.
You give him your address, “I can call an Uber,”
“I live kind of close,” He nods, “let me take you,”
“You really don’t have to,”
“It would make me feel better,” San brushes you off immediately, “we’ve all been drinking, you shouldn’t be alone,”
“What about him?” You nod towards Seonghwa.
“I got him,” Wooyoung assures, “we live in the same building.”
“You sure?” San checks, “We can all go together,”
“It’s the opposite direction,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “and I’m tired, this just makes more sense,”
San nods and then checks on Seonghwa once more, “Make him drink some water, okay?”
“Yep,” Wooyoung salutes, rolls Seonghwa into an Uber, and then they’re gone.
Leaving you and San alone on the sidewalk.
“Let me get a car,” He says, shaking off some of his lingering drunkenness and pulling out his phone.
Of the three men, you talked to San the least. As the night had stretched on, you found yourself sidled up with Seonghwa or talking across the table animatedly with Wooyoung, but San seemed to give you a little space. He was also the one who commented the least on your recent sexual escapades and now standing in the middle of the street with him and him alone, you have no idea what you’ll talk about.
You watch as he types into his phone, lets it search, and then his nose crinkles, “Twenty minutes,”
“Oh,” You push up on your tiptoes to see his screen, “damn,”
He thinks for a minute and then sighs, “You want to walk a bit? I need to sober up a little anyways,”
“Sure,”
“Hungry?” His brows perk up.
“Definitely,” You smile.
“There’s places in our direction,” He waves you on, and you fall into lockstep with him as you wind out of the alley and back into the city streets.
It’s quiet for a moment, and you know one of you has to break the silence, but mercifully he gets there first, “You’re a good dancer, you know,”
“So are you,” You glance up at him, and he smiles.
He’s handsome, especially like this with his cheeks tinged pink with the night of drinking and his hair falling in his eyes. He directs you forward across an intersection and then looks down to keep talking, “You pick little things up really quickly, it’s impressive,”
“I appreciate that,” The alcohol seems to be less pervasive now that you’re out of the loud club and walking some of it off and you sigh, “honestly, I was staying late with Mingi a lot of nights. He was helping me catch up,”
“Ah,” San nods, “that makes sense,”
You keep walking. Normally you can get a conversation going without any problems, but with the alcohol and the late night and the fact that you really don’t know San all that well, you’re tongue tied.
He sighs heavily and looks at you, like he had been weighing whether or not to say something and finally chose to just do it anyway. “Don’t worry about what Seonghwa said,” He manages, “he was drunk, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Your stomach knots up, “he didn’t,”
“Good,” San nods, looking relieved, “he’s a good man, he’s,” San searches for his words for a moment, “not the type to proposition a coworker, that’s not what,”
“Oh!” It makes sudden sense why San was being so careful, offering to walk you home and trying to keep Seonghwa in check, “No, San, that’s not at all what I thought,”
“It’s not?” His eyebrow quirks up.
“No, I mean,” Your gaze falls away from him, “it probably should be, but I know he meant well. Plus, I know you both help Wooyoung,”
“Well,” San shakes his head, “that’s a little different,”
“Because you’re all men?”
He smiles, a little sheepish, “No, I was going to say because we’re old friends, but I guess there’s that too.”
“Ah,” You turn towards him, “well, really, you shouldn’t worry about me like that. Hwa was just trying to be a good friend, and I’m sure he won’t remember it tomorrow anyways,”
He sighs, relieved this time, “Good, okay,”
“Is that what you were worried about?” You ask.
“Between that and Woo practically interrogating you,” His nose crinkles again, “that part of your life is private, he shouldn’t pry like that.”
“I would have told him to stop,” You shake your head.
“I hope so,” He says, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with us after everything you’re dealing with. We like you in the crew,”
“You do?”
“Definitely,” He twists to meet your eyes, “you have fire. I saw it in the audition tape,”
Blush flushes your cheeks, “Thank you,”
“I’m just being honest,” He smiles.
You smile back.
It gets easier the more and more you walk with San. The alcohol slowly dissipates in both your systems, and after a few more blocks the idea of street food seems even more appealing. He refuses to let you pay and you only protest once, albeit weakly, before he gives you a simple shake of the head and takes care of things without another word.
It’s a thirty minute walk, especially at this meandering pace, but eventually you make it back to your block, and you don’t know what possesses you to turn the conversation back to Yunho and Mingi and everything it means but you do. He’s less shy to discuss it now, especially after enough time getting to know each other and sinking into a conversational rhythm.
By the time you make it to your apartment walkway, your corn dog is half eaten and your previous anxiety about talking to San is gone entirely. You gesture up to your building, “This is me,”
“Nice,” He comments, and then he takes a seat on your stoop and looks up at you, expectant.
“What?” You ask at his expression.
“You weren’t done, come on, tell me the rest,” He leans back against the railing, stretching out his legs.
“Right,” You remember yourself, flopping down onto the step next to him and running a hand through your hair, “where was I?”
“Yunho reminding you of your ex,” San prompts you.
“Ah,” You shake your head, “I mean not really, my ex was an asshole, but… I guess I didn’t know that for a long time. I thought he was nice, I thought he was the right guy.”
“And Yunho’s nice and the right guy?” He smirks.
“No, no,” You wave your hands, “fuck, I’m not making sense with this at all.”
“Can I guess?” San turns his body towards you a little more.
You nod.
“When your heat was over,” San’s expression is almost a little apologetic as he addresses it directly, “did you all agree it was just sex?”
“Yes,”
“And that you could all be adults about it?” He adds.
You nod again.
“And today you were all awkward as hell and avoiding each other?”
“Basically,”
“Listen,” San rests his hand on your knee, “I don’t know what your ex did or didn’t do, but they’re not that guy.”
“I know,” You sigh.
“But I get it,” San interrupts, “it feels like you had this connection and everything was good and now they’re pretending you don’t exist, and how is that different from any other guy?”
He has you there. You manage a nod.
“Well, I don’t know how they feel about you,” He offers, “but I promise you they’re just as embarrassed as you. It’s easy to say you’ll stay friends and that the lines won’t get blurred, but they always, always do.”
You study him for a moment, at the way he’s speaking so genuinely and it dawns on you, “You speak from experience, I’m guessing?”
He looks down and away, nodding before he brings his eyes back up to yours, “Yeah,”
“Woo?” You guess softly.
After an entire night of watching them lean against each other, touch each other, talk amongst themselves in their little bubble, you’re shocked when his mouth turns up into a sad smile and he shakes his head, “No, Woo and I have figured out how to make this whole thing easy,”
“Oh,”
“Wooyoung loves me, but he’s not in love with me.” San clarifies.
“And you?” You ask softly.
“He’s my best friend,” San says confidently, “and I’ll never let him be in pain,”
“But?” You nudge him.
“It was a long time ago,” He shakes his head and for the first time all night you know he’s told you a lie, but you let it pass. He shakes off the momentary lapse and continues, “but I know how you’re feeling.”
“Then how do I make it right?” You ask him.
“Sometimes you can’t,” He says honestly, “sometimes one person just feels so much more than the other, and you try to make it work until you bend so much for them you break.”
“I know what Woo said,” You shake your head, “but I’m not in love with them. I’m not.”
“I trust you,” San nods, “you know yourself better than Youngie.”
“It’s just this thing inside me,” You confess, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the lateness of the hour but you feel safer here on your stoop with him than you have in a long, long time, so you keep confessing. “I wish sometimes so much that I could just be a beta, that I could forget all about this and just know for sure. I’ve… never known anything for real and how am I supposed to trust anything I feel if my body just decides for me.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but then he says, “Being an omega is a beautiful thing,”
“Don’t,” You shake your head sharply, “I’ve heard that one all my life,”
“It is,” He insists, “all of it’s beautiful. Every part and piece of us is, alpha, beta, omega, all of it.”
“San, that’s not,”
“I know what you meant,” San says softly, sliding his hand into yours and giving you a squeeze, “and it would be easier to be a beta, and to not have to wonder every time. Does the person you like feel right because you like them or because something about them is a good biological match?”
“Exactly,”
“Believe me,” He squeezes you again, “I get it.”
Tears prickle in your eyes and you swallow hard to clear them, “Then how do I make this work? How do I go back to the studio and put this behind me?”
“Is that what you want?” He checks, thumb stroking along the back of your hand.
“Yes,” You sigh, “it doesn’t even matter how I feel or don’t feel, I can’t take that risk here,”
“The work is more important,” He finishes for you.
“Yes.”
“Then don’t let them in again,” San says simply, “not like before. Be friends, but keep things professional. Get some distance from this whole thing,”
“I have a feeling this is not the advice Woo would be giving me,” You smile.
“No,” San laughs, “Wooyoung would tell you to open yourself up to the great mystery of being loved or something,”
“And you’re not a romantic,” You smirk.
“No, no,” He shakes his head, “I am, but being a romantic doesn’t mean you have to let people hurt you. I’ve seen Woo get his heart broken a dozen times now, and he keeps trying. He’s the strongest person I know, and I love him for it, but it’s not the only way.”
“So what he said at the bar,” You tuck your unfinished food into the little bag and leave it to the side, “what he said about my heat?”
“I mean,” He shrugs, “y/n, this isn’t your first time. Don’t listen to him,”
“But Seonghwa,” You remember the way Seonghwa agreed, like a scent match was the stars aligning.
“Fuck them both,” San shakes his head, “just because you had a connection with them doesn’t mean they’re the only people you can connect with.”
Your eyes fill with tears again and he shakes his head when he sees your hazy eyes, brushing your jaw softly with his fingers. You swallow hard and sigh, breath hitching in your chest, “You know what’s funny about this?”
“Hmm?” He brushes your jaw again.
“I don’t even want to date right now, I just,” You shrug lightly, “I want to work. I want to have friends. I want to go out and meet people or stay in if I feel like it. I don’t want to sit on the couch pining or walk on eggshells at the studio,”
“y/n,” San steadies you, his voice low and calm, “listen to me, okay?”
“Okay,” You murmur.
“You have work to do, so focus on it. You have friends, including me, and Woo, and Seonghwa, okay? You come out with us… or don’t,” He smiles and squeezes your hand, “and the studio will feel weird for a little while, but trust yourself, it will fade.”
“It will,” You nod, “you’re right,”
He nods, holding your gaze a little longer until he gives you one more squeeze. San shifts back to give you a little space, his hands leaving you and clasping together to hang between his legs. He smiles, “Do you feel any better?”
“Yeah,” You run your hands through your hair and let out a long, tired exhale.
“Sobered up?” He checks.
“Mostly,” You nod, checking your watch, “but it’s so late I’m still going to be feeling it tomorrow,”
“Mm,” He nods, “we aren’t starting until eleven though,”
“True,”
The night is drawing to a close, you can feel it. You don’t really want to be alone with your thoughts again, but you’re also so tired you think you might drop on the spot, so you start to pull away and hope that you’ll be able to fall asleep the minute you hit the pillows.
He pushes himself up to stand and offers you a hand to help you to your feet, “Should I walk you up?”
You shake your head, “I got it,”
“I’ll wait until you get in,” He smiles and nods.
You make it two steps up before you turn back to him, “Thank you, San,” you tell him, “for everything tonight, really,”
He smiles wider, his eyes crinkling up and he nods again, “Don’t thank me, just remember what I said.”
“I will,”
“And y/n,” He calls after you as you start back up the path, “sleep well,”
“You too, Sannie,” You give him one last look before you push open your apartment door and start up the steps. He doesn’t budge, making sure you’re in the door before he pulls out his phone and starts his short walk home.
Coming home this time doesn’t hurt the same.
You hope for more of the same tomorrow.
You hope every day that it fades away, little by little.
#ateez#honeyhotteoks fics#honeyhotteoks series#this night together fic#yungi x reader#yungi smut#yunho x reader#mingi x reader#ateez ff#ateez series#yunho series#mingi series#yunho fic#mingi fic
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Happy Birthday and a merry 6 years to TRT! 🎂 🎁 🎈 🎉 🍰
🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯 🕯
Some FUN TRIVIA FACTS:
TRT's sun sign is VIRGO and its moon sign is LEO!
After 6 years, its current wordcount is 932k words. If you put that in size 12 arial font, single-spaced, this would come to about 2000 pages, and even more if the pages were the usual mass market paperback size!
TRT is now 40 in cat years!
The Man in the White Coat is my tribute to the Mad Scientist trope common in scifi, which is one of my favorite genres!
It is old enough developmentally to tie its shoes! Keep going, TRT!
Ciro is partially inspired by John Marcone from The Dresden Files!
TRT shares a birthday with literary great Agatha Christie! Maybe I'll introduce poison-based murder into the fic in her honor...
The idea of seeing threads came to me after seeing a meme about red threads tying soul mates together. Everything that came after - the other threads, the thread world, how it works, is unique to TRT!
TRT is now longer than War and Peace, and Crime and Punishment combined! So if you've read all of TRT so far, then you have the perfect middle finger to anyone who tries to say you can't focus on longer stories!
The inciting penguin documentary that Foggy drunkenly watched (which led to him declaring Matt and Jane 'penguins') was about Adelie penguins specifically!
Jane has a leather jacket because I love leather jackets and think all badass characters should have a leather jacket! And so you should you! EVERYONE DESERVES A COOL LEATHER JACKET.
The long hiatus between Chapter 4 and Chapter 5 was because I had life things pop up. During that hiatus, I realized the plotline/ending needed some work, so I spent those two years outlining, and I also wound up doing a bunch of additional novel writing classes just because I wanted to learn. A lot of this wound up influencing TRT!
The grey threads are one of the only threads that no one has solved yet!
There are absolutely some bad people working for Cyrus James. There is also a guy named Kyle. He is there not for Evil Purposes (tm) but instead because this was the only place he could work that would allow him to pay off his student loans.
When I started TRT, I thought maybe 5 people total would read it. I was told five people total would read it by some shitty people. So I wrote it expecting five total people would read it, and told myself at least I'd enjoy it, and I could use it to learn. In other words: I had ZERO idea TRT would take off like this. None. Nada. Zip. AND LOOK AT US NOW, BABY. FUCK THE HATERS, 6 YEARS AND GOIN' STRONG.
Based on my outline, we're a bit over halfway to the end!
I hope you enjoyed these TRT funfacts. And I hope you know: this fic isn't just me. It's you, too. This fic has become so much larger than just me. It's the TRT playlist you've sent songs in for that keeps me inspired when writing. It's the fanart I look at to give me a boost. It's your sweet comments and likes and kudos and messages that encourage me when I'm sick or depressed. It's the people who've made friends over this fic, or who've been inspired to write fic themselves, adding beautiful works to the community that we all use to keep going. It's all of this love for both TRT and Matt, and I'm so happy that I've been able to contribute in at least a small way in keeping Charlie!Daredevil love alive even after the show's been gone for years now. I love you all so, so goddamn much. I love this fandom. I love TRT with all my heart. Thank you so much for being a part of these past six years through cancelations, through your high school and college years and beyond, through my ups and downs of moving and sickness and fiberglass and pandemic craziness, through late night chapter drops and wild twists and turns.
And I hope the next few years as we enter the second half of this story are just as amazing!
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𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕞𝕖
Reader x Doflamingo [reader x Rosinante if u squint reeeeal hard]
Rated 18+ // mentions of sex, Doflamingo fantasizing about killing reader then decides 'nah'.
A/N: My first song fic in YEARS. This song has been on repeat for a few days and I've been itching to write something for daddy doffy 🥵 I hope you guys enjoy 💖💋
Please listen to the song Worship by Ari Abdul while reading this, it will make more sense lmao
It isn't often that Doflamingo takes time out of his busy day to search for you around the manor. There was a prickling feeling over his skin as he thought about you, a deep frown etched into his face as the time ticks on. Door after door opens - eventually, the Heavenly Demon gives a low growl of displeasure, ripping open another door only for you to not be there either.
As he moves deeper into his home, he stalls for a moment as the sound of a piano meets his ears. 'Of course,' he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes at himself as he made his way towards the music room.
He peeks through the cracked door, his frown softening slightly as he takes in your shape at the piano, humming under your breath as your fingers dance over the keys. The frown returns in full force as he notes Rosinante sitting across from you, an almost dreamy look on his face as your kept your focus on the piano.
When you finally figure out the right notes, you give a triumphant "Ha!" as you play it out a few times, clearing your throat gently before singing out,
Worship me...
Ice runs through Doflamingos veins as his frown deepens once more, leaning against the outside of the doorframe as he stares down the hall.
Make you believe,
I'm what you need,
So beg, darlin', please...
The King felt like he'd been thrown into an ice bath set on fire. The burning started at the bottom of his feet, coursing through his skin until the tingles reached the top of his head, a soft huff brushing past his lips in irritation at the feeling. He crossed his arms, his fingers digging into his clothed flesh. He couldn't place it, the unknown feeling of either anger or hunger running through him as the words flooded from you.
Who were you to demand to be worshipped?! He was the King, the Heavenly Demon, the one who deserved and demanded praise. He brought entire villages and peoples to their knees and burned them alive - he was both saviour and destroyer.
Baby, don't lie,
It's okay that you crave me -
Your eyes on my body, you're shaking,
Get high on me for you're forsaken...
While you had strength that caught his attention, he found it nearly repulsive at the thought of you being worshipped. The more he thought about it, the more rage filled his stomach, hating more and more about the thought of some worthless whelp showering you with attention and praise, your name falling from their mouth as a prayer.
He swore it made him sick.
He peeked in again, and the rage grew tenfold, his teeth clenched tightly as fire bubbled up in his chest at the sight before him.
Pretty when you're looking up like that,
Pray, but Heaven won't let you back,
Good on your knees...
His brother leaned on the piano, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he stared you down, a dark blush on his painted face. While Doflamingo knew his brother had the world's largest crush on you, Rosinante knew better than to try and take something that belonged to him.
Though, at that moment, it was your expression that infuriated him the most.
Worship me...
Your cheeks were tinted pink, doe eyes wide and staring back up at Rosinante as the words tumbled out of you. Your fingers brushed over the keys almost mindlessly, the motion a second nature to you even as you kept your attention on the man in front of you. One of Rosinantes hands went under your chin, his fingers slightly curled under it as his thumb traced over your bottom lip for just a moment, retracting his hand with a cheeky grin as your cheeks darkened.
Neither of you were aware of the seething King outside the door.
Whisper, give me your life,
Yeah, we're both sinners;
Your body is close, your tongue lingers,
You feed me the taste of your fingers...
Something snapped in Doflamingos head at your words, the intelligent man finally coming to the conclusion that it wasn't the song, or the fact that you were singing it -
It was the fact you weren't singing to him.
If Doflamingos glare could crumble stone, the manor would have been a wreck by now. He loved his brother, but this felt like betrayal - his heart clutched in a vicegrip as he wondered lightly if you were worth keeping around anymore. While you were an asset to him, his family always came first.
Worship me-
Make you believe,
I'm what you need,
So beg, darlin', please;
The longer Doflamingo remained outside the door, the stronger the feeling of crushing your throat under his grip rose. His fingers twitched, itching to summon threads and simply remove your head right from where he stood. As your song came to a finish, you cleared your throat again before asking Rosinante timidly,
"S-so? What did you think? Do you think he'll think it's stupid?"
Doflamingos' mind came screeching to a halt. The only sound his brother gave in response to your question was clapping, causing you to laugh and retort,
"Wonderful! I thought it was kinda corny at first but, the more I kept writing, the more I just... I don't know. It just, came out of me."
There was a sound of scribbling, a flicker of paper being slid across the paino and you sighed. Doflamingo strained slightly, trying to listen as you murmured out what Rosinante had written down. Your response surprised the king somewhat, his frown washing away from his face as you spoke,
"Cora-san, I don't expect him to love me back. At the end of the day, I'm a goddamn nobody and I accept that; But I'm his goddamn nobody, and that's all I could ask for."
Doflamingo remained for only a moment longer before pushing off the wall, making his way towards your room. He began thinking of the ways to tease you about this, a wicked grin slowly coming over his features as he ripped your door open, nearly shaking as he thought about how your expression would look as he pushed you down onto your knees.
The feeling of your warm mouth around his cock, tears staining your cheeks as he fucks your face, demanding that you worship him for the rest of your life. A chill ran up his spine as a low chuckle left him, a dark look painting his face as he sat in a chair, facing the door and waiting for you to return.
He would never let you live this down.
A/N: HEHEHEHEHEH a tasty lil snack for my fellow Doffy/Cora-san lovers 💖 I've been wanting to write something with both of them for a while so this is what my lil brain burped out. If you see any mistakes, no you fuckin' don't! 💖🥰 maybe I'll make a part two if it's something the people want 👀
I love u all my lil tangerines! Be good! 💖💖✨️✨️
#mandies mumbles ; fanfics#one piece#doflamingo x reader#doflamingo x y/n#rosinante x reader#daddy doffy heuheueeuueheueueue 👀#i guess this is considered a song fic??? idk how shit works anymore i just write the things 😭#ok to rb#op fanfic#op doflamingo#donquixote doflamingo#donquixote rosinante
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Hello everyone!! Today I grow a year older :3 (and I hate it lmao) FEEL FREE TO REPLY BIRTHDAY WISHES IF YOU WANT :3
So, over the time I've come back here, I've become pretty confident and proud of my once hidden passion about sick characters, sickfics and sick comfort/whump... 🌡️
And you all have been so supportive and sweet despite my weirdness so I thank you for that. You helped me feel more confident in my otherwise weird fixation <3 So, for my birthday I thought I'd try and make up a little drawing challenge for anyone who wants to give it a try... There are soo many talented artists on this site (and in this fandom)
So... It's your turn to target your faves now. You will see how fun it is and hopefully understand why I love doing it so much. 😈🌡️
(plus it's my birthday and I require some sustenance LMAO JKJK)
But yeah anyone can join in. This is just for fun though! You don't have to if you don't want to! I think its okay to ask for some food on my birthday though...right?? X'D So if you wanna do sth for my birthday...then... 👉👈 💦
CHALLENGE BELOW~
DRAW YOUR FAVE ON A SICK DAY CHALLENGE🌡️😷🥵🤧
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(Mmmmkay, I am lying to myself when I say this isn't mostly aimed at the RainCode community... X'D Can't help myself. But anyone can join regardless of the fandom!!)
So here's the challenge and the rules!! (featuring my two main lil targets ofc :3)
Regardless of who it is, put your fave through some sickness hell >:3c I'd love to see it! Make em' as miserable as you want!
destroy them 😈 jkjk XD
If you're in the RainCode community you can target anyone, but as you know, my main targets are Yuma and Makoto. If they're also your faves and who you decide to use, that will make me extra happy!
Some tips for anyone new to drawing a sick day scenario art. A few things that make it look convincing are the following:
Pajamas or Loungewear
Messy Bed Hair
Fever flushed face w sweat or at least a red nose
Tired Eye bags
Shivery body
Ice Pack or a Compress on the head
Thermometer sticking from their mouth
LOTS OF BLANKETS
Tissues or medicine surrounding them
Tea or Soup (or both)
Those are just to name some from the top of my head. If you'd like some pointers on how to make a character look ill, check out my Fever Coloring Guide. This is for digital artists but traditional artists can try it too!
You can add injury or angst to the scene but I'd like illness to be the main focus of it.
The scene can be anything you want to, it can be fluffy and wholesome (with a caretaker) it can be angsty, or it can be silly. Its all up to you! Do it for the sake of fluff! Caretaking scenes are the best for any kind of relationship >w<
Either way, have fun with it!! I look forward to see what people make if they decide to give it a try! It doesn't even have to be a full on picture! Doodles and sketches are fine too! Just show me something >w<
(feel free to tag me and say happy b-day and mention my challenge, I am proud to be known for this and would love for many to participate :3) I wanna see you take a go at it :3 Show me your style! :D
~
~~~
(wow look at me misspelling the word writing on text when I did it fine with my own hands lol)
Now, I know not everyone can draw...
Well never fear! I accept writing as well! ✍️✍️✍️
(hi vivia lol sorry for giving you a cold, at least you have an excuse to read and do nothing now haha x3)
Sickfics are one of the biggest things I live for! Any little drabbles or full fics with more than one chapter are welcome! Again target who you want any fandom you want, but I'll def be super happy if you make a RainCode fic. And even happier if you target my faves as well, but again, anything will do! Just make a cute story about your fave being miserable and being tended to! Trust me, it's super fun!
You can add injury or angst to the scene but I'd like illness to be the main focus of it.
Feel free to post your writing here and tag me or mention my AO3!
If you need a start to your fic, look on my blog for illness prompts! Maybe it can help give you a good start or give some inspiration! (thats why I share 'em :3)
I look forward to anything you try to write!
~
That's about all!! I hope you decide to participate! ✨
Good luck, have fun, and godspeed you future whumpers! 😈
(nah jk XD)
AGAIN THIS IS FOR FUN! NO PRRSSURE IF YOU DON'T WANT TO!
#pixeldoodles#my art#art challenge#illness whump#sick whump#whump community#rain code#whumpcode#artists on tumblr#digital artist#fever whump#cold whump#whumpblr#whump ideas#whump scenario#sick art#sickfic#sick day challenge#yuma kokohead#makoto kagutsuchi#vivia twilight#shinigami rain code#IM A LITTLE NERVOUS ABOUT TRYING THIS#but idk it sounded like a fun idea... >w<;#plus it was fun to design the challenge pages#pretty much used the color replacement tool on photoshop to make it all purple LMOA#but yeah if you wanna give it a try I would love to see what you come up with!!#especially from the raincode community... XD#be sure to show me!! >w<#thanks for reading if you did!
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Capricious feelings
Atsumu x gn!reader
(this could be read as pre or post timeskip tsumu so have fun with it 💙)
I am back on my "haikyuu fics based off vocaloid songs" grind after the first one was moderately successful, so I bring you:
Kimagure Mercy and Atsumu except the ending is good because i am smitten for atsumu and cannot write him as an asshole even though he absolutely would be one😭
Warnings: a few swear words, sort of angst to sort of fluff
He's calling you again. You only roll your eyes, waiting for your phone to stop ringing and turning away to focus on whatever else you're doing.
You know why he's calling, anyways. It's cuz he wants your help, or wants to borrow some money, or has some other favour that he wants from you.
You see, Atsumu's your boyfriend on paper, but in practice, things couldn't be more different. The "relationship", if you can even still call it that, is on the verge of collapsing. He only ever calls you when he needs favours, constantly making excuses for his distant behaviour.
The phone stops ringing, and you take a breath of relief, only for it to start ringing again a few seconds. God, he must really want a favour if he bothered calling twice in a row. You sigh, picking up the phone.
"Hi, how are ya?" He's using a sweet, gentle tone to butter you up as always. You regretfully know all of his little tricks by now.
"I'm fine. Why are you calling?" You're aware that you sound a little cold and harsh, but what's the point in useless small talk when you already know that isn't why he's calling?
"Come over, will ya?"
Those words froze you for a second. Whenever he asked you to come over, it would always end with him sucking your face off and then ignoring you until you leave. It always leaves you feeling sick and empty, knowing those kisses mean nothing to him.
Yet someway, somehow, you find yourself feeling giddy whenever he takes your hand or wraps his arms around your waist. And you hate that you do.
You absolutely hate the thought of falling in love with him. Not with that selfish, self-obsessed asshole who only uses you for favours and doesn't give a damn about you. But your heart insists on betraying your mind, your reason.
"Are ya there? You've been real quiet..." his voice snaps you out of your train of thought. "Yeah, I'm coming."
You don't know why you still bend to his will every time, you could easily say no, break up with him and never talk to him again. Maybe you actually do know why... and you don't like the reason.
"Lovely, I'll be waitin'. Bye now." he hung up the phone. As always, he has you wrapped around his finger, otherwise you wouldn't be making your way to his house right now. You live relatively close to him, so the walk isn't long. You briefly think about turning around and going back home. But once again, your stupid heart wins.
You ring the doorbell, and a sudden wave of regret flushes over you. Should you really be falling into his arms again? Should you have ignored your mind, telling you to turn back?
Before you even have a chance to run away, the door opens. "Heya, sweets. Come on in." That smile is a deceptive mask, and you know it. You silently walk in, sitting down on the couch, your usual make-out spot. You just have to get it over with and hope your stomach doesn't churn from guilt later.
He sits down beside you, and you close your eyes in anticipation to be roughly grabbed by him. But it doesn't come.
"Are you good? Ya look a lil' pale." the concern in his voice was completely unexpected.
"Since when do you care how I'm doing?" You have no idea what came over you in that moment. Normally you would brush it off, lie to him, or assure him you're fine. But he'd never asked you that with such concern before, and you don't know what to do with yourself anymore.
"I'm yer boyfriend, of course I-"
"Oh, shut up! You only care when you want a favour from me!" You stood up, clenching your hands into fists. "You don't actually give a damn about me, do you?! You don't love me, you only love yourself!!" All your repressed feelings suddenly came spilling out.
He looked awfully surprised by your behaviour, probably because you finally didn't bend to his will once. Because you finally said what's on your mind. It felt good, but at the same time, your heart felt a pang of pain once the words you said finally registered in your brain.
"I... this is what I called ya over for, actually...." he looked to the ground, wearing a solemn expression. His mask of confidence was breaking.
"...What?"
"I know that I'm a horrible boyfriend, but I'm goin' ta fix that." He looked back up at you, determination shining in his eyes.
This was a conversation you never ever expected to have. Is this a cruel prank? Would Atsumu do that to you?
"I don't... understand. Why now?" You weren't sure what to think right now. You're honestly thinking too many things, feeling too many emotions at once right now.
"Because, I ended up realisin' that ya deserve better than this. Honestly, yer too good fer me." Knowing Atsumu, it must've taken a lot for him to throw away his pride and ego just to admit this.
At your silence, he continued. "My point is, I wanna be better for ya, give this whole love thing a shot, ya know? But if ya really feel that way, you can break up with me, I won't mind..."
"Atsumu, you ass." He flinched slightly at your response, searching your face for your emotions. "You can't do this to me." Right when you finally felt strong enough to call him out, he decides to pull you right back in and make you feel all horrible.
You sigh. "You're a lucky man, Atsumu. But these better not be empty promises." Your hopeless heart wins you over once again. Yet this time, you feel assured. Assured that Atsumu will do the right thing.
Atsumu finally felt like he could breathe again, placing a hand on his chest. "Would I ever break a promise I made?" He asked with a relieved smile.
"Honestly.... you seem like you would." You rolled your eyes playfully.
"Hey, I didn't promise to better myself just so you can insult me!"
#˗ˏˋ ★ ☁︎ 「Wolfie’s works」 ☾ ★ ˎˊ˗#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu x reader#haikyu x reader#atsumu miya#atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu#hq atsumu#msby atsumu#x gender neutral reader#gn reader
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I can't quite believe this was first in my drafts in feb and I've only gotten to actually writing it these last two weeks.
This fic was based off of five songs from spotify shuffling one of my playlists which was an idea inspired by @trulytiredhermit and then it kinda just went from there
the songs that I based it on were: To my enemies - Saint motel, stalker’s tango - Autoheart, meet me in the woods - Lord Huron, The red means I love you - Madds Buckley and Bitter water by the oh hellos
You know they say you're nobody until someone wants you dead, and I can't help but feel like it's morbidly accurate for everything that's happened to me recently.
That weird shadow brought me here for whatever, most likely because it wants my head for some reason. and then all of a sudden?
I'm one of the most important people to the heroes of Hyrule, brought here by fate for whatever reason and they all love me… although love might not be the best way to describe it. If you were to ask any of them they'd say "It feels so wrong it's right" Heh how ridiculous to be that obsessed, so I ran as far as I could, lost in a world that isn't my own and one that shouldn’t exist out of fiction. Those boys that I once cared for; who promised me they'd find me someway home, but talk is cheap after all and it's oh so effortless to lie when it brings you so many benefits.
The situation was so incredibly strange, I don't think there's any amount of time where I could've gotten used to it despite what they would say. it started, well I can't say normally as nothing about this is normal, but it started well. they were themselves, they were still sane. but then they started to slip letting me out of their sight, less and less and less until it was like I had to be in at least one of their line of sight at all times, they wouldn't let me talk about my home, wouldn't let me focus on things that weren't them always trying to justify it whether it was to me or themselves I could never tell. Perhaps it was both?
This little journey I’ve taken into the unknown?
Oh, I’ll go back changed, I wonder if those I cared about would even recognise me at this point. How long have I been away at this point, it feels like ages yet my phone says it’s only days. Well in the games back home the games always ran on a much faster time scale, it wouldn’t be impossible that I’m still running off of real-world time; if anything it makes more sense with how I’ve not needed to eat or sleep for days on end. I’ve never been away from the links for this long, not since I started travelling with them that is. They’re probably worried sick at this point; it’s probably only a matter of hours until they do manage to find me. Until Wolfie sniffs me out, Sky uses Fi to dowse for my signal, or even Wild traces me with his slate.
“[name]?”
And with that last thought it’s as if I’ve jinxed myself and my hiding spot. The one thing I can be glad for is that it’s Sky who found me, while his anger is terrifying it’s not on the same level as Time, Warrior or Light forbid if Legend was the one to find me. Sky is oh-so-nice compared to them, even if he is a yandere with a strange fascination, a near-obsessive infatuation.
he still treats me like I'm a person though, so there's that. He, I think if I were to end up with any of them it would be him.
"oh by Hylia, [name] are you alright? you've been missing for so long, we thought you were kidnapped, but by the looks of it, you've managed to escape them! even, even if it did leave you hurt"
his smile doesn't look right. he's lying, lying straight to my face...
but it's not like he's lying to me. No, it's like he's trying to convince himself that's what happened. His concern is sweet despite how misplaced it may be; I can't bring myself to break it to him that it's not what happened. Unless...
I couldn't, could I?
oh, but I could.
"link, I- I wasn't kidnapped. I was scared of how the others are acting, I didn't feel safe so- so I ran as far as I could"
This affected me more than I thought, seeing as I could barely finish the sentence without stuttering or coming close to bursting into tears, I hope he reacts the way I want him to and by the look of it, he will.
His face instantly fell when I said that, filled with pity and something else I can't quite put my finger on, the closest thing I can think of is pride but even that doesn't seem right, is, is he smug? Why would he be smug that I’m scared of the others when I…
“Oh my dove, you don't need to be worried now, I'm here. I'm the only one you trust after all; the only one of us you need. you're my betrothed, my one true love until the end of time"
his"betrothed", when did he- how would he- how didn't I realise? Is Skyloftian culture so different to my own? oh, what am I saying of course it's that different. why is he reaching for - the feather? he proposed when he gave me that earring, didn't he?
"I knew I made the right choice when I chose you as mine, we’re perfect for each other can’t you see? And I know I shouldn't love you, I know I shouldn't love you but I do and nothing will separate me from you again as long as I draw breath.”
And isn’t that the truth, that look in his eyes, that stupid lovesick look. I’m not a fool entire for I know exactly what it means. The idea that even if I somehow made it home…
He would find me.
And he would never let go.
How are you even supposed to respond to something like this? This declaration of ownership, that no matter what I do I’m his. To think how I idolised him when he was nothing more than a game character, how naive was I?
Even still I can’t bring myself to hate him, even if he’s a walking red flag. Even if he’s someone I should run from in fear - It’s still Sky, still the only one to welcome me with open arms, the only one to treat me ever so kindly when I was petrified of everything.
Part of me is telling me to leave, to do what's smart and practical. But another part is pulling me towards staying, following my heart even if it means taking a risk. I know I’d have regrets either way for I would be losing something I care for no matter my choice and I’ll need to say something soon to him, even if it’s a lie. I can’t bear to see him so worried, even knowing where that worry is from.
I don't know what the right choice is, but I know that I have to make a decision. And no matter what I choose, I'll have to live with the consequences.
#I got the songs from shuffle in feb????#IT'S MAY??#HOW MUCH TIME HAVE I LOST CAUSE OF COURSEWORK???#yandere linked universe#yandere linked universe x reader#linked universe x reader#link x reader#lu sky#lu sky x reader
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