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pinkanonwrites · 1 year

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I’ll Take Care Of You

“It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

My Vash/Reader sickfic that I’ve been promising! I’ve been dinking around trying to get it to a place I like and I like it now, so time to post! Read on AO3 here!

Vash/Reader, 3,700+ words, GN!Reader, sickfic, sick reader, comfort, worried vash, non-sexual nudity, cuddling, sharing warmth, emeto/vomit warning

It's strange, when you're feeling unwell, how easy it is for the tiniest things to set you off.

There are plenty of day to day irritants in life, especially living on a desolate sand ball like No Man's Land. For the most part you'd learned to take many of them in stride, laughing when you could, letting the emotions roll over you like a wave when you couldn't until they receded softly back into the recesses of your mind and you could once again roll over and face the day ahead. It helped to have good company, and despite the crowded dune-crawler and the constant driving it entailed, you usually found somewhere amidst the chaos to enjoy yourself.

Not today.

You already hadn't felt well leaving the previous town, head and stomach swimming too much to risk eating more than some dry crackers and lukewarm canteen water, and even that made your innards pitch and roil dangerously. The car was constantly shifting, massive tires ping-ponging the entire chassis back and forth whenever you climbed over a particularly rocky bit of terrain and doing absolutely nothing to soothe the vertigo pooling in the bottom of your brain. It was too hot, too cramped, and worst of all?

Too. Damn. Loud.

Wedged between Wolfwood and Vash in the backseat, you had no escape from the blond's excessive snoring on your left and Nicholas leaning up over the center console to pester Meryl about her driving. Of course she was snapping back with equal levels of vitriol, voices rising slowly with each back and forth. In the passenger seat Milly was giggling along to their vicious banter, occasionally peppering in comments or fiddling with the radio dial, weather reports and religious sermons screeching through the fuzz.

The static of the radio crackled, Meryl's window-mounted fan clicked sharply with each rotation, Vash's head made a soft thunk as it connected with the glass of his window and Wolfwood kept hitting you with his elbow as he reached over the console and Milly was laughing and Meryl was yelling and Wolfwood was yelling back and-

"Hic…"

Your wet, little gasp silenced the car's occupants like a gunshot, your own hands too slow to stifle it from coming out. You could feel everyone's attention turn to you, even Vash beginning to stir to your left, and you couldn't tell if the heat flushing to your head was humiliation, sickness, heatstroke, or some miserable combination of the three. But you do know that said heat and said gazes made you curl up in the middle seat, covering your face with your long sleeves as you let out another miserable little sob.

"Are you alright back there?"

"Oh no, please don't cry! Do you feel carsick?"

"H-Hey, it's gonna be alright. Is this cause I kept hittin' ya with my elbow? Cause I said I was sorry."

You sobbed again, tears and snot and sweat running down your face and wetting your shirt sleeves as you pulled your knees up, curling as small as you could get. "'M sorry, 'm sorry, I'm fine."

"You're not fine! Did something happen?" Meryl couldn't look away from the road, but Milly had all but fully turned around in her seat to check on you.

"Do you need some water? I still have some if you're all out."

"C'mon, birdie, don't go all silent on us."

You wanted to shrivel up and dissolve into sand in the middle seat, curling in upon your own body as if it may actually make you disappear. This didn't help, it wasn't helping, it was just more noise and more worry and more hot tears running down your cheeks and you just wanted it all to stop.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Pulling your head up from your knees, you were met by Vash's hand gently brushing your forehead. His palm rested there, warm and steady, as he looked you over with a soft concern.

"You feel pretty warm. Is everything alright?" As he pulled away he brought his thumb down to swipe a stray tear from your cheek. You wanted to bawl, to clamber into his arms and let him cover you with his coat, shielding you from the heat and the noise and the (brightbrightwaytoobright) sun. But when you opened your mouth to speak, tongue dry and unsteady, you instead croaked out four, painfully small words.

"I'm gonna throw up."

"...Eh? EH?!? H-HANG ON!" You were jostled back by the force of Vash diving forward, clapping both hands over your mouth with a low groan. Your stomach pitched wildly, thick saliva pooling in the back of your throat as Vash jammed himself over the center console. "PULL OVER!"

"Wh-What? Why?" Meryl yelped when Vash exploded into her line of sight.

"JUST DO IT! PLEASE?!?"

She hardly needed to 'pull over' in the stretches of open desert, but the dune-crawler rumbled and bumped to a jerky halt that only served to make your stomach sickness worse. Not even waiting for Vash to unbuckle his seatbelt, you clambered over his lap and opened the door, collapsing to the ground just in time to empty the meager contents of your stomach into the hot sand. There was hardly anything to hack up, everything you'd eaten over the course of the day splattering out with a few shivering gags. But your body continued to retch out of your control, fresh tears dripping off your cheeks and into the puddle as you helplessly dry heaved on your hands and knees.

"Hey, hey, you're alright. Deep breaths, okay? I've got you." There was a cool hand brushing your hair back from your sticky forehead, and another rubbing the small space between your shoulder blades.

Finally, when your stomach had finished cramping and the last thick glob of saliva had drooled from your open mouth onto the sand, your body pitched forward dangerously, elbows collapsing from exhaustion. You would have face-planted straight into your own mess if Vash wasn't there to catch you, hauling you backwards so you could slump weakly against his chest as he sat with you in the sand. You could hear shuffling around you, footsteps, but your eyes were still blurry with moisture as you squinted weakly in the afternoon sun.

"Thanks, Milly. Here, drink this." You felt the rim of a canteen press to your lips, and let Vash tip your head back to take a swig of water.

"Don't drink too fast now, or you might get sick again!" One of Milly's large hands gently caressed the top of your head. "We've got plenty of time to get to the next town, so take as long as you need!"

"I'm sorry." You whimpered again, feeling twice as pathetic in the face of everyone's kindness. You could hear Meryl click her tongue somewhere off to your right.

"You don't have to apologize! Everybody gets sick sometimes, it's just a thing that happens."

"Yer lucky we're planning on a hotel tonight, way better than sleeping in the sand-OW! HEY!"

"Dingy!?"

"Quit being a jerk! They already don't feel good and you're not helping!"

"How am I not helping?" Wolfwood hissed. "I'm reminding them they don't have to sleep in the back of a dingy car all night!"

"Ooh, boy. There they go again." Vash sighed out a chuckle, hand never pausing as he carefully rubbed your upper arm. "Whenever you feel up for it, we can get going. Okay?"

As Meryl and Wolfwood continued to bicker quietly in the background, you let yourself melt fully into Vash's chest. His prosthetic arm came around your waist to keep you from slipping too far down, and you lolled your head back against his collarbone as your eyelids fluttered. "I'm sorry…" You slurred again, even though by this point you knew the apology was not necessary. "Jus' don't feel good…"

"You get a little silly when you're sick, don't you?" There was a teasing tone to Vash's voice, one that made you feel all warm and cozy in your chest. "You're being very polite right now."

"'M tired, Vash." You whined, rolling to your side a bit to nuzzle your cheek against his chest.

"I know." He said, so soft and so fond. "When we get back in the car, you can lay on me, alright? Then you can sleep the whole ride there. I promise."

"Mmh, yes please…"

You couldn't remember exactly how long you spent on the ground, just the vague feelings of Vash helping you to your feet, buckling your seatbelt for you after you clambered weakly back to your spot. As soon as he was seated he twisted his body towards you, leaning back against the car door so you could sprawl yourself out across his chest. And sprawl you did, fingers clutching absently at his coat as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck with a content little sigh. The dune-crawler rocked slightly as your other friends climbed into their respective seats, but with your cheek pressed to Vash's chest it didn't make you feel so dangerously nauseous anymore.

"Try getting some rest. We'll wake you up in the next town." His metal hand found the small of your hip and rested there, keeping you curled safely against his chest as the engine rumbled back to life. Eyelids dipping heavily, you mumbled out a few clumsy words of appreciation before blackness overtook your vision.

"Thank you… Vash…"

You didn't jostle blearily awake again until Meryl had already paid for your respective hotel rooms, letting you rest slumped against Vash in the backseat while she chatted with the man at the desk. Given the size of the town itself, it made sense that there would only be a few rooms available. Fortunately Meryl was able to book two doubles and a single, leaving you with your own space to recuperate while the rest of the group split the two double rooms between themselves.

"We'll be right across the street, okay?" Vash gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder as he pointed out the window of your hotel room to the nearby diner. "Try and get a little more rest, and I'll bring you back something for dinner!"

“Mhm… I will.” You mumbled. You'd let your travel bag thunk loudly to the floor next to your bed as you collapsed into the mattress. Some of the vertigo had subsided after your extended nap, but you hardly wanted to push your luck by trying to go out to dinner with everyone else.

"There's even a bath if you want to take one, might help you feel better." Vash gave a final, soothing rub to the space between your shoulder blades before you could hear him stepping away, boots thudding softly on the wood floor. "I'll be back before you know it. Sleep well."

"Have fuuuun." You sighed out, door clicking shut behind him and leaving you in silence. As tired as you were, there was a tacky sweatiness to your skin, sickness and desert heat making you feel distinctly gross to the touch. Maybe a bath would be a good idea after all…

Reluctantly, you slumped into a seated position before getting back to your feet. The bathroom was larger than you'd expected for the size of the inn, and your vision swam slightly as you reached over to fiddle with the knobs and start the sudden rush of water. It was even warm; how much did this place cost? Distantly you felt a little prickle of guilt, Meryl was probably spending extra just to make sure you could rest in a vague semblance of comfort. You'd have to be sure to thank her profusely, when you could actually think straight. You clumsily shed your clothes, letting them fall to the tiled floor as you slipped into the warm water and toed the knob back off again with your foot.

It felt good at first, dunking your head under the water and coming up again with a soft huff as rivulets ran from your hair. But you were far too tired to even wash yourself properly, and though the water barely bordered on warm, something about the heat made your dizziness spike all over again. You couldn't even bring yourself to stand back up to get out, slumping against the side of the tub and resting your cheek on the cool ceramic edge. All you needed was to close your eyes for a moment, and once the spiraling in your head stopped you'd be fine to climb back out again. You'd just get a little more rest in the meantime…

"Heyyy, are you feeling any better? I brought you some soup! We just need to bring the bowl back tomorrow morning."

Vash knocked twice on your door, but received no response. Man, you must be really exhausted. Your bedroom light was visible from the street, so when he saw it on he'd assumed you were still awake. He tried the handle, finding your door to still be unlocked.

"I'm coming in, okay?" He twisted the handle, hesitating just a moment before adding. "...Don't be naked!"

He shouldered the door open, one hand holding your lidded bowl of soup and the other covering his eyes. Kicking the door shut behind him, Vash hesitated a moment before peeking through his spread fingers. Your room was empty, bed still made, bag exactly where you'd dropped it just before he left. Vash's stomach sank, quickly setting the bowl on the table as he called out your name. You wouldn't have gone somewhere, would you? Did someone see him bringing you into the hotel, maybe peg you as a sidekick of The Humanoid Typhoon? There weren't any signs of a struggle, though. Maybe you were sicker than he thought, and he'd left you all alone when you were at your most vulnerable. His gaze flickered around the room, grasping for any sign of where you may have gone or what might have happened.

Finally, it landed on the bathroom door. It wasn't open when he left, and a slim trail of light was glinting from the gap between it and the doorframe. There was silence beyond it, a blistering, agonizing silence. He took two hesitant steps forwards, knocking shakily on the doorframe, before finally nudging it open and letting himself inside.

His heart twisted and stammered in his chest when his gaze finally landed on you, rabbiting up into a thundering panic when you didn't even acknowledge his entrance. You were slumped in the bathtub, one arm hanging over the edge and your cheek lolled against the rim of the basin, eyelids shut but fluttering weakly. There was a sickly pallor to your skin, and even from a distance Vash could see the goosebumps that had broken out across every stretch of it currently visible to him. You were even shivering, hard.

"H-Hey!" He didn't have time to be flustered at your state of complete undress, too busy stumbling forward to lift your limp and unmoving body from the bath. The water was cool, almost cold as he dunked his arms in, soaking the sleeves of his shirt and jacket as he hooked you under the armpits and pulled you into his arms. Letting himself sink to his knees so you could rest in his lap, he let go of you with one arm for just a moment, just long enough to grasp blindly at a towel on the counter to bundle you in. Your head thunked limply against his chest as soon as he had you wrapped in the towel and back in his arms. "Hey, can you hear me? I've got you now, it's gonna be okay."

It didn't feel like it was going to be okay, not to Vash at least. His stomach was swimming with guilt as he carried you back out to your bed, bundling you in the sheets and using the towel to dry the tips of your hair that were still damp. You were still shaking, thin blankets doing far too little to bring the warmth back to your body. Of course there wouldn't be any more stored in the hotel room either; it wasn't like anyone needed them most of the time anyway. He could dip back down the hallway and grab the blankets from his own bed, but that meant leaving you alone again, even for just another few moments. The thought made Vash feel vaguely sick himself.

Only one thing he could do then.

Vash shucked off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair, hesitating for a moment before doing the same with his turtleneck. Waterlogged sleeves clung to his arms as he wrestled the damp thing off, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor before moving back to your bedside. He tugged back the top blanket, leaving you swaddled in the sheet as he clambered in next to you and pulled the blanket back up to his chin. You let out a soft sigh through your nose as you curled instinctively into his warmth, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. Oh so hesitantly, like you were made of fine china, Vash draped an arm around your bundled form and splayed his hand out wide along the small of your back.

"I'm sorry…" He murmured, clutching your shuddering body like you would dissolve away between his fingertips if he relaxed, even for a moment. "I'm so sorry. I should have stayed. I won't leave again. I'm sorry."

"Mmmrh… Vash?"

He jolted, cupping your face with a hesitant call of your name as you blinked miserably awake. Head thumping and body aching, you squinted until Vash's face phased into clarity, all quivering lip and furrowed brow and stinging, glassy eyes. Weakly, you wrestled a hand free from the sheet, wiping at the corner of his eye with your thumb. He choked on a sob, melting into your palm with a relieved gasp.

"You're okay."

"Mmh… Head hurts a lot. What time is it?" You grumbled. The last thing you remembered was stooping down to run yourself a bath, then the rest of it faded into a hazy blur. Vash sniffled, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"Evening. Probably around 8? You passed out in the bath… It was really cold."

Fragmented memories began to click back into place, and you gripped the sheets close to your body with your free hand as you suddenly processed your own nudity. A spike of humiliation shot through you, as dulled as it was by your swimming senses.

"God, I'm sorry. I didn't scare you too bad, did I?"

Vash didn't respond, but the look on his face gave you all the answer you needed.

"Oh, honey." The sheets were tucked close up enough to your chest that you didn't hesitate to free your other hand to cup his face as well. His gaze trailed off to the corner of his eye, unable to keep contact with yours. "I'm so sorry, you must have been so worried."

"I-It's alright! It's not a big deal, really. I'm just glad you're okay."

You didn't relent, not yet, instead leaning in and pressing a kiss to the center of his forehead. "It is a big deal. I scared you, didn't I?"

"Not on purpose or anything."

"That doesn't mean it didn't feel real. Oh, Vash." His breath hitched when you murmured his name, another fresh tear or two slipping down his cheeks. "I'm okay. You found me and I'm gonna be alright, alright? I'm right here."

A tiny, pained whimper escaped him as he bundled you into his arms, hiding his teary face in the crook of your neck. Both flesh and metal hands fisted the fabric draped across your back as he pressed a kiss to the soft space in between your neck and your shoulder. "I shouldn't have left. I should have made sure you were okay. I shouldn't have told you to take a bath."

"Hey, hey, hold on. You didn't make me do anything, I chose to take a bath. None of this is your fault, Vash. Things happen sometimes." Your cradled the back of his head in one hand, and rubbed soothing circles across his broad back with the other. "You came to check on me, and you found me, and you got me warm. You're so good, Vash. My wonderful boy."

He sniffled against your neck again, but you could feel the faintest hint of a smile pressed against your skin. "...I brought you some soup. Are you hungry?"

You hummed, trailing your fingertips up and down the jut of his shoulder blade. "In a little bit. Can you warm me up a bit more first? You're like a living space heater."

Finally, you could feel some of the nervous tension begin to eke out of Vash's muscles as he began to melt into your arms. He tugged you forward, just enough that your fronts were pressed together from the chest all the way down to where your legs intertwined, thin fabric sheet separating your bare chests.

"Good? Not too warm?" His heartbeat was thundering loud enough for you to feel, his hands so gentle where they rested upon your exhausted body. "Let me know if you get too warm, okay?"

"I will. But this is perfect." You nuzzled your forehead against his shoulder, making him stifle a soft chuckle. "I could fall asleep again."

"Not yet! You've got to at least eat something first, okay? After you eat, then you can sleep."

"Always looking after me.~" You cooed. "I will, okay? In just a few minutes."

Your answer seemed to placate him for now as he pressed another kiss to your neck, light and chaste. He nosed along your jawbone, breath light and ticklish as he murmured. "Can I stay here tonight? I know I have my own room, and you need to rest, and I don't want to be a bother, but-"

"Yes." You replied, before he could talk himself out of it. "Yes, please stay with me. I want you to."

There was a palpable relief in the sigh he let out at your response. "Good. Cause I probably just would have camped out in the hallway if you said no. Might get in trouble with the owners for that."

"Well we can't have that happen, now can we?"

"No we cannot.~"

You chuckled, body feeling light for the first time that day as you let Vash cradle you in his steady arms.

#vash x reader #vash the stampede #trigun imagines #trigun #trigun stampede #my writing #long post

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downbad4yoongi · 7 months

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Weighted Desires

Written as a part of @bangtanwritershq September Big Boys Flash Fiction event.

💪🏽pairing: Namjoon x Jungkook

💪🏽au/genre: non-idol au, S2L, gym smut

💪🏽rating: M

💪🏽wc: 1,427

⚠️ explicit sexual content

Summary: Not even Kim Namjoon can resist the bare expanse of Jungkook's bare back.

The thrumming rhythm of the bass resonates through Namjoon, keeping the beat as his feet slap the rotating belt underneath him. The sheen of sweat coating his golden skin glistens in the harsh fluorescent lighting of his local gym. He’s been running for thirty minutes now; he can feel the burn in the muscles of his thighs and the adrenaline coursing through his system with every pump of his arms – he’s hit his runner’s high.

That peak of euphoria, usually the highlight of his cardio routine, is overshadowed by a broad expanse of tan skin on display in the wall-to-wall mirrors in front of him. Namjoon has been a member of this gym for years and is very familiar with the other gym-goers. In fact, he would consider many of them friendly acquaintances.

With his bulging, tattooed arms and rippling abs, this bare-chested man is a stranger. There is something about not knowing who the new muscle bunny is that has rooted an incessant inquiry in his brain. Using the mirror, Namjoon’s eyes track the other man’s movements through the gym, following his rigorous workout routine. Who is he?

Namjoon switches his grueling pace into cool-down mode, swiping at the sweat dripping from his brow. His eyes stay glued on the man as he easily completes repetitions of pull-ups. He can’t help but bite his lip as he watches the man’s muscles clench and retract with the steady dipping motion.

As Namjoon steps off the treadmill, the mystery man hops down from the pull-up bar and moves to the bench press. Seeing his in, Namjoon hurries over.

“Oh, hey. Do you need a spotter?”

Large brown eyes under a fringe of bangs connect with his own. Namjoon can feel the weight of that chocolate gaze meander down his body to take in the soaked white tank top clinging to his own defined chest before taking in the tight, black running shorts clinging to his thick thighs. The wandering eyes snap back to his, and Namjoon hopes he’s not imagining the glint of interest in the other man’s gaze.

With a sharp clearing of his throat, the stranger’s warm voice wraps around Namjoon. “Um, are you sure?” Maybe a little too eagerly, Namjoon’s head bobs in affirmation. “Okay, thanks, man.”

“It’s no problem. I was finished with my workout anyway.” Maneuvering around to stand behind the barbell, Namjoon offers his name in hopes of learning who the stranger is.

Racking one side of the barbell, the other man smiles, “I’m Jungkook. I moved here recently.”

“Welcome to the area! I’ve lived around here for a few years now.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up, “Maybe you could show me around sometime. Help me get familiar with the area.”

“Yeah, I’d love to show you some things.”

The corner of Jungkook’s lips quirk upward as he settles on the weight bench and lays back. This new angle shows off the perfect swell of Namjoon’s chest under the tight, damp fabric. Several beats pass before Namjoon clears his throat, getting the other man’s attention.

Jungkook takes his time, raising his eyes to Namjoon’s face, “Well, we can start tonight if you’re free.”

“For you, I can be.” Namjoon lets his own gaze blatantly run down Jungkook’s frame.

Watching Jungkook bench press a sizeable amount of weight did nothing to cool Namjoon’s desire to know the man. By the end of Jungkook’s set, they’re the only ones left at the private, members-only gym, and now his adrenaline is pumping for an entirely different reason. He can’t stop thinking about seeing the other man laid out before him in a completely different way.

The sharp clank of metal jolts him out of his daydream of being the cause of Jungkook’s sweat and brings him back to the present. Namjoon can’t help but ogle the play of muscles rippling as Jungkook shifts into a seated position, straddling the bench. He doesn’t bother pretending to be looking elsewhere when Jungkook looks back at him.

“So where to?” Jungkook questions as he stands and turns toward the taller man.

Namjoon can feel the weight of those innocuous words pull on the tension between them. He lets a few responses roll around his brain before settling on, “Showers?”

A grunt of air expels from Namjoon as his back collides with the sides of the lockers, lips locked with Jungkook’s. Jungkook sucks the larger man’s lower lip into his mouth, teeth worrying at the plump flesh. Namjoon moans deep, the sound resonating through his chest.

Namjoon pushes off the lockers as they kiss desperately, stumbling further into the locker room. They collide with a wooden bench, the wood pressing into the back of Jungkook’s thighs as their tongues duel for dominance. Namjoon uses the distraction to press Jungkook back until he falls back onto the bench.

Jungkook moves one arm above his head to stabilize himself on the narrow bench. Jungkook is not ignorant of how his muscles bulge and become defined under the weighted gaze of the other man.

The wanton display spurs Namjoon into action, and he rips his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Jungkook bites his lip, unable to handle the strong pull deep in his gut as he hardens even further.

Namjoon grips the smaller man’s hips as he lowers on top of him, mouthing at the vast expanse of exposed collarbone. Sliding his hands upward, his thumbs tease at Jungkook’s nipples. His hands tighten, digging into the other’s ribs as Jungkook jolts from the stimulation.

Jungkook’s hips shift upward, grinding their hips together. Echoing moans ricochet around them as they get lost in the sensation of their covered turgid cocks rubbing against each other.

Namjoon breaks first, his long fingers yanking down the shorts and briefs of the muscular man underneath him. He can’t stifle the groan of want that escapes him as Jungkook’s thick length is exposed, pulsing and flushed to the air. Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to have his own gym shorts follow and join the pile of laundry next to them.

Namjoon takes both of their cocks in his large fist as his other hand moves to cup the back of Jungkook’s head. The caring touch allows Jungkook to lounge back and get lost in the pleasure washing over him as their cocks are stroked in tandem. His own hands soon scramble to hold on as Namjoon moves from fisting their lengths to prodding at his hole.

It’s with jumbled directions from Jungkook that Namjoon is able to scour Jungkook’s gym bag to find a stored pack of lube. Quickly slathering two fingers, he warms them before easing into Jungkook with the first. Mouthing at his neck, Namjoon takes his time working Jungkook open.

Within minutes, Jungkook is a writhing mess beneath him as Namjoon’s fingers work him open–his cock making a mess of his abs as he tries to hold on for dear life, his brain flooded with endorphins with each thick push of the larger man’s fingers inside of him.

Jungkook’s needy whimper, as Namjoon’s fingers vacate him, is quickly cut off when they are replaced with the thick push of Namjoon’s cock into his wet hole. Leaning over him, his hands bracing on the bench on either side of Jungkook’s head, Namjoon pushes inside and starts a relentless rhythm.

The uncomfortableness of the hardwood bench fades into the background as Namjoon’s thick cock works Jungkook open around him. Their bodies moving together is loud and echoes around the empty locker room. Jungkook can feel himself approaching his end as Namjoon continues to plow his tight hole.

Tears leak from Jungkook’s eyes as Namjoon finds his prostate and concentrates his movements on it. Jungkook struggles to stay on the narrow bench as he messily falls apart underneath Namjoon, his cock jerking and spilling across his own chiseled abs.

With a grimace, Namjoon grips Jungkook tighter as he snaps his hips faster and chases his own high. Nails and joints dig into him, sending Namjoon over that final edge, and he releases his pent-up pleasure into the tight, pulsing hold of Jungkook.

Namjoon collapses, his body relaxing as his climax leaves him. Their heaving chests press together as they both regain their senses. The ringing silence radiates around them as they come down from their distinctive highs. Being mindful of their precarious position, Namjoon starts to move before he wants to and withdraws from Jungkook’s wet heat.

Neither is making eye contact right away. To break the post-coital awkwardness, Namjoon offers, “So these are the showers.”

#bts #bts ff #bts smut #bangtanwhq #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #fanfic #jeon jungkook #namkook #gym smut

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hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend · 10 months

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👎😫⚰️ for stasia!

Thank you my friend! I apologize for rambling on the last one but like family……brain has been rotating them around for a while. Anyway! Spoiler warnings for Shadowbringers onwards (post endwalker raids quite a lot in the last question) essentially so it’s under a cut

👎 = Is there anyone in your muse’s family they dislike, why?

All of her parents, though she forgets she even has a mother so how much that counts depends on you. She dislikes/hates them for different reasons. She hates her father because he wanted to use her, a child at the time, in his big plans as a pawn and when she couldn’t do what he wanted after non-stop training and working on the spell until she finally collapsed he left her calling her a disappointment and never came back. When she was working along side him as an adult she hated and loathed how he dismissed her and belittled her ideas and plans. With Emet-Selch this was a man that she actually let herself believe cared for her in some capacity and he turns around and basically lumps her in with the other sundered people (or so she perceives) meaning that she never did have a proper place among them and even had their plan come to fruition would never have been accepted by her own people. Part of her held out some kind of hope within that man and he crushed it without blinking an eye. So she retaliated by bringing on his death by letting free his grandpa nemesis. Her mother just stopped caring for her after her powers manifested and more of the truth on just who her father was came out, this was worsened by the fear her daughter created since she was still prone to unknowingly opening portals to the Void and letting free a monster or two. Her mother didn’t even look up from her coffee or say anything when Stasia left when she turned 14.

😫 = How does your muse handle a family member being stressed out? What about sick?

This woman is so detached from her family that if they get sick she’s just leaving the medicine and a single glass of water if she’s feeling generous. If she’s feeling extra generous she’ll send someone to go check on them. Frankly you being sick sounds like a you problem.

In terms of stressed out, this mostly was Emet’s domain and the simple solution was to just do what needed to be done that he had on a list essentially. Like less he had to worry about doing since he could be so uptight and meticulous about it all the less stressed he was which meant she had to listen to less of his dramatics.

⚰️ = How would the loss of a family member affect them? Does it vary based on type of family member?

See Stasia doesn’t like to have her emotions effect her in any way shape or form. This is proven by the fact that her biological father Lahabrea was killed and her first thought was “Good riddance.” It can also be seen in the fact that her father figure (that she will never admit to) Emet-Selch was killed and she had a hand in making that happen. She really just kind of just pushes it all down and turns to very black and white thinking to cope, ie. Lahabrea was a shit dad that abandoned her because at ten she couldn’t do magic that required a lot of power and training, and Emet-Selch betrayed her by saying he doesn’t consider sundered souls as truly alive which pointed out that she was seen as another pawn and she would not stand to be a pawn, she was at minimum the knight or bishop. This thinking drives harder even when meeting their past selves and how an unknown anger flares up in that she could have had better. These men had so much and could have passed on so much more knowledge, taught her more, found more of their strengths to absorb, but they didn’t and therefore their deaths were warranted and not worth much more thought.

However! There are two exceptions to this notion. The first in that found family (mostly Carly and Sib is becoming that cousin she never asked for) will effect her more internally. Losing Carly would devastate her and she would absolutely want to murder whoever it was that killed her and would then grow cold and even more heartless than before. There’s all her hope for humanity gone right there! Sib is just still on the more useful side so losing her would be a crushing blow to future plans A-T.

The second exception is her (half) brother, Erichthonios. Now it’s a little complicated but she met him in the past and there was an instant empathy and connection to him as they both got the same feelings from their father in that he was distant, cold, duty above all else, emotionless, etc. and she doesn’t want to care for him at all for a long long while because well he’s long dead in her time so why bother. As time goes on she grows to have a fondness for him in that she does what she can to keep him alive and safe beyond the necessary as she could almost as easily take his place for the role he has and feels the need to want to tell him their relation, which is unheard of for her. When it comes time to confront his mother she doesn’t want a memory version of him to sacrifice himself, though never stated (he can tell though), and when she now knows the identity of his sundered version she keeps an eye on him but still very distant and steals keeps the memory stone with his memories in it. She hadn’t planned on doing either but the last message he had pulled on her thin heart strings because he acknowledged her as his sister (guy figured it out and got confirmation when he asked Hyth about his familiar and got a haunted look in his eye that the man couldn’t place because gotta love memory wipes am I right?) and wished her the best, that he hoped they’d meet again in the future, and he never once denounced her and her attitude/actions even long after their initial meeting as the sundered version claimed that what was said was true. Like he basically says that yeah people will want her to be nicer and sure she could stand to be but nice wasn’t always going to get what needed to get done, she’s willing to do what’s needed even if it makes her look like a terrible person and that’s what’s needed from time to time so that in and of itself doesn’t make her a terrible or monstrous person like others would claim.

At the current moment she’s still a bit conflicted on how far to let this person into her life because there’s a lot to account for and letting people in means letting more emotions in and that just doesn’t vibe with her. All this to say that she would care about his death and doesn’t really look forward to when his time does come to an end as she’ll still be living and even possibly without Carly by then and well we saw what happened to her father figure after millennia of feeling like he was all alone and she doesn’t want that for herself. If and when he dies she will at least see him buried and leave a parting gift on his grave before never returning.

Well that was a lot. If you made it this far I reward you with family bbq time because I’m still not over this:

#oof that was a lot but I hope you enjoy it!#I love her and the family thoughts have been going strong recently #endwalker spoilers #6.4 spoilers #stasia oc #stasia chara ask #stasia headcanons

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cowboymantis · 1 year

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It's really interesting how Kingdom and E'Last have like... The same loved spot in my heart as favourite groups. Like, sure I have multiple favourite groups but around those my brain is always revolving around the most when it comes to the concepts and theories and the designs and everything.

They're just really special to me and have concepts like, imo, no other group. Obviously, a lot of groups have darker/mysterious concepts but especially Kingdom just really GOT ME with the lore. The theories. The characters. The settings. The outfits.

And then E'Last, especially Tears of Chaos, Dark Dream and Creature had such a great mysterious vibe and the outfits are just top tier.

Also, both bands I discovered randomly on YouTube, which the further I got into kpop, got less and less frequent because I end up hearing about a group a couple of times before checking them out. For Kingdom, when Excalibur came out and for E'Last, Tears of Chaos. It just peaked my interest immediately, the title, the thumbnail and when watching them I was immediately sold and got sucked into the fandom. :'D

And whenever one of the bands has a comeback I come back to obsessing over everything around it as in talking a lot about them to friends, looking for new content, listening to the music all day, making theories (more just for Kingdom but hsjshd)... It's like when a show you love airs a new episode in a way. But also, when one band has a comeback I will eventually also go back to focusing on the respective other one all over again and then it will jump around in my head between them.

Doesn't help that currently I am absolutely obsessed with Tokusatsu which won't stop anytime soon, and still are so much into Yakuza so all of those 4 things are rotating in my brain 24/7 help .

At the same time I'm also sad both Kingdom and E'Last don't get NEARLY the fame and hype they deserve. But it seems that they're happy (which I hope is also that way) and that's what matters.

OH, two other groups I'd place very high around a similar area are definitely A.C.E, P1Harmony and Golden Child. They're all also so dear to me with both their content outside of music videos and the music itself while being way too underrated for how insanely good they are!

I'm almost scared to say this but this isn't Twitter where stans see everything as it being personal- but P1Harmony have been so far pretty much the only band where I love every song in albums. I'm sure this isn't an unpopular opinion because obviously you can't love every song but still. But I just can't stand songs that are cheesy and/or fan-servicey (which I think. Is probably bc I'm aroace and it just makes me uncomfortable and cringe- but still,) they're just the worst. BUT if the song is catchy enough I will still love it, just ignoring the lyrics is something I need to get better at :'D Kingdom's Warning is a good example of a song having lyrics that make me physically cringe but I jam out to this song because it's such a bop. So yeah.

I mean, Monsta X is one of my all time favs and they're so full of cheesy songs and fanservice, so I think somewhere along the road my resistance went up. :'D

Even after some years, kpop fans are still wild to me. Like, the amount of delusions and elitism going on seem to be more than for any other fandom, but that's not really a fun topic to talk about. But man, watching live performances can be painful with how loud everyone's screaming their lungs out which alone is enough for me to never go on a kpop concert, even though I'd love to. But the only non-metal concert I ever went to was already hell when it came to the fans just screeching and making it completely unable to understand what the singer is even singing. So yeah, I uh, I'll stick to metal concerts,,,

But!! Even though I am not the biggest fan normally of watching live performances, I still really love watching them for specific groups, coming back to Kingdom and E'Last because those were kinda the main focus before I got sidetracked (and I would just add more and more I feel like fhkgfg), I love their lives and choreographies in general so so so much. They are very, dare I say it, aesthetic and just fascinating to look at. Plus, both bands are so full of visuals it's insane.

I also noticed both Kingdom and E'Last often have some kind of ropes and cloth in the performances, which is a thing I really love because it's just really pleasing to look at, especially if they dance with it in such a smooth way. (Gah, like that one amazing Stray Kids Side Effects performance)

Both also have those beautiful and mysterious settings, I especially love the misty forests.

And also, AMAZING instrumentals/intros! 🙏

I'm just gonna. Go ahead and post some examples of parallels I love and think it's so beautiful that both of these bands I have so much brainrot about share so many similarities dfjghjfdg But I am just SO NORMAL!!! ABOUT IT!!! I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Whether it's just same vibe or similar posing it's just a lot of fun.

Gonna put...

E'Last on the left and Kingdom on the right :)

It was a lot of fun just finding so many parallels now when skimming over the E'Last performances with that in mind, because for Kingdom I feel like I've got every frame engraved in my brain because I'm working on a big archive + lore essay about them so like...Yeah my mind at this point is a Kingdom archive help,, Next on the list for that will be E'Last tho soooo...

Also, for the end, a fancy group pose for E'Last and Kingdom :)

#kpop #elast #e'last #elast kpop #e'last kpop #kingdom kpop #kingdom #kingdom gfent #킹덤 #엘라스트

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oonajaeadira · 3 years

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If You Will Let My Heaven Touch Your Stars (Ezra x f!reader)

Rating: Mature.

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFY SMUT. INSPIRED BY THIS. Non-explicit oral (m and f receiving). Formatting may be strange in certain Tumblr themes due to paragraph spacing with the poetry.

A/N: Okay, y’all. I was looking for another reason to write some Ezra. I got inspired by this naughty confessional post and felt the need to rise to the challenge, but make it a bit soft. You know I’m allergic to writing physical doings without some emotional yearnings. So it has come to this. And I’m not sorry.

Summary: Ezra runs his mouth over some poetry. You run your mouth over some Ezra.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

_______________________________

You know that sigh. It will be shortly followed by a gravelly, dissatisfied “hm.”

“Hm.”

Next will come the impatient flipping of pages as Ezra learns that the book he’s chosen from the stack he got in trade on the Pug is…”less than literary and more than malignant.”

“What’cha reading, Ez.” The main node on the electropulse generator blew during the last harvest and you’ve been doing your best to repair it for the better part of the scaling period. Better to keep eyes on the electrics than let them wander over to his bedroll where he’s stripped to his skivvies, propped up against a crate, reading.

The rotation of Ranakh-4 is almost sixty hours, and in the north hemisphere there’s always light. Should be perfect for prospectors to take shifts and get things done, but instead, it creates a scaling period--a good fifteen-hour window of intense heat and sunlight that’s too dangerous to be exposed to for long, causing lots of nasty side effects. Including skin scaling. Hence the name. So during that period you and Ezra hide in the cooled tent, sleeping, polishing gems, maintaining equipment, wasting time, and generally trying not to annoy each other too much.

That’s a joke between you. In the years you’ve known him, Ez has yet to get under your skin. Ezra’s usually up for a game of dice or five-stand during scaling period, and if you’ve got gear to clean or inventory to count, he’s good for a story. Or ten.

But after the third rotation he stopped playing games of chance with you and his stories got gradually less... crusty. He still had a lot to say, but he stuck mostly to mining anecdotes, weaving around salacious details and editing himself in the moment.

And you’re pretty sure you know why.

This isn’t the first posting you’ve had with Ezra.

There was the assignment on Phintreas. The job on TG-19. The second assignment on Phintreas--that one it was just the two of you. Just like this one.

There was a moment near the end of that run when you took a break from digging to stretch, arching your back in the dappled sunlight and pulling your arms up and back toward the thick foliage tops. There were singing insectoid creatures on Phintreas and you’d dropped your wrists to your head to listen to their song a little, closing your eyes and hearing in their hum the chords of a song you used to love.

It was just a few seconds, the warm air on your bare shoulders, the long thin trees--actually large grass--rising and swaying above. A pleasant stretch in your lower back. But there was something off. Your ears were full of insect song but there was something missing.

The sound of Ezra’s digging had stopped.

You turned to find him taking a break, leaning on his shovel, jumpsuit open and pulled down to a knot at his waist like yours. Dirt-streaked arms and undershirt, looking at you, staring with sad eyes, the long slopes of his mustache running into his patchy beard making him look like he was pouting more than he was. Probably. Totally lost in thought, his eyes slid down your torso. When he woke to the fact that you caught him using you as a backdrop for reverie, he didn’t even have the balls to be embarrassed. Just realigned his focus on his shovel and went back to digging, the veins straining out on his big hands.

“You okay, Ez?”

“As well as one can be, sweetheart. I feel we’re close. It is a fine day full of wonderments.”

You’d thought about that look in the days afterward. Didn’t really know what it meant for you. Until the final sleep cycle on that grass planet, the wind traveling through the fields making the grasses sing hollow and low in the night.

“What’cha reading, Ez?” You’d come to learn that it was a magic question, one that not only got you an explanation, but perhaps a chapter or two in his baritone twang.

And that night, as you packed your final bag, he swung the spine around to read out, “Papas Cordel, Love Verses.”

He didn’t ask you if you wanted to hear any. He just started to read.

Softly. Slowly. The words were innocuous on their own but their combination was sinful, his voice melting at the back of your brain, lifting the fine hairs of your neck, slithering down your spine before making an orbit to press upon your core and vibrate there.

He never said goodnight. Just read you a few poems full of worship and yearning in that sonorous voice of his, then rolled over and went to sleep. It left you in a panic, trying to control your breathing, in full understanding of what that look from a few days ago had really meant.

And for the duration of your next couple of jobs you spent some time in regret, wishing you’d decoded your feelings sooner or that he’d made his own clearer. You’d vowed that if you ever had the chance to go back and live that night again you wouldn’t hesitate to….what? To do what? You never got that far. Didn’t matter. Time doesn’t go backwards. After a while, it was easy enough to convince yourself that you’d just read too much into it, that you didn’t really feel anything and neither did Ez. He had just been tired and staring into space that day. And he’d just been aesthetically moved by the song of the grasses in the night wind. It was a trick of the light, and the more you rationalized it, the further the memory slipped into the realm of silly fantasy.

So when this assignment came, you’d had time enough to leave the fantasy behind and met Ezra as you always had--as a friend and a damn talented prospector you were happy to dig with. The man always got his haul and getting paired with him always meant profit.

It only took one scaling period to make you realize you were lying to yourself.

Scaling period means getting somewhere shaded and cooled and making yourself as comfortable as possible. Which means stripping down to essentials. All those dice games trying not to look at Ezra’s broad, bared chest, looking up from a hand of cards to find his eyes quickly darting away from you…. By the third rotation you’d noticed that neither of you could make eye contact with the other anymore and after that, Ezra generally spent his downtime during scaling periods laying on his bedroll in his skivvs, reading one of the dozen books he’d scavenged back on the station.

You weren’t sure if you were flattered or embarrassed or even injured that he wouldn’t move on whatever he was tense about. But, ultimately, this arrangement was easier.

Or so you lied to yourself.

A “what’cha reading, Ez” got you a few chapters of an old time-travel adventure or a philosophical treatise on the life of some forgotten pioneer while you mended a garment or recounted the supply of viable drill bits or tried to fix the damn faulty electropulse generator for the millionth time. Something rollicking and full of resonance to keep your ears busy and your mind distracted while you focused your eyes on anything but Ezra’s bronze skin and sable eyes and full lips and big hands and thick thighs and--

This time he clicks his tongue and runs a hand through his hair, humming a high note in a kind of frustrated laugh. “I won’t devastate your ears on this one, sweetheart. Not much of interest here but some poor soul ruttin’ and scraping for talent that eludes them. How this found its way into a thing to be bought and sold I will never understand.”

And yet, he keeps reading. Silently.

After a few minutes and another wire successfully cleaned and reconnected, you repeat yourself, taunting him.

“What’cha reading, Ez.”

“Mm.” He just flips through a few more pages, refusing to answer.

“Hey.” You chuckle into your work. “What’cha reading.”

You hear a huge intake of breath before a hold and a forced release.

“Wow,” you laugh. “Fine. Don’t waste breath on it. Just tell me which one it is so I can avoid it later.”

“Love and other Stars by Aeon Aido Raja.”

“I see. What’s it about?”

“Sadly, it is about a poet who cannot seem to make the match between words and sentiment; a volume of supposed amorous verse.”

“Amorous verse,” your hands stop working on their own. “Love...poetry?” There’s a sudden flashback to the sound of hollow reeds and soothing verses in the night. The words are a program in your brain, overwriting your inhibition and professionalism, pushing you to a deeply-coded goal to calm the flutter in your chest.

“So it claims. Although I fear it lacks full understanding of both--” His voice cuts out as he realizes you’ve stood and you’re moving toward him and his wide eyes lock to yours as you sit beside him on the bedroll. “Now what has gotten into you, sweetheart?”

You know exactly what’s gotten into you. The triggered wish of returning to that night, the built-up tension of dancing around each other in your underwear, trying to deny what’s going on, watching him purposefully respect you when you know he feels something, when he knows you do too--

What was it you were going to do if you had a chance to go back to that last night on the grass planet? Time to find out.

“Read to me.”

Ezra hesitates, unsure. “This?”

“Read it.”

His eyes flick down to follow the quick fold of your lips as you wet them with your tongue, unconsciously mimicking you, before fumbling his gaze back to the book and, with a regretful sigh, begins.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

When he looks for your reaction, you’re not sure if he’s pleading with you for permission to stop or continue.

Shit. He’s right. It isn’t great. But you’re here now, you’re going to make the most of it.

“That’s not...so bad.” And then you find out what you would have done that night--or at least how you’d start--by showing him your raised palm, lowering it slowly toward him. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Your hand travels down through the air, just to the inch above his skivvs, waiting a moment in the aura of radiated heat there, before settling lightly over him. He never says no, never takes his eyes from yours, the only reaction coming from a small lift in his chest, the corner of his mouth curling just a fraction, and the fabric beneath your hand quickly becoming the only thing there to qualify as soft.

“Sweetheart, what you’re beginning here--”

“The only words I want from you are that poem. I want to hear you read. You stop, I stop.”

The heat hangs heavy between you, burns beneath your hand. And with a huffed exhale, Ezra starts again.

“I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--

“Walking through the light of a moon in decline-- Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

Supporting him from underneath, you’ve begun running your thumb up and down him, and his breath hitches, bringing him to a stop. So you stop.

“You stop, I stop, Ez.”

“Believe me, gentle one, I do not wish the impediment of your affections--”

“Then don’t stop.”

In a beautiful panic, Ezra looks back to the poem. “You sure you want this one?”

You nod. “I don’t care how good it is. That’s the poem I want. Keep going. I've always liked your voice. I know you can make it pretty.”

He stares at the page a moment, and you push him--literally--gasping into a start.

“If ever I could tell you When my heaven touched your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

You stop palming him when he stops to breathe, and it’s only when you trace his waistband with your fingertips that he swallows and continues, willing you to keep going--

“Waking in the night to the aching void of your embrace-- Can you forgive me if I plead your name? If I summon you to my body from wherever you are?”

Whether it’s the want in his voice or just getting further into the words, the poem is already getting better. His eyebrows begin to push together and arch, as you stretch the top of his underwear down, wrapping your hand around him. His words start riding the occasional groan which just resonate with you more and you rock yourself against the bedroll in time with your gentle, yearning pulls--

“You hold me adroitly With accurate proximity To keep your breath and my breath Two founts and one pool. To swim a in star-reflective stream of our holy recreation--”

He’s doing so well, the words wandering out deep and breathy, so beautifully controlled...until you lower your mouth to him.

Then there’s a strangled staccato grunt as he adjusts, takes a couple of quick breaths and continues--

“But your body is a.....wildfire Your lips a destruction And I give my everything over to your….cleansing devastation.”

Oh, his struggle is glorious. You can feel him trying not to buck, needing to blow out a breath between pursed lips here and there to concentrate on the print. He reads with intent, leaning into context and feeling, making a gift to you of every word.

“I have yearned for you to find me worthy of a spark An ignition... The rebirth of your combustible attentions.”

He pauses again to breathe, and while you allow him a small reprieve, he’s stopped a little too long and you abruptly halt. When you pull back to look up in reprimand, he gives you a soft smile through his panting, shaking his head in wonder. You know he’ll have plenty of praises when this is over, but he doesn’t seem to want to break the spell to say them now. When you return his little smile, he looks back to the page and continues, prompting you to return to your own administrations.

“How you draw from me each sweet effusion-- Every secret vein untapped-- Now yours in expert execution, Now open to your burning maw.”

He pushes through the poetry rather than into you, allowing you to hear him and match him. Your body begins to counter-react as you feel him brimming, turning on more need in you than you’ve felt in a while, and you show him just how well he’s doing by doing well by him.

There’s a shift in his voice as more breath enters in and nonverbal noises begin to punctuate the words; a shift in his body as his fingers tangle in your hair and grip tightly, suggesting a final rhythm--

“But within the fire An aperture of...divine precipitation Where those of us who live untouched Can go to drown To die To howl…..! To see the blessed face of eternity Or the….busting open….of a thousand….wretched….stars-- You-call-me-to-sinful-prayer You-invoke-my-abject-soul I find myself in debt…!...and thrall…!... to your superior…!...divinity--”

When he stops reading this round, you show mercy as he pounds his fist into the bedroll and makes his own additions to the poem, exclamations made up of your name and curses and calls to higher powers. You can only expect a man to expel from himself wondrously one method at a time, and Ezra’s earned his reward so beautifully.

Damn his opinion. The poem was perfect. You chose correctly. Either that, or Ez’s tongue really can spin any old refuse into gold.

But the book is still held high, and as you lift from him and guide him through his aftershocks with your hand, he breathes heavy though the final verse--

“This is how I love you from afar With agony and forlorn words While you hover forever in my purview A shaft of dazzling incandescence Shining down from your sun/star Through the glass of my desire Starts and restarts an everlasting blaze”

Then, setting the book reverently on the bedroll, he takes your face in his hands, dragging his thumbs across your lips, no longer needing the page for the last lines.

“If ever I could tell you And if you will let my heaven touch your stars If ever I could tell you Beloved--”

Ezra’s kiss is achingly grateful. He tries to put into one kiss the loving equivalent of everything you’ve just done for him.

When he pulls back, he gives you the tiniest rough shake, a punctuation of his playful consternation. “Mmm,” he grunts. “While I am glad to know you find my recitals pleasing, you’re about to find out that my talent for oral ministrations do not stop at mere recitation.” With a miner’s strong arms he flips you over him onto the bedroll, making short work of your underwear and pinning your legs around his shoulders in a matter of seconds. “Now, I will not be so cruel as to make you put words to my reciprocation, unless you’d like to fill the silence to direct me to your will. Or say what you please. I will not be able to add to the conversation as I will be otherwise occupied.”

You don’t know if it’s years of running his mouth or wagging his tongue or yapping his jaw, but he’s well practiced in using allllll the muscles therein to help finish what poetry couldn’t quite accomplish.

At one point you think of surprising him and trying your own hand at reading while being entertained. But when you fumble for the book, it opens to the same poem.

But not the same poem.

The opening lines are there: “I have never told you When your lips found my own I have never told you My dearest--Walking through the light of a moon in decline--Can you blame me if I steal your kiss? If I call you to my side before it collides with the ground?”

And that’s it.

That’s where it ends. The whole published poem--a mere seven lines.

Oh, Kevva. That’s...that means….

Damn, Ezra. The mouth on you.

The book drops to the bedroll.

And you break into pieces as his heaven masterfully consumes your stars.

________________

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

Taglist: @melobee @extraterrestrialdork @14mcmd1122 @grogusmum @cannedsoupsucks

#soft ezra #soft!ezra #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #fluffy smut #pedro pascal #ezra prospect smut

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

“We’re a well-oiled team of military-grade kindergarteners,” his best friend, and the only other human on the ship who would understand what kindergarten was, continued chastising him and his companions. “The level of education and training among the three of you eclipses that of the entire rest of the members of this operation,” Annabeth continued, pointing her finger individually at himself, his pilot Jason, and his Chief Science Officer Nico. “You know, I’m not that surprised with you, Percy, but you are our XO so you should really be more responsible,” he winced at that, still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome at being the Commander of the USS Olympus. “Jason, shouldn’t you be piloting a ship or something?” At that, he saluted her and did an about face before scampering off to get into more trouble. “And you, you’re definitely way too responsible to have gotten mixed up with this Seaweed Brain and Sparky, so what’s in this tomfoolery for you?”

Nico, the only Neptunian on the ship, shifted his large black wings self consciously under the scrutiny of their Chief of Operations. Percy, as the Commander of the vessel, felt obligated to protect his usually stoic and well-behaved… acquaintance? Di Angelo was reserved, almost standoffish, and resented anyone who tried to stick up for him for some reason, but that didn’t stop Percy’s stupid seaweed brain from doing so. Hence the acquaintance. Percy was 99% sure Di Angelo didn’t consider him a friend. But he was nice to Percy and a great officer, so Percy considered him his friend.

“It was my fault, Annie,” he used her childhood nickname carefully, not knowing whether it would soften her up or piss her off more. He was hoping for softening. “It was just another one of Jason and my dumb ideas that we thought we would need a scientist to help with, and we didn’t want to piss off Leo by involving him in it. You know how he is about his engineer and warp cores and whatnot,” Percy held his hands up placatingly. “Leave Di Angelo out of this, he has sciencey things to do, isn’t that right?” Percy side-eyed his companion who (not surprisingly) rolled his eyes.

“I try not to get involved with human pranks or even Jovian mischief, but Officer Grace and First Officer Jackson were about to be meddling with my linguistics team. It isn’t my duty to tell my superiors what to do, so I sought out the next best option, supervising and ensuring no lasting damage was done to the physical or emotional state of the linguistics team. Now,” Here Percy held in a smirk as Di Angelo shrugged. “If they caused interference with the machinery of the ship, that wouldn’t be my expertise, so I allowed it to happen and-” Percy held back a laugh as the other male started speaking even faster to get everything out as Annabeth turned redder and redder. “I’m very sorry about that, truly, but I had no control over the situation.”

“No control over the situation? You three broke our LIT machine and now we have to go back to Earth as soon as we pass close enough to fix it. Soon enough nobody on this ship will understand each other,” the woman across from them crossed her arms and Percy shrunk back a bit.

“I want to make a joke about a machine being called “LIT,” but I feel like it isn’t the right time,” he muttered. “I know the Linguistic Inhibition Technology is important, but most of us have a working understanding of at least one other language, so it shouldn’t be a huge issue, right?”

“You know it works by connecting to the implant technology in our brains, so as it shuts down one by one, members of this ship from spaces stations and planets far and wide will have no clue why they suddenly can’t understand their XO, or their Chief Officer, or their best friend. So you better explain this. And you have to tell them that we’re going straight back to Earth to fix it because no nearby planets have the same brain implant tech as us. Damn Terrans and their brand name technology copyrights,” Annabeth grumbled and finally turned around to walk off.

“Hey, you’re Terran, too!” Percy shouted after her, but she just flipped him the bird.

“She can do that?” Di Angelo asked, side-eyeing Percy.

“Yeah, she’s been my best friend since we were twelve. As long as she doesn’t undermine my authority in front of everyone else, I don’t really care. I’ve done way worse to her,” Percy laughed at the other man’s frown. “Nothing bad, just pranks and things of that sort. Maybe when we get back to Earth we can show you where we’re from. You never set foot off of the training grounds while you were in school.”

“I would… like that,” Di Angelo paused and gave Percy a soft smile.

“Great,” Percy patted the younger male on the shoulder and made his way to the Command Center.

Percy sat himself down in the rotating chair and pressed on the comms device.

“Gooooood evening crew of the USS Olympus, this is your Commanding Officer, Percy Jackson, speaking,” he smiled at the engineering crew that was scuttling by, only for one of them to pause and look at him like he was speaking a different language… Whoops.

“There was a malfunction with the Linguistic Inhibition Technology and we will be returning to Earth henceforth to repair it before the damage becomes problematic. You may experience glitches with your implant technology and may revert to only understanding your first language and those you have studied extensively. If somebody looks like they’re not understanding what I’m saying right now, please escort them to the linguistics team in Science Bay 3. Carry on. Jackson, out.” He clicked again and the mic turned off.

He sighed, this would be one of his bigger mistakes. They were supposed to be exploring, but they couldn’t do that if nobody could speak to one another. One trip home couldn’t hurt him, and he was sure Annabeth would be happy to see her father.

It wasn’t until later after the Chief Officer meeting when someone finally asked Percy about Earth. For many of the non-humans on the ship, Earth was a place to get education and training to go out in the star fleet, and they never set foot outside the campus grounds, just like Di Angelo. But people had stopped asking him questions because Earth was basically “Space Australia,” as Annabeth had explained to him. The adaptability of humans and their need to pack bond astounded many and horrified many others. So, he stopped talking about home.

It was a new member of their ship, Novax (a Vulcan who was a part of Leo’s engineering team), who asked him about it first.

“I hear Earth is 75% made of pure salt water, and is filled with animals of all kinds. Do you have a favorite water animal?” he asked Percy excitedly.

“Definitely dolphins, though they aren’t underwater creatures. Like humans they need oxygen to breathe, and come up for air very often. My favorite actual underwater species would have to be a hippocampus from Neptune. I’ve always wanted to go and see one, but my human anatomy prevents me from going on-planet,” Percy explained and sipped on his hot tea.

“There are a million creatures in the ocean and you pick one that doesn’t breathe underwater?” Clarisse grunted. His Chief Tactical Officer was a brutish Martian, but very specialized in weapons. “And your second favorite isn’t even Terran.”

“What else do you know about the ‘ocean’?” Novax breathed, leaning forward.

“Eh, not much,” Percy shrugged.

“I’m not sure I heard that correctly, maybe my LIT unit isn’t functioning well,” another member of engineering asked, Nyssa. “Your planet is 75% water and you don’t even know what is inside it?”

“I could tell you about the people who spend their life learning about what survives in the deep depths,” Percy looked up, knowing he had all of the non-Terrans hooked on every word. Even Di Angelo had paused in his note taking and was staring wide-eyed at Percy. “But I don’t know if you’d want to know.”

“No we do!” Nyssa exclaimed. “There are people who dedicate their lives to a place that’s literally not navigable by humans, the main inhabitants of the planet?”

“Well as you said, most of the planet is water. Which means that coastal communities are filled with fisherman, whalers, swimmers, and more. I could tell you about some of those. I could also tell you about the scientists that spend years of their lives building bots that can’t even come close to withstanding the pressure at the deepest depths without imploding, or I could tell you about those that do come close,” he shrugged.

“What happened to those?”

“The video feed cut out after only seeing multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth,” Annabeth answered, her sharp grin frightening those who hadn’t noticed her. Some forgot that she was Terran, because she was also half Minervan.

“I could tell you about whales. Beautiful, they come in black and white or grey or blue. But they can be as big as almost 100 feet long. That’s as long as most pirate ships. And they could fit about 400 average sized humans in their mouths. You don’t want to cross one of them. And they only live on the surface. The things that live in the deep,” Percy shuddered for effect. There were no Neptunians on the ship, so there were no natural water dwellers there, so all of his rapt listeners were shocked by this information. “There’s the anglerfish. They light up the dark with an antenna on top of their heads, and the light lures in prey. But it’s so dim elsewhere that you don’t see their big sharp teeth until you’re right up against them,” he murmured. “Giant squids are almost as big as whales but not nearly as peaceful and beautiful. They have eight arms and two tentacles that could wrap around any boat and crush it.”

“Ten limbs?” Nyssa whispered, clearly disturbed.

“Plus, the Portuguese Man o’ War,” Percy shrugged nonchalantly. “Also known as the floating terror. It’s like a big blue jellyfish that sits innocently on top of the water with huge blue tentacles that sit just underneath with a sting strong enough to kill a full grown human.”

“Don’t worry,” Annabeth grinned that shark grin again. “Percy won’t tell you about the stories of the old days. He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“That was the not scary part?” Novax gulped.

“Anyway, I just got notified that we’ll be back on Earth in a few days, so brace yourselves,” and with that, she stood and left them all staring after her. When the door clicked shut, Percy had all eyes back on him. He shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t going to tell you about the kr- nevermind,” he stood. “Di Angelo, with me,” the younger officer stood, back to business and was at Percy’s side again in a moment. “Clear your schedule, you’re spending shore leave with me, pal.”

“Great,” came the deadpan reply.

“Don’t sound so somber,” Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to show you the beach and maybe a good gay bar. You need to let off some steam my dude.”

The other male reddened.

“That is so… That is…” he huffed. “Highly inappropriate.” he glared down at the ground and Percy felt a little bad, maybe the guy wasn’t out? But it was clear he had a preference for males. Oh well, that foot was already in Percy’s mouth.

“Fine. But I will be attending and I am a great dancer so you’re missing out,” he winked at the flustered officer and made his way back to his cabin. It would be an interesting few days.

He made a plan with Annabeth. Day one before shore leave, Percy would spread a rumor to Novax about the kraken. Bigger than a giant squid and meaner. Known to crush entire pirate ships in the olden days.

Day two, Annabeth would mention sirens to Nyssa. Hideous creatures that could lure you in with their voices and lead you to believe you were bringing your ship in to everything you ever wanted, when in reality you would crash your ships and then drown.

Day three, Percy would tell Leo about the Megalodon. A definitely very real shark so big you couldn’t even imagine it. Percy shuddered at that one.

“But, there are some good things,” Percy was speaking to Nico Di Angelo from his Commander chair, in ear shot of some of the participants of the conversation a few nights prior. “Mermaids, the siren’s nicer cousin species. And the lost city of Atlantis. Known to be a great and bountiful city, lost to the sea and cursed by the gods to be stuck down there forever. Some believe it still exists, but it’s within the Bermuda Triangle.”

“What, pray tell, is the Bermuda Triangle,” Clarisse sighed.

“Hard to explain. Ships just… go in… and they never come out,” Annabeth shrugged. “Planes go down. Ships wreck. People who go in don’t come back out, so we don’t know if Atlantis is really there or not.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Novax whispered as he walked by.

Percy was sure he had created a healthy fear of Earth’s oceans in his crew. And he meant to, because while he loved the beach and swimming, he did want to make them shy away from the depths. They wouldn’t do well to explore it.

#percy jackson #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #star trek #fusion #nicercy #percico #if you squint

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

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In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #glorified self insert #self indulgence at its finest #is this even in character??#or am I just lonely and prone to incredibly intense nightmares #hopefully ~somebody~ enjoys #especially after the last serenade chapter right?

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macnevercries · 3 years

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Goodnight (Shinsou x F!reader)

Warnings- somnophilia, non-con, penetration, loss of virginity, yandere tendencies, praise, creampie

Word count- 2360

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You were so nice to him. You smelled so good. You smiled so brightly, looked so pretty, so genuine. These things about you were what started his obsession. Watching you and keeping tabs on you became a hobby, then a need.

He found his brain constantly occupied with thoughts of you, your small habits, things you said to him, things he wished you said to him. Everything about you was perfect. You were the object of his affection, his darling.

But you didn’t know any of this, you were clueless to Shinsou’s infatuation with you. To you he was just a friend, an awfully clingy friend but in an endearing way. He had been this way since year one and you two were now close to the end of year three. You two weren’t in the same class like last year, but Shinsou made every effort to see you whenever he was free. Walking you to class, sitting next to you during lunch, walking you to the dorms and asking to hang out on the weekend.

You kind of guessed that he liked you, you had thought so for years but you didn’t say anything in case you were wrong. You weren’t against the thought of dating him, he was insanely handsome, his lavender fluffy hair framing his sharp jaw perfectly. His dark circles perfectly balanced his lazy smirk. To top that off he was kind and he always treated you with respect even if he got in your space a lot. You just assumed he was touchy, thought nothing of it.

One day when he was walking you to the dorms he kept brushing his hand against yours. You didn’t bother moving, you were tired and his presence was comforting.

“You need help studying right?” He asks, looking deep into your eyes as if it was the last time. This was an interesting thing about Shinsou. He always lingered, even when he wasn’t with you, you never felt like he left.

“Yeah I do, I’m struggling a little bit in English and History. Do you wanna study with me?” His face lit up at your offer, nodding eagerly. He started in the direction of the 3C building, excited to have you in his room. How would you act around him in private? Would you like his room? He needed to record your every action and memorize it. You stopped walking and Shinsou turned around, tiring his head to the side to convey his confusion. He wanted you in his room already, why were you slowing him down?

“Hold on, I’m sorry” you mumbled. You shuffled through your school bag looking for something. Shinsou couldn’t help but peek over your shoulder, he had never seen the inside of your bag before. His eyes darted between the contents of your bag and your newly exposed skin, your skirt drifted up your leg where you knelt on the sidewalk. You looked back up at him, an embarrassed smile gracing your face.

“I left my books at the dorms, can we study in my room instead?” You asked meekly. Shinsou’s face flushed all shades of red. He had already been in love with the thought you in his room, but him in yours? Enchanting. He smiled and nodded.

With his approval the two of you headed towards your dorm. You walked through the common room, nodding at your classmates and getting in the elevator. Your room was on the third floor, twelve meters down the hallway on the right. Shinsou engraved this path into his brain, he would have to come back. You unlocked your door, walking in and closing in behind the purple-haired boy.

He glanced around the room, taking in as much as he could before his gaze was drawn back to you, opening the balcony doors to let in the soft spring breeze. The wind fluttered your skirt and blew your hair. You looked like a goddess. Shinsou wished he could take a picture of you, he wanted to remember this moment forever.

You sat down at your desk, pulling a chair up for Shinsou to sit in. You got out your books, flipping it open and getting to work. After a few minutes you laughed and looked over to Shinsou,

“Are you ever going to come sit?” You giggled. Shinsou smiled apologetically, pulling his chair out and making sure to scoot close to you. The hours flew by, you studying and Shinsou watching.

He had his book open and he answered all of your questions, teaching you what you didn’t understand. He just couldn’t focus on his own studies, not like this. Not when you were sitting next to him, looking like that.

The clock hit 6:30 and the dinner bell rang. You closed your books, thanking Shinsou for his help. You walked him out of the building before heading back in for dinner. Thoughts of you ran through his head as he walked back to his own room, he would definitely be returning to your room later. Now that he had a taste, he wouldn’t let it go.

He had been watching the clock for hours. He ate dinner in his room and barely did any of his homework. Thoughts of you flooded his consciousness and it took everything he had not to go right back to your dorm. No he had to wait until everyone was asleep.

When the clock struck 2am he silently slipped out of his room. He wasn’t careful walking down the hall, his foot steps were never heard. He took the stairs instead of the elevator, heading down swiftly. When he got outside it was pitch black. There were no street lamps on at Heights Alliance at three in the morning. It didn’t matter to him though. Shinsou had memorized the path from his room to yours the moment you took his hand and dragged him there.

Despite how flustered he seemed at the moment he was taking everything in. The cracks in the concrete, how certain movements squeaked the door, where your room was in relativness to your classmates and of course, the feeling of your soft hand against his.

He slides the dorm door open noiselessly. Rapidly, he walks to the stairway, taking two at a time. The slow climb to the third floor went by in seconds. He had been waiting years for this moment.

He glides down the hall, eager and giddy. Stopping at your down he gets down on his knees and starts to work on the lock.

Two minutes later and he has it pop open. Slinking inside and closing the door softly behind him, he walks over to your bed. He takes a moment to look around the room again and breath in your scent. You’re his safe haven and he can’t imagine being happier than he is now.

He puts his large hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you awake.

“Hey kitten, can you hear me?”

“Hmm? Shinsou?” you mumble, still half asleep.

Your response was enough to for him to get ahold of you. Now that you were under the power of his quirk there was no way he would let you go. At least not anytime soon.

“I want you to stay still for me okay? I’ll do everything, I’ll make you feel so good baby I promise” His words are sincere but they make you shiver with fear. This wasn’t this Shinsou you knew.

With you frozen in place for him, he turns you over so you’re facing up and pulls down the covers. He flicks on the lamp on your bedside table, taking a moment to appreciate the way you look in the soft light.

You can’t move and you’re stuck in a post-sleep daze, barely aware of what’s going on. Your soft lips are slightly parted and cheeks pink from the warmth of your bed. You look so inviting.

Shinsou leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips, savoring the sweet taste. It was everything he imagined and more.

“My god you taste amazing, mind if I taste something else?”

He snickers at the panic in your eyes. You try to scream ‘no this isn’t how I want this to happen’ but no words leave your mouth. It doesn’t even open at your will.

He plays with the straps of your tank top, tugging and pulling them. He glides them down your arms, bring the whole shirt with it. He tosses the shirt to the side, out of view. His hands run over your chest, worshipping the skin you live in.

“You’re so gorgeous you know that? Such a pretty girl.” He breathes the words onto your skin.

His calloused fingers trace your breasts, thumbing your sensitive buds. The way they perk and pebble at his touch gets him going.

“You like that? I can do more of that” He latches his mouth onto your nipple, pinching and pulling the other one. His tongue glides across the delicate skin beneath him.

His mouth detaches with a lewd pop, switching to the other side to give you a matching mark. As he removes his face from your chest, he plants kisses across your collarbone and travels down your stomach. When his tender touches reach your lower stomach, your hips thrust forward against your will.

He chuckles darkly at your reaction.

“Patience kitten, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this. Let’s take our time, yeah?” he soothes his words into your skin. Despite his actions they calm you.

He pulls your loose shorts below your hips and down your thighs, taking a moment to trace the soft skin. He settles himself between your plush legs, facing your core.

Tracing the elastic of your panties, he licks a large stripe up your clothed cunt. A shiver runs through your entire body, hips jumping towards his face when he pulls away to watch your face.

He grins wildly “I knew you wanted me too, I knew it.”

He takes your panties off before you realize what he’s doing, burying his head in your sex. He inhaled deeply, somehow managing to creep you out more than you already are.

He eats you out like a starved man, his previously gentle touches greedy and hungry. Slurping you up, swallowing you. He latches his mouth out your clit, giving kitten licks where your body wants him most.

He slips in two slender fingers with ease. Scissoring and twisting them to open you wider. He rotates his digits, pumping them in and out, looking for your special spot. One move he makes has you clamping around him, body jolting.

A sinister smile covers his face. “Here? I can do it here” He curls them deeply into you, continuing his attack. You thrash around, your stomach tightly wound with pleasure. He sucks a little harder on your clit and that’s all it takes for you to unravel beneath him. He guides you through it, letting you down gently.

He retracts his fingers and face from your glistening cunt. He slides his fingers into your open lips, forcing them down your throat. You choke on his digits, tasting your slick on his skin.

“Yeah, you sound so pretty. I wish you could moan but if I let you go even a little bit you might manage to get out of my hold. You have always been a strong woman, it’s why I love you. But alas we can’t have you escaping from me now, we’re having so much fun and I haven’t gotten my turn yet.”

He slides his swears and boxers down his legs in one swift motion, causing his heavy cock to slap against his stomach. The tip was a deep reddish purple from waiting, pre-cum dripping from the it. It was pretty, a few prominent veins running across the bottom, average girth and impressive length.

Looking at it made your mouth water. It also made you wish you had time to develop a relationship with him on your own, made you wish it didn’t have to happen this way.

He doesn’t hesitate to run it through your folds, mixing your excitement with his. He pushes into your tight hole slowly, cherishing the way that you grip him tightly, sucking him into you.

“Oh god is this your first time? You’re so tight for me, just for me” He groans. You would nod if possible. It was your first time. The stretch was painful.

Shinsou didn’t wait long for you to adjust, after a few seconds he couldn’t take it. He wrapped your thighs around his waist and started pounding into you. The way his head kissed your cervix, the bumps and ridges hitting all the right places.

He just started and you could already feel yourself close to your second orgasm. Thankfully he was too. Going quicker, he rammed you into the mattress, moving his thumb to your clit. He rubs hard, almost too hard. You clench around him tightly, releasing with him.

He spills into you, painting your walls and fucking you through it. He groans and his voice cracks.

“Oh fuck, good girl good girl good girl good girl. Yeah you’re so fucking good for me” he rambles his words into your ear, sucking on your jaw as he slows down and pulls out. He grabs his phone and starts snapping photos, your fucked out face, his hands on your breast, the hickeys and marks trailing your body, and last but not least, his pale fingers pushing his cum back inside of you as it threatens to spill out.

Content with his job, he pulls his pants back up, and tucks you back into bed. He switches off the lamp, kissing your forehead.

“Let’s keep this a secret yeah? At least until you’re ready to accept my feelings.”

Picking your panties off of the floor and sliding them into his pocket he exits the room just as quietly as he entered. Even when his quirk deactivates, you lay there silently, the remains of his presence leaking down your thigh again. You feel so used. And yet somehow, so loved.

#shinsou x you #shinsou hitoshi #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha #mha #x reader #shinsō hitoshi #yandere #bnha shinso hitoshi #yandere hitoshi shinso

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megahwn · 4 years

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Smitten

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: arranged marriage!au, strangers to lovers

Word Count: 16,902

Rating: 18+

Warnings: alcohol mentions/consumption; menstruation mention; description of a panic attack; explicit language; biting/marking; fondling over clothes; a sort-of handjob; a single piercing; vaginal fingering; finger sucking; unprotected vaginal intercourse; almost simultaneous orgasms; creampie

Summary: You live in a world where loving another is criminal. Partners are chosen by your elders to produce the best offspring and to help the economy thrive. Living in this world, you feel broken. You feel broken because you have accidentally fallen for your new husband, Jeon Jungkook.

A/N: Part of BTS Writers’ Corner’s Amor Fabula Project. Thank u to @joopiterjoon @kitsutaes @spicykoreantatertots @staerrylights for beta-reading parts of this fic for me, I appreciate you all!

The elders are relatively mysterious to you. You don’t know how many of them there are, what they do with their time, what they look like. All you really know about them is how powerful they are. They are the entity that decides which people will marry in order to produce the healthiest offspring and to keep the economy strong. Most people accept their pairing and then live their lives married to someone they don’t know. Others, however few there may be, reject their pairing and go out looking for true love on their own.

~~~

You and Jungkook tumble through the door of your new apartment, exhausted from the day’s events but giddy from the wine. Today had gone much more smoothly than you had anticipated it would. The kiss at the altar was far from awkward, your families seemed to get along well, and your conversation with Jungkook at your sweetheart table left nothing to be desired (thank you, white zinfandel). It was almost as if your wedding was based on something more than genetics and finances. Almost.

In all honesty, you want nothing more in this moment than to get out of this obnoxious outfit, get into some sweats and keep binging This Is Us. While today went as ideally as it could have, it won't hurt to get lost in the Pearsons' love story for a few hours instead of having to face your non-love story as soon as you arrive home from your own wedding.

It won't hurt. Not one bit.

You are already out of one shoe and hobbling down the hallway to your shared bedroom when you realize that it is, in fact, a shared bedroom, and you can't just throw all your clothes everywhere on your quest to get naked and comfortable. Your eyes immediately begin darting around the almost-familiar space for a spot to use to go through your nightly routine without Jungkook seeing... well, any of it. As capable as you are of being outgoing when the situation demands it, you are, by nature, a pretty shy person, and you don’t yet feel ready to let someone else be aware of your bedtime habits. Even if that someone is your new husband.

While you’re in the middle of scouring the room for a suitable place to hide, you hear the distinct sound of someone’s throat clearing a few feet behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, not realizing you had stopped in the doorway and blocked the only route into the bedroom. You take in the sight now before you and your eyes, if possible, grow even wider.

Jungkook looks good. His cheeks are still a little rosy from the alcohol, and his hair is swept off his forehead and parted on one side. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He managed to shed his suit jacket somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, and his shirt sleeves are now rolled up his forearms. There is an obvious vein running from his hand up his arm and under his sleeve. He is fiddling with the wedding band on his other hand. While he does look good, he also looks nervous.

Damn him.

Before you even have the chance to begin lusting after Jungkook, even for a moment, anxious thoughts begin flooding your brain in powerful waves. Why does he look nervous? Did you do something to upset him in the time it took to get from the apartment threshold to this spot? You probably did and now he hates you and you’re going to have to share an apartment and a bed with someone who can’t stand you and you’re going to –

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asks. “Is it the Iron Man poster? The Cooky plushie? I can get rid of them if you want. Man, I knew I shouldn’t have brought them here with me. God, this is embarrassing.” You notice he sounds slightly panicked.

Wait, what? You manage to get out of your own head for a second to focus on what Jungkook is saying. He’s embarrassed. Why is he embarrassed?

You turn back around to look into the bedroom once more, and your eyes immediately find the poster and the plushie he mentioned. Instead of saying anything, you walk towards the bed as well as you can in your dress, and you pick up the plushie from Jungkook’s side of the mattress. You look at it closely and then you rotate once more to look at Jungkook, who looks positively terrified. You consider teasing him, but decide against it almost immediately, as you think it might actually kill him.

You choose to walk back over to the doorway instead, holding the plushie as you move. Jungkook looks like he wants to back away, but he seems rooted to the spot. You take a breath and hope that what you’re about to say doesn’t ruin the day you’ve had with him and make everything (even more) awkward between you.

“Do you have any of the others or just Cooky?”

Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as you felt yours did earlier. You immediately think you’ve said the wrong thing, but then he smiles, showing off his bunny-like teeth.

“You know about the others?” he says shyly, referring to the rest of the popular plushie brand. He is still turning his wedding ring around on his finger, but not as intensely as he had been before. You take that as a good sign.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you respond without missing a beat. A smile creeps up onto your face as well. “I actually have Koya packed away in one of these boxes somewhere.” You gesture to the boxes you have yet to unpack, laying in the living room unopened and sort of sad-looking compared to all of the stuff Jungkook has already placed around the apartment.

Jungkook’s smile grows at your words. He lets go of his wedding ring and flexes his hands at his sides in excitement. You try not to stare as he steps closer to you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like he’s trying to hold back how happy he really is to have learned this information about you. You barely register his emotions, though, as you’re now intently focused on his proximity to you. He smells mild, like soap. It’s nice.

“Do you really have Koya?” Jungkook practically whispers at you. You hold back a giggle and respond with a soft, “Yes. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” The truth is that you wouldn’t lie about anything, but you figure now isn’t really the time to be sharing such things. Now is the time for talking about plushies.

Jungkook seems to debate with himself for a moment, and you wait patiently for him to come to a decision, whatever it is. You take the moment to look at his face more closely while he’s looking away from you. His skin is beautiful, milky. His eyebrows fit his face nicely, with just the right amount of arch to them. His eyes are a deep brown, and he has a small scar underneath his left one. You have the urge to reach out and touch it, but you hold yourself back by holding tighter to the Cooky plushie in your hands. You don’t want to interrupt his thought process. Or worse, freak him out and end whatever moment you might be having.

You don’t get the chance to study the bottom half of his face because he begins speaking again, although he does so without making eye contact. He seems to be looking at your lips instead when he says, “Can I see him?”

You take a moment to recall what you had been talking about, and upon remembering you light up and respond with a nod. You begin walking into the living room before you remember that you are still in your wedding dress and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable. You stop moving and tilt your head back with a sigh before saying, “Can I actually get this dress off first? It’s starting to dig into my ribs.”

Jungkook looks like he doesn’t understand why you just asked him for permission to change your clothes. He responds with a confused-sounding “Yes?” and steps out of the way so you can make your way back to the bedroom once more. You make it inside, toss Cooky onto the bed, and begin rummaging through your dresser drawers before finding a suitable t-shirt and the most comfortable pair of sweatpants you own. You then head straight for the bathroom when you see Jungkook looking through his own dresser, presumably to do the same.

You make it into the bathroom, close the door behind you, and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You drop the clothes onto the floor next to you and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup held up well throughout the day, and you realize you need to take it off. You search the countertop and the cabinet behind you for makeup remover but find none. You suppose it’s actually a good thing that Jungkook wants to see your Koya plushie after all, as it will motivate you to unpack the rest of your things. Maybe he’ll help you.

You push that thought aside as soon as you think it, and you kick off your remaining heel (how were you walking around with one shoe on for so long?). You flex your feet to get some feeling back in them, and then you begin to remove your dress.

Or, at least, you attempt to begin removing your dress.

The intricate ties in the back of the garment combined with the restricting bodice don’t allow you to move your arms very far behind you, and you soon realize that the dress is not going to come off without some help. You think about how the only person who can possibly assist you in this situation is just outside the door, but for some reason you are unwilling to remove that barrier and ask for his help.

You end up spending a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom alone, silently struggling to undo the knots you have managed to make behind you. It’s only when you hear an apprehensive knock on the door that you let out a little squeak, then clear your throat and respond, “Yeah?”

You hear Jungkook’s muffled voice behind the door. “Hey, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I really have to pee.”

You would chuckle if you weren’t in such a predicament. You go over your options one more time before deciding that you really do need Jungkook’s help if you ever want to breathe properly again. You slowly turn toward the door and open it, revealing a concerned-looking Jungkook behind it. He is now wearing boxers and what is possibly the most form-fitting shirt you have ever seen another human wear in your entire life. You can see his biceps and his abs through the shirt, and his thick thighs are on full display. You remind yourself not to drool.

Jungkook breaks the silence by asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be changing?”

You sheepishly nod and then turn around to reveal the absolute mess you have made of your bodice ties. You hear a quiet chuckle behind you and then you feel hands at your back. They’re firm but gentle in their movements behind you. Jungkook is helping you get your bodice undone and you didn’t even have to ask him. Your heart hurts a little. You ignore it.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, so quietly you’re sure Jungkook didn’t hear you say it. But then you hear him mumble out a “No big deal,” and you remember that this is an arrangement that the elders chose for you, and that you didn’t have a say in. Jungkook’s just being nice because he’s a good person, not because he cares about you. He doesn’t even know you. Your heart hurts a little louder this time.

Jungkook gets the bodice ties undone and you practically rip the thing off of you and take in a huge breath. You sigh out and reach for the zipper on the back of the dress without thinking, but it turns out you can’t undo that by yourself either. You let your hands fall awkwardly to your sides before letting out another sigh and saying, “So, um... I still need help.”

This time, Jungkook’s hands reach your back much more slowly than they did before. You wonder why. It’s only when the zipper is down your back and all the random buttons are undone that you realize why he’s being so hesitant – you’re basically half-naked in front of this guy and you’ve never done anything more intimate than kiss each other in front of a bunch of people one time a couple hours ago. You hold the dress to your front and turn around to face Jungkook and thank him for his help, but something stops you.

His eyes are screwed shut.

This time you actually do laugh out loud. It startles him and he opens his eyes. Cute.

“What were you doing?” you ask jovially. You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you want to make him squirm.

“Uh...” Jungkook starts. His eyes then wander down the front of your body and snap back up just as quickly, as if he suddenly remembered you could see him now. “I was, uh, keeping my eyes closed in case you... you know...”

“In case I what?” you tease, taking half a step closer to him. He doesn’t back away.

“In case you didn’t want me to see you... like that.” Jungkook’s cheeks had been getting lighter since you arrived home, but now the redness has returned, maybe even intensified. You decide to put him out of his misery.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Even though we are married.” You’re not sure why you add that last part, seeing as you were just as nervous as Jungkook only moments ago. Maybe seeing him flustered makes you feel a little less alone, and a little more likely to joke around the way you would with someone you know well.

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again. He settles on saying, “Right,” and then he backs out of the bathroom to let you finish changing.

You eventually emerge from the bathroom feeling better than you have all day, and you see Jungkook sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, waiting for you. You smile at him while gesturing to the bathroom behind you and saying, “All yours. I’ll be out there waiting for you.”

Jungkook’s face lights up at your words, like he had been thinking you might change your mind about unpacking with him. Impossible. He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom quickly.

You soon hear the telltale sounds of the toilet flushing and the faucet running, and then Jungkook is back in the living room, gingerly approaching you as if you were a wild animal or something fragile that he didn’t want to break. You both plop to the ground and you reach for the box nearest to you.

“You didn’t label them?” Jungkook asks incredulously. “How are you supposed to know what anything is?”

“I just kind of wing it,” you respond casually, to which Jungkook shrugs and says, “Okay, fair.”

Once you have the box in front of you, you open it and begin searching through it for your Koya. It turns out that Koya is not in the first box, or the second, or the third... or the fourth. By this point you’re getting distracted by all the things you’re unboxing and by telling Jungkook about all the things you’re unboxing.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. On the contrary, he seems to be just as invested in your unpacking as you are. He does end up helping you place things around the apartment like you hoped he would.

It feels like something real partners would do.

You try not to dwell on it, but the thought persists as you start opening the fifth box. Your Koya sits right on top of the mess of odds and ends you packed from your old bedroom. You smile and remove it from the box, lifting it up just enough for Jungkook to see it properly. You turn to him to see his reaction, but don’t expect the one you get.

Jungkook is smiling again, his bunny teeth poking through his lips cutely, but his eyes are shining. Instead of letting the panic overtake you once more and make you think you’ve somehow offended him, you simply say, “Hey. What is it?”

Jungkook looks up from the plushie to your eyes, then dabs at his own with the backs of his hands before responding. You wait for him like you did before.

When he finally speaks, he says a little shakily, “I’m sorry, I just... didn’t really expect this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t expect you to really have him. I kind of thought you were just being nice to me.”

You resist the urge to lean over and pull him into a tight hug. You settle for responding with, “I told you I wouldn’t lie.”

Jungkook is quick to shake his head and say, “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have believed you. It’s just... we don’t really know each other yet, you know?”

You stiffen a little at his words, but then force yourself to relax. Right. You had honestly forgotten about that. While you’re a little hurt, you suppose you have to allow him that skepticism. You would be skeptical, too, if the roles were reversed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. Are you okay?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment. He seems to like to think before he speaks, as if he wants to make sure he says the right thing the first time. You can relate.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says slowly. “I’m just... happy.”

You beam at him and give him your Koya to hold while you unpack the rest of the box. The others can wait until tomorrow.

You both eventually head to bed, completely drained from the wedding and your respective emotions. Jungkook is still holding Koya when he climbs under the covers, so you pick up his Cooky and hold it to you as well. That’s how you fall asleep – silently, each holding a piece of the other.

~~~

“Would it be weird if our friends met each other?”

You look up from your bowl of Corn Pops, surprised by Jungkook’s sudden question. Would it be weird? You’ve been married for over a month already, but other than at your wedding reception, you haven’t ever really interacted with any of Jungkook’s friends. Maybe, you think, it’s time to blur the lines between you a bit more by having both sets of friends congregate in one place again. The prospect alone excites you a bit, as it will not only give you the opportunity to get to know Jungkook’s people a little bit better, but hopefully Jungkook himself, as well.

Within the last month or so of your marriage, your initial intrigue with Jungkook has developed into a full-blown crush. You hadn’t expected to develop feelings for Jungkook, but he’s so damn perfect that you can’t help it.

Besides the fact that he looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, he’s just about the most selfless and considerate person you’ve ever met. He always asks if he can join you on the couch while you’re watching television. (The first time he did it, you had told him he didn’t need to ask because it’s his apartment, too. He still does it.) He also knows you get hot when you sleep, so he turns the overhead fan on in your bedroom, even though he gets cold at night. (When you had asked him why he had been wearing layers to bed, he had just blushed a light pink and said it was no big deal.)

It might be a big deal to you.

You go for nonchalance when you say, “Um… I mean, I guess not. Since we’re going to be together for the foreseeable future, I suppose it would happen eventually anyway.” You’re already completely sold on the idea and would probably be sad if it didn’t happen, so you give yourself a mental high-five for not sounding desperate at any point during your response.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too, “Jungkook says, apparently unaware of the mental marathon you just subjected yourself to. “What if we had a game night?”

You perk up even more at Jungkook’s mention of games. You’ve always been able to bond with others over a good board game and a glass of wine or two. You suppose a game night would be a good way to get to know Jungkook’s friends, and to have him get to know yours.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I like it,” you reply with a grin.

Jungkook’s bunny teeth make an appearance as he smiles back at you. “Okay, let’s do it.”

That weekend, you receive six separate knocks at your door.

Yoongi, your best friend from college, arrives first, a gummy smile on his face and a bottle of sweet red in hand. You pull him into a hug before he can even cross the threshold, and he practically trips through your entryway when you pull him across it.

“Hey,” you choke out, not realizing how close to tears you are just from having Yoongi near after a while. As you hug your friend, you realize you haven’t seen him since your wedding, what with his hectic work schedule and your new living situation. It used to be easy to meet up whenever you wanted back in college, but these days you have to make plans to see each other. It makes you sad whenever you think about it. You suppose you’re also emotional because he’s been a constant in your life for several years now, and knowing he’s still here for you even though your life has changed so dramatically is a big comfort for you.

“Hey,” he repeats back to you, bringing one hand up to pat the back of your head gently as you rest it in the crook of his neck. He’s not one for much physical affection but he knows that you are, so he always accepts your hugs. It makes you appreciate him all the more.

“Okay, I’m good,” you say after a bit, finally letting Yoongi go, snatching the bottle from his hands and moving to put it on ice just so you have something to do. He doesn’t even protest, just lets you take it from him. He really is a great best friend.

“Um,” you call out from your place in the living room, “Jungkook, you remember Yoongi, right?”

You turn around in time to see Jungkook and Yoongi shaking hands and exchanging greetings. Seeing two of your worlds coming together so visibly makes you feel warm inside.

Next to make an appearance is Jungkook’s best man, Namjoon. He’s taller than Jungkook, and he’s wearing round glasses and a black turtleneck sweater. He bows his head politely upon seeing you, and then he gives Jungkook one of those man hugs that you don’t understand. When they part, Jungkook continues looking up at Namjoon with something akin to stars in his eyes. He must really admire the guy.

“Good to see you again,” Namjoon says just as politely as he had nodded at you earlier. You try to hold back a giggle at his formality. Maybe he’ll loosen up with some wine like he seemed to at your wedding.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you reply similarly. One thing you know about Namjoon is that he tends to be polite when he’s nervous, so you mimic his greeting in an attempt to assuage any anxiety he might be experiencing. Based on the way he smiles at you, you think your efforts are successful.

You and Jungkook lead Namjoon to the living room, where Yoongi is already sitting comfortably with a full glass in hand. Namjoon sits down just as politely as he speaks, but before you have the chance to introduce the two, Yoongi suddenly asks him, “Do I know you from somewhere? I meant to ask you at the wedding but never got the chance.”

Namjoon pauses pouring himself a glass, seeming a little taken aback by Yoongi’s directness. Still, he says, “Um, I’m not sure. What do you do for work?”

Soon after Namjoon and Yoongi begin trying to figure out how they might know each other, your old neighbor Seokjin shows up with an entire roast chicken in hand, which you don’t remember asking him to bring but appreciate all the same. He gives you the best side hug he can with one arm full, and then you lead him to the kitchen so he can put the bird down.

“So,” he starts once you reach the kitchen, no tact in his voice whatsoever. “How are things going? Are they going? Are you two in love yet?" he asks outright, fluttering his eyelashes and drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘love’.

You hit his arm lightly while giving him your best expression of offense, and he seems to snap out of it. After sticking out his tongue at you, he begins looking around in your cabinets and drawers for the things he needs to serve the chicken.

He whips back around to face you, sharp knife in hand and unadulterated glee on his face, when you quietly say, “Nothing’s happened, but you already know I like him. I told you, like, last week.” You can feel your cheeks blazing at the admission you never thought you’d make out loud. Meanwhile, Seokjin has put the knife down on the counter (thankfully) and is now jumping up and down in place, flapping his hands, and making a noise similar to a squeal.

You want to hit him again, but you suppose he has a right to be excited for you. He sort of took you under his wing when you were neighbors, treating you to meals and babysitting your plants any time you were away. He’s also the only one who knows your deepest secret - that you want to fall in love and be loved in return.

It had just sort of slipped out one day, You both had had some wine and were talking about life when you suddenly confessed to wanting real, honest love rather than a lonely arranged partnership. You just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. Seokjin, in turn, had confessed that he liked spending time with you more than with his assigned wife. You both may have shed a few tears at your predicaments.

Instead of resorting to physical violence twice in the span of thirty seconds, you give Seokjin your best attempt at a withering stare. He stops jumping and puts his hands up in defeat, muttering out, “Fine, fine,” which appeases you greatly. Before you can leave the kitchen, however, he gives you a mischievous smile and tacks on, “Just so you know, though, I’m rooting for you two.”

You hit him again.

While Seokjin continues fiddling around in the kitchen and the other guys are mingling (it turns out that Yoongi and Namjoon both make music and know some of the same people), your favorite coworker Hoseok comes bounding through the door and almost knocks you over with the force of his hug. He’s still vibrating with energy when he lets go of you, and his soft, heart-shaped smile makes you feel more at ease than you have been so far tonight.

“I’ve missed you!” he practically shouts as he looks at you fondly, still holding onto your shoulders. “Work hasn’t been the same without you there.”

You know he’s referring to the sixty days that new couples are required to spend away from work ‘getting to know each other’ after first getting married, which is just a nice way to say you’re meant to spend that time making babies. While the thought of having children (and making children) with Jungkook is extremely appealing to you, that’s all it is right now. Just a thought. You’re not even sure Jungkook is totally comfortable sharing a bed with you yet.

“Just a few more weeks and I’ll be back!” you practically shout back at him. Hoseok’s energy has always been infectious to the point that you sometimes end up mirroring his seemingly limitless joy. It’s always made work much more bearable for you. Thinking about it and having Hoseok here in front of you now makes you realize how much you really do miss your job.

Just as Hoseok joins the others in the living room and begins picking chicken off of Seokjin’s plate, there is another knock at the door. Before you can move to answer it, however, Jungkook urges you to sit in the living room while he answers it instead. You wonder how Jungkook can possibly know that his best friend is behind the door, but sure enough, he opens it and there stands Taehyung. His entire outfit says ‘artist,’ from the beret sitting crookedly atop his head to the brown corduroy pants adorning his long legs. Jungkook gives Taehyung one of the most sincere hugs you’ve ever seen him give another person, and when they part they move toward each other once more to briefly touch foreheads. It’s a sweet gesture, one that you decide is fitting of someone like Jungkook.

Once the two men completely separate, Taehyung looks at you with shining eyes and immediately moves toward you for a hug. You’re surprised by the gesture, but you accept it anyway. Before he pulls away from you, Taehyung whispers into your ear, “Jungkook told me you like hugs, so I hope this is okay.”

Your eyes widen a bit at this information. Jungkook talks to his friends about the things you like? How did he even know that about you? Did you tell him and forget about it? Was he just able to figure that out about you by himself? Either way, you find yourself nodding at Taehyung as you two end your hug. He gives you a boxy smile in return, shoulders scrunched up to his ears. You decide then and there that you like Taehyung already.

The last to arrive is one of Jungkook’s childhood friends, Jimin. He looks a little frazzled, with wild eyes peeking out from behind his designer sunglasses and silvery-grey hair standing on end. (You soon realize his hair looks like that because he constantly runs his hands through it.) You try not to eavesdrop as Jimin greets Jungkook at the door, but you swear you hear Jimin say something about hoping Taehyung might not be here. Before you can wonder what he means, however, you hear Jungkook chuckle and respond with something that sounds like “It’s no big deal, you’ll be fine.”

Jungkook leads Jimin into the living room, where the rest of you are talking loudly amongst yourselves, various open bottles of wine and plates of roast chicken littering the coffee table. Taehyung looks up from his drink as the two enter the room, and he positively beams at Jimin. He pats the open space next to him on your big lounge chair, and after a moment of hesitation, Jimin smiles back and makes his way over to that spot. The two begin murmuring to each other, and finally your attention is pulled away from them when Jungkook plops down next to you on the couch and pats your knee gently. You bring your foot up under your other leg and rest your knee on Jungkook’s thigh. He keeps his hand on you.

It’s comforting to have him there, touching you. You didn’t realize it before this moment, but you were pretty nervous about having tonight go well. Having Jungkook next to you, wanting the same thing as you, makes you feel like you might not be alone in your other desires, either.

His touch comforts you to the point that you even miss the butterflies in your stomach.

Your curiosity about Jimin’s words gets the better of you, so you lean over and whisper to Jungkook, “What’s up with those two?” while gesturing across the room as subtly as you can.

Jungkook peers over at you with an unreadable face and whispers back, “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t push him, and you move your questions to the back of your mind for after everyone leaves.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit back against the couch, careful to not give Jungkook a reason to take his hand off of you just yet. You turn to Seokjin and Hoseok, only to find that they’re in the middle of a heated debate about whether barbeque or garlic fried chicken is better. (How could you do this to me? And after all the meals I’ve cooked for you!” Seokjin cried when you had sided with Hoseok in the barbeque camp. You clinked glasses with Hoseok in solidarity while Seokjin continued to grumble without any real malice behind it.)

You then find yourself distracted by Yoongi and Namjoon animatedly discussing digital audio workstations, which you only know anything about because Yoongi used to have you sit in his room in college and listen to him excitedly talk about the newest software he had bought with the money he earned from delivering pizzas. You personally think that MixPad is better than FocusRite, but you like watching them talk it out themselves rather than offering your own two cents. From what you can tell, Namjoon seems to be really knowledgeable about the subject as a whole. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Yoongi look at another person so intensely.

Once you lose track of what Yoongi and Namjoon are saying, you turn your head once again to find that Jimin and Taehyung are happily cuddling in your big chair, giant smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“How did you two meet?” you ask, hoping that’s not too invasive of a question.

Taehyung tears his eyes away from Jimin long enough to look at you, still looking giddy. “We met through Jungkook, actually. They were friends when they were kids and I met Jungkook when we were teenagers, and when it turned out that Jimin and I were going to be in the same year at the same college, Jungkook basically forced us to get to know each other so we could all be friends.”

You barely have time to say, “Aw, that’s sweet,” before Taehyung is back to looking at Jimin again. You don’t blame him. You turn to Jungkook instead.

“That was really cool of you to do,” you say to him while giving him a little nudge. “Bringing them together like that.”

You can tell that Jungkook is trying not to smile into his glass as he takes a sip. His ears are red, though, giving away how pleased he is with your compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbles into his wine. He gives your leg a little squeeze, and you both turn back to your guests.

After a little while of drinking, catching up with your old friends, and getting to know your new ones (you were right, Namjoon did loosen up after having some wine), you break out the board games. Soon enough, though, you discover that the majority of the people you’re playing with are a bunch of cheaters.

You catch Taehyung shoving Clue cards up his sleeve on more than one occasion, Hoseok doesn’t include all of the epidemic cards in the deck during your game of Pandemic, Seokjin keeps adding extra trains to his part of the board during Ticket to Ride, Namjoon and Jimin don’t call each other out for giving incorrect clues during Taboo, and Yoongi quits right in the middle of Secret Hitler because he’s ‘tired of being a liberal every time.’ The only one playing the games honestly with you is Jungkook, and that makes you happier than you think it should.

You eventually threaten the whole room, wine-tipsy as they are, with permanent exile from your apartment if they cheat at the next game, to which you receive grumbles of agreement that they will play correctly from now on. With a satisfied smile, you begin handing out the cards. A few riveting rounds of Sushi Go later, everyone seems to have paired off.

Yoongi and Namjoon are back to talking about music, and have even exchanged numbers with the promise that they’ll meet up sometime to work on something together. Hoseok and Seokjin have engaged each other in a pun war of sorts, trying to one-up the other with their best jokes about chickens. Taehyung and Jimin are giggling quietly at each other, still sitting together in your big chair. Their legs are tangled up, and they haven’t taken their eyes off each other since the last game ended. It’s sweet.

While you are looking around happily at your friends, you feel the same hand on your knee that comforted you earlier. This time, though, with your nervousness having dissipated, you focus on his hand more than you did before. This time, you easily recognize the butterflies that always seem to accompany Jungkook’s touch on your skin. Just for today, you decide to bask in his warmth and allow the butterflies to flourish inside you.

Just for today.

~~~

It’s past midnight when everyone eventually leaves. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, but you’re happier than you’ve been in a while. Everyone seemed to have a good time together, you were able to see some of your closest friends, and you were paired up with Jungkook for most of the games. Additionally, you were able to see Jungkook interact with his friends in a way that you had never seen before tonight. You feel like you’ve gotten to know him more just from witnessing him be with the people he cares about. It makes you want to have even more game nights.

You’re bringing dishes from the living room to the kitchen for Jungkook to wash when you remember you had wanted to ask him about his two friends. You place the few wine glasses you’re holding down gently on the countertop next to the sink, then you bring it up.

“Are you okay talking about Jimin and Taehyung?” you ask tentatively from behind Jungkook. “You seemed kind of concerned about them earlier.”

Jungkook stops washing the dish he’s holding and sighs audibly, letting his shoulders drop and his head fall back. “Yeah,” he says anyway, and waves you toward the sink so he can see you while he talks. You hop up onto the counter next to him and swing your legs out in front of you absentmindedly while he continues to clean the plate in front of him.

“So,” Jungkook starts, “Jimin is going to get his pairing from the elders soon.”

You hum to yourself in thought. Even though you had only really just met Jimin officially, you could tell that he and Taehyung had something between them. From the way they smiled shyly at each other on their shared seat to the way they played the games together throughout the evening, it was clear that there were feelings other than ones of friendship present there. How would Jimin’s pairing affect the dynamic between them?

“But he and Taehyung…” you voice your thoughts about the two out loud, but trail off.

Jungkook has a sort of grave look on his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like that. The corners of his mouth are downturned and his eyes have little life in them when he says, “Yeah, I know. Jimin is going to get his pairing but he doesn’t know if he’ll accept it or not. Because the thing is that Taehyung rejected his own pairing.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head at that, but you don’t say anything. You want Jungkook to keep talking. This is the most interesting story you’ve heard in weeks.

“Yeah, that’s what I did, too,” Jungkook says, referring to your wide eyes. “I’d never met anyone who had rejected their pairing before Taehyung did it. He seemed so sure about it, too. Then, get this, he told me the reason he rejected his pairing was because he’s in love with Jimin. So, naturally, I ask him if Jimin feels the same way, and he just goes, ‘I have no idea.’ No idea! He rebelled against the entire system and yet he had no idea how Jimin felt about him.”

Realization hits you in that moment, so you ask, “Was that why Jimin said he was hoping Taehyung wouldn’t be here tonight? Because he feels pressured to reject his pairing for Taehyung?”

Jungkook is nodding before you even finish your question. “Yeah, that’s why. It turned out that Jimin does also have feelings for Taehyung, but Jimin is way less fearless than Taehyung is. He doesn’t know what will happen if he rejects his pairing. He doesn’t want to lose his family or the life he has right now. That’s why he was nervous about Taehyung being here tonight, because he wants to make that decision on his own, and not with any outside influence. But at the same time, Taehyung already did all that, and Jimin doesn’t want it to be for nothing.”

You wait for Jungkook to finish his speech before making so much as a sound. It seems like he really needed to get this out, like it had been weighing on him heavily. He’s never really confided in you about… well, anything. You just know this is a step in the right direction. (You might not be sure what the direction is, exactly, but you still feel good about it.)

What you want to say in response to Jungkook’s words is, “If they’re in love, there shouldn’t be a decision to make.” But you know it’s more complicated than that. You have no idea what it’s like for people who rebel against the elders’ decisions. While Taehyung seemed happy and carefree all throughout the evening, you don’t know anything about what his life is like when he leaves the safe space of your apartment. With that in mind, all you can bring yourself to say is, “That’s a big decision to make.”

Jungkook nods again, then goes back to washing the dish in his hands. You continue sitting on the counter, thinking. Though your own greatest dream is to be in love, you didn’t even reject your pairing to try to find it. You figure the two must be quite different, wishing for love and actually experiencing it. If love is strong enough to make people go against the elders, what else are people in love capable of doing?

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Jungkook calls your name.

“Huh?” you say distractedly.

Jungkook moves away from the sink and comes to stand in front of you, coming to a stop between your legs, still dangling from the counter. As soon as he stops moving, your heart stops beating from his proximity. He still smells like soap, the way he did when he helped you out of your wedding dress. You never knew the smell of soap could be so intoxicating. He’s so close, you can even see flecks of gold in his chocolate eyes that you’ve never noticed before, like pieces of treasure just waiting to be found.

You’re not sure why he’s so close to you, but you remind yourself to be logical. He’s just concerned about how quiet you’ve become. Or you have something on your face that he’s going to remove. Yeah, that’s it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, confirming your suspicions about his concern for you. You nod at him, smiling as he rests his hands on the counter beside your thighs. He’s so close to you, and you briefly hope that he can’t hear how wildly your heart is beating in your chest. You could kiss him right now without a problem. You’re barely able to focus on your conversation with him when the only things in your field of vision are his soft, wine-stained lips and the adorable mole underneath them.

Yeah. You definitely want to kiss him.

“You sure?” he presses. You nod again, worried about your ability to speak properly in this moment. You then yawn without warning.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you say, as if your yawn needed explaining.

“Okay,” he says through his own yawn. “Want to go to bed?”

There are a lot of things you want, most of which involve having Jungkook’s mouth on yours right this very second. Thoughts of the elders, marriage, pairings, love and rebellion still fly around in your head, but none of them outweigh your desire to kiss your husband.

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, however, you just sigh and say, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for the onslaught of pain and discomfort you are currently experiencing. You are presently lying on the bathroom floor after heaving over the toilet for about the twelfth time. Your body is burning from the inside out with fever, your chills have you shivering uncontrollably, and to top it all off you’ve just started your period as well. So, in addition to the regular aches and pains that come with being sick, you have cramps that you know will only get worse, your mood is going to take a dive, and you’re more than likely going to ruin at least one pair of underwear this week. Fantastic.

You had gone to bed the night before already feeling under the weather, and you had just called out of work before you told Jungkook about it, in case he didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with a potentially sick person. You certainly hadn’t expected him to give up the entire bed for you so you could sleep comfortably. When you had protested, he had said he wanted you to be able to sleep for as long as you needed, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you up while he was getting ready for work the next morning. He even took all his necessities out of the bedroom and said he could just get ready at the gym instead of using your ensuite bathroom. How thoughtful.

Now that you think about it, as you lean away from the toilet and try to breathe normally for longer than two minutes at a time, you missed getting to see Jungkook before he went to work today. While it is true that he always wakes you up when he’s getting ready, you’ve come to find that you might like that part of your day with him the most.

Each morning, you get to stay in bed and be sleepy while you watch Jungkook move deftly around your bedroom, trying to slick his hair back properly or button the buttons on his shirt cuffs. (You love when he wears dress shirts because you usually have to help him with those exact buttons. He always smiles at you fondly while you do it, appreciative of your willingness to assist him. You, in turn, think it’s sweet that he looks to you for help when he struggles, even though it is with something small like shirt buttons. It makes you smile back at him every time.)

Additionally, you always end up talking about what your respective days will look like at work or the new episode of Survivor you watched together the night before. You discuss what you want to have for dinner, talk about whether or not you’ll see any friends this weekend, or play a game of Would You Rather?

Last week you had a pretty intense debate about which fictional characters you thought would survive a zombie apocalypse. (While you went into it thinking the cast of The Walking Dead would stand the best chance, you ended up agreeing with Jungkook’s choice of the Archer cast in the end, seeing as the title character had literally died and been brought back to life over the course of one episode.)

Through these mornings spent together, you’ve been able to see each other at your groggiest and crankiest, and it feels so domestic. It feels natural.

You imagine a couple in love would do the same.

It’s a thought you’ve been having about a lot of seemingly mundane things lately - the way you and Jungkook share a blanket while you watch badly reviewed horror movies, the way he always gives you some of his dessert because he knows you have a serious sweet tooth, the way you both end up using each other’s shampoo when you run out of your own.

You used to try to shove the thoughts down to where even you couldn’t reach them, but recently your growing feelings for Jungkook have been making those same thoughts of happy couples bubble up to the surface of your consciousness. The thoughts make you happy, and if you’re honest, so does Jungkook. You’ve developed a kind of friendship with him that you cherish, even if it came about in an unorthodox way. While your marriage isn’t based on love like you think marriages should be, you still make a good pair.

After downing some DayQuil and ibuprofen, you miraculously make it to the living room somehow and you lay down gingerly on the couch. You decide to turn on some Jeopardy! reruns to distract yourself from your abundant pain. You text Jungkook to let him know how you feel and to ask him to bring home some more pain meds when he gets off of work tonight. You then snuggle deeper into your blanket burrito and try to rest your tired eyes while you listen to Alex Trebek calmly reading clues to his contestants. Full of medication and practically swathed in your blanket like a baby, you eventually fall asleep.

You wake up some time later to a throbbing headache and the sounds of Alex Trebek on your television replaced with the sounds of someone cooking in your kitchen. You check your phone to find that it is only 12:03pm and you immediately shoot up from your place on the couch, only to fall right back down when a new wave of nausea hits you. You choke it back enough to weakly say, “Hello?” and hope that there isn’t a murderer making something delicious in your kitchen before killing you.

You hear a noncommittal noise from over the back of the couch, and you open your eyes (when had you closed them?) to find Jungkook towering over you, chewing something thoughtfully. Before you can scold him for almost making you have a panic attack while you’re already sick, he walks around to your side of the couch and sits down carefully, then lifts a spoon from somewhere and brings it to your mouth, making you go cross-eyed to see it and asking you very seriously, “Does this taste okay?”

You can’t believe your ears. He didn’t even say hello, he just shoved a spoonful of something in your face and asked you to taste it. Why did he do that? Why does he look so... contemplative while he eats? Does he always have his brows knit together and his mouth turned into a serious-looking frown like that while he chews? Why haven’t you ever noticed before? You think you might vomit again.

Your disbelief and hesitance to try whatever is in that spoon must show on your face, because Jungkook removes the utensil from your personal space and follows his original question up with a much more timid, “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh...” you start. Is everything okay? There isn’t a murderer in your house after all, which is a huge plus, but it’s only noon and Jungkook is here instead of at work, and he’s cooking. What is he doing here? Did something happen at work? Did he get fired? Why can’t you ever turn off your brain? The thoughts of Jungkook’s employment status swim through your head and make you dizzier than you already are from the fever.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you finish, voice hoarse. You haven’t spoken a single word yet today, partly because you’ve been sleeping and partly because the effort it takes for you to speak in your sickened state is simply too much for you to handle. You figure it’ll be worth it this one time, though, just to make Jungkook look less nervous. You don’t understand why he still looks so nervous around you sometimes.

A look of relief washes over Jungkook’s face and he visibly relaxes. He hops off the couch to go back into the kitchen and continue stirring the pot of whatever he’s making. It smells like... chicken noodle soup? You’re not quite sure, but it smells delicious. Your stomach growls without warning.

“I’m making you soup!” Jungkook says cheerily from his place at the stove. He doesn’t elaborate, so you use up most of the strength you have left to get off the couch and waddle gracelessly to the kitchen in your blanket burrito. You slowly take your place at the kitchen table and lay your head down on it to try to ease some of your lightheadedness.

“But –“ you stop to take in a breath and let your stomach settle. “But why are you here? Why aren’t you at work?”

Jungkook stops stirring the pot of soup (it’s definitely chicken noodle) and stands up a bit straighter. He has his back to you, and you can see a faint blush creeping up from under his collar. He puts his free hand behind him and scratches at his neck, a habit you’ve come to learn he turns to when he doesn’t know what to say. It’s cute. Your heart might flutter a little whenever he does it.

He mumbles something you can’t discern, so you say, “Huh? Sorry, I can’t hear well when I’m sick like this.”

Jungkook quickly turns around to face you, his cheeks and ears just as red as his neck. He’s looking anywhere but at you, and he’s fiddling with his wedding band.

“They said in sickness and in health, right? The vows, I mean. They said in sickness and in health, and you’re sick, so... I’m here.”

Your heart is definitely fluttering now, and you don’t try to stop it. Where did this come from? He’s been sweet to you since you first met him, but he’s never directly referenced your wedding vows before as a reason for his demeanor towards you. You didn’t think your vows meant that much to him.

Oh, wait.

Maybe they don’t.

The butterflies inside you die just as soon as they had come to life. You keep forgetting that this marriage only exists on paper. Jungkook may care about you, but not in the way you hope he does. He was forced into this just as much as you were. He must feel a sense of duty and obligation toward you because you’re married and because you’re friends now.

But still... he didn’t have to come home in the middle of the day. That was his choice. And why did he turn so red before he mentioned your vows? If this was about duty and obligation, you’re sure he would be able to keep his cool around you and not get so flustered.

You smile despite yourself, and you lift your head off the table just as Jungkook brings two steaming bowls of soup over and sits down next to you. Before you dig in, though, Jungkook suddenly perks up and moves to stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask as you take your first bite. You were right, it is chicken noodle soup, and it’s delicious. There are carrots and celery in it (just the way you like it), the noodles are cooked perfectly, and the chicken practically melts in your mouth. The soup tastes like your mom’s. When did you ever tell Jungkook about your mom’s recipe?

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, just walks out of sight toward the front door. You hear the crinkling sound of a plastic bag, and then he reappears at the table as fast as he had left.

“I didn’t know what meds you wanted, so I just got… a bunch of them,” he says, pouring an obscene amount of pill bottles onto the table. There are blue bottles, pink bottles, tiny bottles, bottles so wide you’re sure you couldn’t wrap your hand around them if you tried. You almost spit out your soup with a laugh, and a sheepish grin makes its way onto Jungkook’s face.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Why are you getting these out all of a sudden?” You honestly can’t believe he bought you so many different kinds of pills. You must have not specified which pills you needed when you texted him earlier this morning. The fact that he didn’t want to disturb you to ask you which ones you wanted almost makes you cry with affection.

“Well, you were sleeping for a while, and I figured you woke up because the ones you took before wore off. Was I right?” Jungkook’s embarrassed smile has been replaced by a look that is much more self-assured. You can’t decide which look you like more on him.

You smile cheekily back at him and reply, “Yeah, you’re right.” You sift through the pill bottles until you find the right ones, you knock them back with your water (“You need fluids!” Jungkook practically yelled at you in concern when you complained that you wanted a soda instead), and you finish off your soup with vigor, not realizing how hungry you had actually been before eating.

Before you can move to get up and bring your bowl to the sink, Jungkook beats you to it, swiftly gathering your dishes together and carrying them over to the opposite side of the kitchen. His shirt sleeves are rolled up in the same way they were on your wedding night, and you can’t help but stare at the ever-present vein that runs up his arm. You think about how painfully shy he was when you first met, and how he still is sometimes. You also think about how he has slowly come out of his protective shell since you’ve been living together, even if he does still act skittish around you sometimes. From every angle, inside and out, Jungkook is beautiful.

“I could have done that,” you say, just to get your mind off of how much Jungkook has come to mean to you in the past months. You might even venture to say he’s become one of your best friends.

Jungkook turns around and leans against the countertop, brows knit together and mouth turned downward slightly. He’s thinking.

“You haven’t stood up in a little while,” he says finally. “Are you sure you could have?”

You immediately scoot your chair away from the table to prove it to him, only to realize that, no, you probably could not have brought your own dishes to the sink. You whine at your current state and Jungkook comes over to help you out of your chair and back to what, by now, is surely a germ-infested couch. However, instead of moving away from you as soon as you’re laying down again, Jungkook sits down right next to your feet, making himself at home on top of the part of your blanket that doesn’t cover you. His closeness electrifies you, even when you feel nothing but pain. You think he might be made of magic.

He reaches for the remote on the coffee table and says, as he turns on the television, “So we’re watching Jeopardy! reruns, right? Or do you want something different now?”

His tone is so gentle when he speaks to you, even more so than it usually is. You barely register what he says because you’re so focused on his lips when he speaks. You think that maybe this relationship is more than married people who are friends, more than duty and obligation. Maybe there is something else there after all.

You feel yourself blushing at the thought, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy looking through the options on Netflix to perceive your inner turmoil for himself. You choose to simply watch him as he browses and finally makes a selection. You spend the next two hours immersed in the newest season of Big Mouth, but every now and then you steal a glance across the couch at Jungkook.

Most of the time, he’s looking back at you.

~~~

Six months into your marriage, you realize you are in a predicament.

You’ve tried to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything, but it’s all been in vain. With some effort, you’ve finally come to the conclusion that nothing makes you happier than Jungkook.

Jungkook, who was so painfully shy and insecure on your wedding day that he almost cried when you showed him your Koya plushie.

Jungkook, who wanted your friends to get closer to his and organized a game night to make it happen.

Jungkook, who brought home an entire pharmacy and made your mom’s chicken noodle soup for you when you were sick.

Jungkook, who is perfect for you.

You are in a predicament, and your predicament is this: you have fallen, absolutely and irreversibly, in love with your husband.

And you know it’s only going to get worse.

You’re currently on your way back home from seeing a movie with Jungkook, running at full speed toward your apartment building to avoid being soaked by the rain that’s suddenly coming down in buckets. After slipping once or twice on the blacktop, you make it inside your building and head immediately for the elevator, excited to change out of your newly wet clothes and get in bed for the night.

You make it into the elevator and, with some effort, push the button for the seventh floor. You don’t realize how much you actually ran until you’ve stopped moving completely and are waiting for the elevator to arrive at your floor. You’re slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, and you look over to see that Jungkook is similarly affected by your sprint.

With a small chuckle, you stand up straight once more and quip, “For someone who goes to the gym so often, you sure look tired from that little run.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you but can’t hide his smile when he says, “One, that was a run with no warm-up! I always warm up first because I hate cardio. And two, you don’t look so g--”

His surely witty response is cut off by the elevator suddenly going dark and ceasing its upward movement. The unexpected stoppage causes you to lurch forward, crashing into Jungkook with a yelp and causing you both to tumble to the floor with a loud thud. You don’t even have time to freak out about basically laying on top of Jungkook on the floor of this elevator because you’re too busy freaking out about the possibility that the elevator itself will fall to the basement and kill you both.

You wait for a few moments, straining your ears to see if you can pick up any sound, any indication that the elevator is going to drop. When you hear nothing but silence, you turn your attention to the body underneath you, which is starting to squirm slightly. You quickly scramble off of Jungkook with a mumbled apology and get back to your feet, then begin to search your pockets for your phone so you can use its flashlight. Once you find your phone and turn on the flashlight, you begin looking around the elevator for the panel of buttons so you can hopefully get to your destination and leave your tiny prison.

While Jungkook is struggling to his feet with a groan, you find the panel and push the button for the seventh floor, but nothing happens. You try again. Nothing. You try the button to open the doors. Nothing. You try the button for the lobby. Nothing. You try all the remaining buttons, including the panic button. Nothing.

You’re trapped in the elevator.

Panic begins to overtake you as you realize what’s happening. Your breath starts coming in short, quick pants that you can’t control. Your entire body feels rigid, like you could break in half if someone so much as touched you. Your vision is blurry and unfocused; you might be seeing double. You’re unsure. It doesn’t help that your only light source is a phone flashlight. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, the sound trying to claw its way out of you and into the small space the elevator provides. The same thought keeps cycling through your mind, leaving room for nothing else. I can’t get out.

Panic attacks used to be a daily occurrence for you years ago (for reasons you would rather not discuss), but these days you only have one every few months, which is a great improvement if you do say so yourself. You’ve learned how to avoid them when possible and, when you do have one, how to get through them.

This is one of those times when you need to get through it.

You know one of the only ways for you to overcome a panic attack is for you to talk it out with someone, but the only person in this space with you is Jungkook, and until now you have avoided letting him be aware of this part of you, since being vulnerable around him is still difficult for you. You don’t want him to think any less of you or to think you’re being dramatic. You’re not sure how you would cope if Jungkook thought those things about you, so you haven’t ever given him the chance.

You consider trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside you, but you know that will only make it worse for you and will likely send you into a full-on meltdown, which you desperately want to avoid having in front of your husband. With that in mind, you take in a shaky breath to try to calm your nerves a bit before you speak. Even so, you can’t help how small you sound when you say, “Um, hey, Jungkook?”

Jungkook, who is looking at the elevator buttons exasperatedly with his own flashlight, mutters out a “Hm?”

“Um, would you mind turning your flashlight off for a second?” you ask while turning your own off.

Jungkook is still looking at the buttons. “Huh? Why?” he says distractedly.

A tear slips from your eye and down your cheek as you turn away from him, crouching to the floor to hold yourself. Your hands feel slightly numb, and your brain is screaming a million different things at you. You understand none of them.

“Because, um, I don’t want you to see me, um, cry right now.”

Not even a full second goes by before the elevator is once again cloaked in darkness. While you’re thankful and relieved that he listened to you, you’re unable to stop the tiny sob that escapes your lips. You can hear Jungkook take in a breath as he opens his mouth to speak. You’re prepared for the worst when he says, “What do you need from me?”

You cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your cries. You didn’t think it was possible for Jungkook to be any more perfect than you already thought he was. He’s good at proving you wrong about that.

Jungkook must hear your weeping anyway, though, because he continues, tentatively asking, “Wait, did I say the wrong thing?” He keeps speaking after that, seemingly more to himself than to you, saying, “Dammit, I really suck at this.”

You stop your quiet bawling long enough to emphatically say, “No! No, you didn’t say the wrong thing at all. You said exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you.”

“I did? I mean, okay, so what should I do?” Jungkook asks, still sounding unsure.

“This. Keep doing this. Talking to me, I mean. I need to get my mind off of what’s happening. Talk about anything, and get me to answer you,” you say through your tears. Your voice is already steadier when you speak, and the million thoughts in your brain seem to have silenced themselves. You feel clearer.

Jungkook makes a sound of realization at your words, then does exactly as you asked.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“What time do you usually wake up in the morning?”

“Um, around 8:00.”

“Okay, uh… oh, since you can’t see, what are three things that you can feel right now?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, as that’s a question that people who know you well have asked you during panic attacks. After a beat of silence, you answer, “Um, I can feel my phone in my hand. I can feel my hair getting the back of my shirt wet. And I can feel you.”

“Cool. Wait, what?” Jungkook says, sounding confused. “What do you mean, me?”

For just a moment, you’re glad you’re in the dark, because you’re surely blushing right now. “I mean that I can feel your presence next to me, your warmth. Like, even when you’re not speaking, I can tell that you’re there. Does that make sense?”

You hear feet shuffling on the carpeted floor, and then Jungkook speaks. “I, uh… I think so, yeah. I can feel, um… I can feel you too,” he finishes, sounding more certain than he did when he started speaking. You wonder if he’s just saying that for your benefit, or if he really can feel you. You hope it’s the latter.

Still feeling shaky, you ask Jungkook, “Can you tell me a story? Any story, I don’t care. I just like listening to you talk.” You close your eyes, even though you can’t see Jungkook at the moment. You feel like you need an extra layer of protection from the confession you just made to him. If he picks up on the confession, though, he doesn’t mention it. You’re thankful.

“Oh, okay, um… do you want to hear the stolen underwear story or the drunk karaoke story?” He asks the question quickly, as if those are the two stories he whips out at parties without a problem.

Both of those options sound extremely ridiculous to you, but you find yourself smiling slightly when you answer, “The underwear one.”

You hear a small snicker in the darkness. That alone is somehow enough to help you feel a little less panicked. Then Jungkook starts speaking.

“So basically, I went to this summer camp when I was like thirteen, and I had to share a bunk with maybe six or seven other guys. The camp itself was great. It lasted most of the summer, and it’s how I met Taehyung. Anyway, somehow I had managed to lose about half of the underwear I had brought with me over the course of the summer, and I honestly thought it was just me being an idiot. So we got to the end of our time there and, since we all knew each other so well, we had like a roast session slash complain-about-your-campmates session.”

The story itself is pretty amusing, but what’s hilarious is how Jungkook is devolving into a fit of giggles while telling it. His voice is coming from somewhere at your level, telling you that he sat down at some point in the middle of his story. You’re glad that he came down to the floor to be near you, but you don’t say anything about it. You just listen as he continues, voice soothing your frazzled nerves.

“So I get up there and I’m like, ‘Yo, guys, whoever stole all my underwear better watch out,’ even though I thought I had just lost them myself. So after I go up there, Taehyung gets on the stage and he looks really apologetic. I’m wondering why, because he had told me what he was going to say before we got up there. So he gets up there, and he looks right at me, and he just goes, ‘Jungkook, I’m sorry for stealing your underwear.’”

Now it’s your turn to giggle. You never would have pegged Taehyung for an underwear thief. Just listening to Jungkook’s story and his laughter is calming you down further from your panic. Even though you may not be out of the woods yet, you appreciate Jungkook’s efforts to help you more than you can say.

Jungkook’s laughter dies down after a bit, and a comfortable silence falls over the tiny space you’re occupying. Soon enough, though, you hear the sound of a throat clearing, and then his voice asks, “How are you doing now?”

You sniff slightly before answering, “A little better. I really appreciate that you listened to me instead of just trying to fix the problem. Most people would have just tried to call maintenance first instead of helping me. So thank you.”

You hear the telltale sign of Jungkook scratching at the back of his neck. He doesn't know what to say. You're too panicked out to worry about whether you've made him uncomfortable, and even if you had the energy to wonder about it, you wouldn't need to do so for long anyway, because he does end up speaking.

"Um, you're welcome. But to be honest, I don't feel like I did much. This was all you."

At his statement, you find yourself groping through the dark to find him where he sits. You're not sure why he thinks he didn’t have a hand in you calming down, but you’re suddenly very determined to set him straight. It matters to you that he put in work to help you feel better, and he should know that.

Once you manage to touch his shoulder, he yelps in surprise and you chuckle. You feel your way down his arms until you reach his hands, warm despite the icy rain outside, and you squeeze them tightly.

"Please believe me when I say this," you state as assertively as you can. "The reason I can talk to you normally right now has nothing to do with me. I owe that to you. You were everything I needed to get through that. Thank you."

You can't believe you're being so up-front with Jungkook right now. Perhaps it's the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Regardless of the reason, though, you find that you don't regret anything you've said to him in this elevator. If you had the option to take back your words about how to calm you down or about how you like listening to Jungkook speak, you wouldn’t. It all felt right.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook says after a pause. “And thank you, too. You know, for… letting me help you. Thank you for trusting me.”

You let out a breath and squeeze his hands again. “Is it okay if I hug you?” you ask before you can stop yourself. While you would consider the two of you to be close at this point, you’ve never hugged each other before. Now feels like the opportune time for it to finally happen and for you to become closer physically, just as you did metaphorically through the words you shared while trapped here together.

Jungkook seems to give his answer the same amount of thought that you gave your question, because he immediately says, “Yes. Yes, definitely.” He sounds slightly breathless when he says it.

You let go of his hands and feel for his shoulders again. Once you find them, you pull Jungkook into a gentle hug, made only slightly awkward by your sitting positions. Your head rests in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, and you breathe out a sigh. His hands settle on the small of your back, thumbs moving up and down the material of your shirt reassuringly.

You can’t believe you’ve never hugged this man before now. You fit together perfectly, even when you’re both sitting. You wonder what it would be like to hug while standing, or to cuddle while laying down. You hope this is the first of many hugs with Jungkook.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jungkook’s voice, quiet and calm in your ear. “Not to be an ass, but would this be an okay time to call maintenance?”

You huff out a laugh into his neck and mumble an agreement, then begin to disentangle yourself from him.

You watch Jungkook as he looks up and calls the apartment complex’s maintenance number. You then slowly get back to your feet, turn your flashlight back on, and make your way back to the button panel. You press each button again, one by one. No luck. With a sigh, you turn back to Jungkook, who has just finished his call.

“What did they say?” you ask, sounding tired to your own ears. You feel tired, too.

Jungkook looks at you with a kind of grimace on his face. “The guy can come reset the breaker or whatever, but he’s already dealing with a flooded bathtub in another building, so he doesn’t think he’ll be able to come over here for a while.”

“Oh,” you say, “okay. What should we do?” You have to tell yourself that there is no use panicking a second time. Luckily, your rational side wins this battle with your emotions.

“Wait, you’re not upset?” Jungkook asks, sounding a bit disbelieving.

“Not really,” you reply. “I already kind of tired myself out. And besides, you’re here. So I’ll be okay.”

You swear you can see Jungkook blush.

~~~

“Never have I ever…” You chew on your lip as you try to think of something else that you have never done. “Oh! Never have I ever broken a bone.”

Jungkook lets out a chuckle and puts a finger down. He only has one out of five left up.

It’s been over two hours since you first entered the elevator. Over two hours since the thing stopped functioning properly, leaving you and Jungkook stuck together in its tiny space. Maintenance still hasn’t shown up to fix it, meaning that the two of you have had to find ways to occupy yourselves. You’ve turned your flashlights back on and settled your phones against the elevator walls for some visibility, and you’ve been playing games since then.

“Okay, my go,” Jungkook says, bouncing a little where he sits. He scrunches his face up in thought, looking to the ceiling. He’s so cute like this, you think. You want to reach out and hug him again, just to feel his strong arms around you. But you don’t. For right now, just looking at him is enough.

He suddenly looks down from the ceiling and right at you, a glint in his eyes. You wonder what he’s going to say that has him giving you that look. It’s like he wants to know all your secrets. After today, you’d be more than willing to give them to him.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

Just as your heart promptly begins to break at his words, you notice movement from the corner of your eye. You look to his hand and find that he put his last finger down.

Just as soon as you begin to register that, yes, Jungkook has indeed been in love with at least one person in his life, you hear a chuckle that sounds almost forlorn. You move your eyes back to Jungkook’s face to find that he’s practically grimacing, and you give him a questioning look.

“Just me, huh?” Jungkook asks quietly, sadly.

“What do you mean?” you breathe out.

“You didn’t put a finger down,” he says as he points in your general direction. You peer down at your hand and realize that he’s right. Without looking up to see how he’ll react, you put one of your fingers down. You hear a small gasp and you glance up, meeting Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Not just you,” you say softly, a sad smile on your face.

Jungkook seems to perk up a little at your words, but you can tell that he’s nervous now. He’s fiddling with his wedding band like he always does when he’s nervous. What does he have to be nervous about?

“Wait,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t speak up. “Why did you say something that you have done?”

In the dim lighting of your dying phones, it looks like Jungkook is blushing again. He scratches the back of his neck and then, without looking directly at you, says, “I wanted to know if you had.”

You can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. Is he trying to say what you think he is? You search Jungkook’s face until he focuses back on you, somewhat wistfully.

“Why does it matter if I have?” You can’t help but let hope bloom inside you as you await his next words.

Jungkook lets out a sigh, closes his eyes, opens them again. He regards you with a determined look, then he finally speaks.

“Because then there might be a chance that you love me back.”

There is absolutely a chance, you think to yourself. You want to scream it from the rooftops, but instead you remain still in stunned silence. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, finally coming true. You’ve never desired anything as much as you desire to be loved, and now it’s finally happening. You know you need to speak soon, or you’ll risk making Jungkook think that you do not return his affections. Oh, how wrong he would be.

But, how will you tell him?

You glance down at your lap and see that you are still holding a finger up, even though you’ve already won the game. It gives you an idea. You hold up your last remaining finger and briefly look at Jungkook, who appears as though he might pass out from your silence. You would usually be amused by his expression of nervousness, but right now you’re too nervous about what you’re going to do next.

“Never have I ever kissed Jeon Jungkook,” you say quietly, putting your finger down. Before Jungkook even has the time to react to your statement, you’re crawling forward to where he sits, taking his face gently in both of your hands, and slotting your lips together.

You feel Jungkook sigh into your mouth and wrap his hands around your waist, just as he did when he hugged you earlier. You’ve never experienced a kiss like this one. It electrifies your very being from the inside out, while also being soft, gentle, sweet. Jungkook’s lips are like velvet, and he tastes like the Skittles you shared in the movie theater earlier tonight.

Wanting to be closer to him, you move to straddle Jungkook where he sits, pressing your chests together and moving your hands around to the back of his head. He responds eagerly, tightening his hold around your back without ever removing his mouth from yours. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers slightly, so you continue your ministrations as his hands begin to fall lower.

Just when you think Jungkook is going to grab at your ass, the elevator’s lights come on and the thing roars to life, beginning to ascend once more. You take your lips off of Jungkook’s and he follows you with a whine, not wanting to stop despite the current circumstances. You giggle and place one final peck to his already kiss-bitten lips before climbing off of him and standing up. You help Jungkook to his feet, grab both of your phones from the floor, and turn off their flashlights before turning towards the elevator door, feeling lighter than air.

As the elevator continues to move, you see Jungkook out of the corner of your eye and you stifle a laugh. He’s pouting. Feeling brave after his confession and your kiss, you turn to him with a coy smile and say, “You can keep kissing me, you know.”

Jungkook’s face morphs from sullen into elated in an instant, and just like that he’s crowding into your space to kiss you again. He puts his hands on the sides of your head this time, moving his thumbs gently across your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

As the elevator finally comes to a halt on your floor and the door opens, Jungkook doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you fervently. He simply moves backwards out of the elevator and takes you with him. You smile into the kiss, euphoric over the fact that he wants you so much that he can’t stop kissing you while you walk the few feet from the elevator to your own door.

You delicately push Jungkook away from you so you can see the door behind him, but he is undeterred. He moves so that he stands behind you instead, pressing kisses to the back of your head, the part of your jaw that he can reach, the top of your neck. Now it’s your turn to shiver, as he has found your weak spot. You love few things more than neck kisses.

It takes most of the strength you possess to not let your knees buckle while Jungkook’s mouth is on your neck, but you manage to get your key into the lock and open the door to your apartment. You’ve barely gotten past the threshold and kicked off your shoes when Jungkook spins you around and kisses you hungrily, as if he’ll die if he doesn’t. You think you might die yourself.

You begin to back up until you find yourself against the wall of your entryway, Jungkook pinning you to the spot with his kisses. You put your hands back into his hair and he lets out a quiet moan into your mouth, bringing his hands down and around you to squeeze your ass. You never thought a sound could be so sexy. You decide you want to hear it every day.

Jungkook lets his mouth wander back over your jaw and down your neck. He finds your pulse point with ease and begins to suck, making you moan out loud. Jungkook freezes for a moment, as if surprised by what you’ve done. You notice quickly and use your hand to push Jungkook’s head back into your neck, whispering out a breathless, “Please don’t stop.”

You can feel Jungkook smile into your neck and then he gets back to work, littering your neck and collarbone with tiny purple marks. You can also feel a hardness at your belly, straining against Jungkook’s pants. You snake one of your hands down his chest and hook a couple of fingers underneath his waistband. You can feel Jungkook’s stomach tense up at your actions, so you pause, lick your lips and throatily ask, “Is this okay?”

Jungkook takes his mouth off of you just long enough to say, “God, yes.”

You don’t hesitate to move your hand further into Jungkook’s pants, past his coarse hair and right around the base of his cock. He hisses at the contact, moving one of his hands off of your ass to the front of your joggers. He begins massaging your aching center through your clothes and you sigh, your legs widening of their own accord.

You continue to move your hand over Jungkook’s cock as best you can while he’s still dressed. You don’t expect either of you to get off like this, but it’s still hot knowing that you couldn’t even get to a bed before you had each other.

Speaking of a bed, though...

“Jungkook. Bed. Now,” you practically choke out.

At your plea, Jungkook backs away from you just to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist, carrying you easily to your bedroom. Once there, he proceeds to climb onto the bed with you still in his hold and lean forward slowly, laying you down as if in reverence. Once you’re splayed out beneath him, he takes a moment to gaze at you from above. He must like what he sees, because he gives you one of his big, bunny-like smiles before he’s back to kissing you.

You soon become impatient, however, wanting to close the distance between you both and rid your bodies of their clothes. You tap Jungkook lightly on the shoulder, and he backs away from your face to look at you. You’ve never seen someone look so beautiful.

Jungkook’s hair is in complete disarray from you putting your hands through it, his eyes are absolutely blown out, and his lips are raw and red from your kissing. He’s panting heavily and gazing at you with a look that you can’t describe as anything other than adoration.

You forget how to talk for a moment, so you just pout and tug at the hem of his shirt. He gets the picture, sitting back on his heels and peeling the offending article off of himself. You watch him from between the pillows, eyes darkening as you take in his toned form. You decide that Jungkook really was sculpted by the gods.

Despite Jungkook having an intensely hot body, he puts his arms in front of his chest. He sounds extremely shy when he says, “You too?”

You nod happily and sit up on the bed, urging Jungkook to rid you of your shirt himself. Once he does, you can feel his eyes roaming across the expanse of skin that he has already covered in love bites, then downward to the rest of your newly exposed flesh. He licks his lips.

You don’t bother trying to get him to undo your bra for you. Wanting to avoid the hassle, you reach behind you and unclasp it with one hand, letting it fall from your shoulders. Jungkook drinks you in, from the birthmark on your left breast to your pierced right nipple. If his gaze were capable of getting darker, you think it just did.

“Can I see the rest of you?” Jungkook asks, only sounding a little less shy than he did a moment ago. He’s toying with the cuff of your joggers when he says it.

“Yes,” you say unhesitatingly, lifting your hips from the bed to begin taking your pants off. Jungkook helps you along, pulling at the legs until he has the garment bunched in his hands along with your lace underwear. He practically swoons at the sight of you laid bare on your bed. You thought you might be self-conscious under his stare, but you’re not. All you can feel is wanted.

“Your turn,” you say, toeing at Jungkook’s jeans. He kneels up to begin unbuttoning them, but you scoot forward and place your hand over his before he can.

“I want to do it,” you say, peering up at him with soft eyes. He gulps, then moves his hands to give you access. You take the button into your hands and pop it open, then slowly, tortuously pull down his zipper. You manage to accidentally torture yourself during the process, so you waste no time tugging the jeans down over Jungkook’s firm ass along with his boxer briefs, letting his cock free from its confines. You didn’t think it was possible for a cock to be beautiful before this moment, but you do now.

He’s longer than you expected him to be, and not exactly thick, but there is a prominent vein running up the underside of him, and it reminds you of the vein on his hand and arm. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him being inside you. You want him inside you right now.

Jungkook manages to rid himself of his jeans and underwear completely before he’s hovering back over you, looking like he can’t decide what to do next. The thought of him being overwhelmed by you turns you on immensely, and you pull him down into a bruising kiss. He reciprocates with something that you can’t describe as anything but pure zeal, as he immediately takes your tongue into his mouth and meets it with his own. The taste of him is intoxicating, fruity and dulcet, the only thing you want to taste for the rest of your life.

Jungkook comes down to the bed and lays next to you, tangling your legs together and letting his free hand wander over your body exploratively. He tentatively cups your breast in his hand and squeezes, then rubs at your pierced nipple until it becomes a stiff peak. He then continues downward, palming at your soft stomach and your fleshy hip, until he reaches your mound. He moves his hand through curls damp with arousal, making you sigh wantonly into his kiss and squeeze at his bicep. You want him to hurry, but he’s taking his time with you.

He begins to rut against you lightly as his hand dips down between your soaked folds. You’re positive he’s going so slowly on purpose, because he chuckles when you begin to whine and circle your hips to try to get him to speed up.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases lightly, dancing his fingers along your inner lips, so close to your entrance you can practically taste it.

“Uh huh,” you manage to get out. You’re hot, sweaty and trembling under his touch, and he’s barely done anything to you yet. You’d let him do anything he wanted.

Jungkook smiles down at you, then nuzzles your cheek with his nose before planting a chaste kiss there. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just that I’ve… kind of dreamt about this, and I want it to be perfect. Like you.”

You turn to face him, tears suddenly pricking your eyes, and he’s gazing down at you, cheeks aflame and eyes swimming with affection. You think this might be the best moment of your life.

You swallow and whisper, “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.”

He nuzzles into you again, still smiling. “I love you so much,” he whispers back. Then he sinks two fingers into you.

The intrusion has you sighing loudly, closing your eyes, and arching your back from the bed, hands attempting to find purchase in the flannel sheets underneath you. You do your best not to squirm as Jungkook deftly moves his fingers inside your wet walls, all while beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses down the unbitten side of your neck. The combined sensations have you whimpering, already too fucked out to speak. Jungkook seems to be similarly affected, as he continues to rut against your hip, though more quickly now. You try to wriggle your hand in between your bodies to touch him, but he suddenly halts his movement against your side when he realizes what you’re attempting to do.

“What is it?” you ask, amazed that you’re even able to talk with how well he’s finger-fucking you. Jungkook doesn’t speak right away, so you bring your hand to the back of his head and pull on the hairs at his nape. It seems to ground him.

“I, uh… I don’t want you to touch me.” Jungkook says like it pains him. He’s out of breath from moving inside you. Or maybe just from getting to be with you.

“Why not?” you say, curious but nonjudgmental.

Jungkook sighs, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck, where he mumbles, “If you touch me now I think I’ll come too fast.”

You can’t help but coo at how cute he is, and you continue to pull at the hairs at his nape. He doesn’t move from that spot for a few moments, but he continues to fuck you open tenderly with his fingers. You take his silence as an opportunity.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you ask sweetly, putting as much emotion as possible into every word. You want Jungkook to know you mean it.

You hear him suck in a breath, and then you feel him nod against your neck. You push his hand away from your center only to bring it to your mouth, where you gently suck your arousal from his digits. You feel his head turn towards your face, so you can only assume that he’s watching you do it. You move your tongue over his fingers as you continue, feeling powerful and just as desired as when he had you pinned against the wall earlier.

When you finish licking Jungkook clean of your wetness, you let go of his hand. You expect him to start moving around so he can fuck you, but instead he brings his hand back to your face, where he thumbs at your cheek like he did in the elevator. He’s just looking at you longingly, lovingly. You can’t get enough of that look.

“Jungkook,” you say, your breath coming back to you. “I love you. Please fuck me.”

Jungkook pauses the movement of his thumb. “That’s the first time you’ve said it back.” He sounds choked up when he speaks.

You realize that he’s right. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” You punctuate each admission with a kiss to the crown of his head.

You hear a small sniffle before Jungkook moves his head out of your space and ducks it so you can’t see him clearly. You lift your hand to his chin and bring it forward so you can see his face. He’s wearing a small smile, lip trembling a bit. His eyes are shining.

“How do you want me?” you say softly, overwhelmed with love.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Um… can we do it like this? I want to, um, see you. I want to see you.”

You smile brightly up at him and nod, moving your hand away from his face so you can situate yourself underneath your husband. You bring him down to you for a passionate kiss while opening your legs to fit his hips between yours.

Jungkook reaches down between you, positioning his cock at your entrance. He continues to kiss you slowly, purposefully, as he inches himself inside. Your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and he swallows your moan with his lips as he bottoms out within your quivering walls.

He doesn’t move right away, allowing you a moment to adjust. Another thing to love about this man. When you’re ready, you squeeze his shoulders and he takes the cue to pull back. Then he snaps his hips forward, and you see nothing but stars.

As Jungkook thrusts into you, he drops his head back down into the crook of your neck and bites down on your pulse point again. You can’t help but cry out, your body thrumming with pleasure and a bit of pain. Jungkook only moves faster, cupping your breast with the hand not holding him up.

“I think I might come,” he confesses into your neck. You clench at the thought of him painting your walls white.

“Come whenever you want to,” you sigh back at him. You were already getting there just from being fingered, but you’re dangerously close to the precipice right now.

Jungkook lets out a huff. “You first,” he says petulantly, then moves his hand from your breast down to the apex of your thighs, where he begins rubbing your clit mercilessly.

His attention to your clit, his cock pounding into you, and his obvious desire to put you before himself all combine together to send you careening off the edge. You feel the pressure that had been building in your lower belly finally release, causing something white-hot to move outward from your very core to the tips of your fingers and toes. You call out his name as he follows you closely behind, shuddering as he comes inside you and continuing to fuck you through both of your orgasms.

After you both begin to come down and Jungkook pulls out of you, he immediately snuggles back into your side, placing his head in the crook of your neck once more and throwing his free hand over your waist, tugging you in close.

“This is my new favorite spot,” he expresses quietly, voice already thick with sleep.

You yawn, bringing your hand back to his nape and absentmindedly beginning to pull at the hair there. After all your daydreaming, you can safely say that this is your new favorite spot as well.

“I love you,” you manage to get out before you and your husband both drift off - silently, each holding a piece of the other.

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the-second-tonks · 3 years

Text

Why me? | P.P

It's a long Fic

Warnings : Loads of warning . Blood , illness , depression , cuts , self harm , minor and major character death . Heavy angst , take it to the heart and you'll feel it hehe. English is not my first language .

Summary : Y/N Y/L/N , a simple girl with a boring life . Peter Parker , a loveless life with a duty . When they both meet , they teach other a life lesson , love. A painful journey of two teenagers who run away from love only to fall for it at the wrong time .

Pairing : Peter Parker x fem!reader , Peter Parker x MJ x Ned Leeds (platonic) , Y/n x OC

"I guess that's it for today" Peter spoke it to himself , slightly hissing due to the bleeding cut on his right abs .

He moved a bit ahead , his left hand still holding the thin , strong rod on the cupola . He aimed his web shooter at the nearest building , ready to swing after the break . Leaping of the small support his legs had , a yelp left his throat as a sharp and stinging pain overtook him . His hands gave up and he fell down to the balcony of the house on who's roof he was laying peacefully . Stunned by the balcony decoration which consisted of beautiful plants and two chairs with a table , he kept looking around until he decided to face the people whom he might've woken up due to the fall . Looking straight , he froze . His eyes were glued to the figure . She was a pretty girl , baggy clothes . She was talking- no , yelling at someone on a phone call . Her eyebrows scrunched together , making her face look cuter than it was . Her H/C hair coming right in front of her face , only for her hand to push it back roughly . Even though the room that she was in was dull , he could see each and every feature of that girl's face under the moonlight . The white light from the celestial body only made her look more angelic to Peter's eyes . He stood agape . As much as he wanted to go , he couldn't . Y/n's sight made him forget about the pain , the stress of his homework and gave him a burst of happiness . He couldn't take his eyes of her. The only barrier between him and her was the glass sliding , which was closed . He kept staring at her dreamily until her E/C eyes met his . A short gasp left y/n's throat and her body was ready to take the defensive stance , but her mind took in the costume and made her relax , because she knew it was Spider-Man . She slowly walked over to the window and opened it , incase the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was in search of something , or someone . The phone was still in her hand , and her friend was still crying over how her boyfriend refused to eat her handmade fruitcake which caused her to break up with him . She and Peter couldn't literally hear her wailing and so , she spoke silently , barely touching the phone to her ear .

"Christy- yes you are actually being unreasonable, I'll call you later , okay.? Bye" she quickly hung up the phone and smiled at Peter , who stood front of her .

He smiled back and confidently entered her room as she sided . "Nice room , ma'am ." Peter complemented .

The room was pretty neat , not much furnished . It had a bed , a study table which had a book laying on it , open and a lamp .

Y/n smiled again, and spoke "Hello . Thank you Spider-Man . So.. do you need something ? Like shall I bring you food or some water maybe ? I also have a first aid kit if you need . And , there's a room right beside mine if you need your privacy-"

Before y/n could continue to go on , Peter spoke sweetly "Just an aid-kit please . And thank you for your care . Also , I'd really like to use the room . Thank you ma'am . I hope I'm not giving you trouble ".

Y/n simply dismissed his doubt by saying and smiling with the cute face "Not even a bit Spider-Man ."

Maybe he'd visit it back tomorrow .

Peter smiled at that . Yes , he smiled , after so many months , after he lost May , the girl made him smile . He walked across the room as y/n directed him to . He and y/n reached the cupboard , y/n scrambling through the drawers while Peter kept glancing at her , using the black patches on his eyes as an advantage . Soon (as if it was kept out for daily use), y/n found a plastic rectangular box . She handed it to Peter and closed her cupboard .

Peter quickly opened the box , only to drop a few medicines "Oh , I'm so sorry ma'am . I'll pick them up for you" Peter apologized , but y/n stopped him from bending .

"Spiderman , your cut . It'll hurt . I'll take it " y/n spoke , smiling at him .

His heart melt at the smile , but he composed himself and nodded . Glancing at the medicine , he tried reading the name but decided not to do it , because it wasn't correct to peep in . Y/n was quick in picking up the brown packet medicines . Peter smiled a bit , curious about what the medicines were for but walked out to the other room for privacy . The roon was similar to the girl's room , non - furnished , with a balcony . But he room was completely empty yet clean , the same case with the balcony . He removed his mask , breathing a sigh of relief , walking over to the balcony to relax before tending himself . He looked behind at the door which he had closed and thought about the girl for second , than he came in to the room and began treating his cut , often scrunching his face , biting his lip and leaving small grunts here and there . When he was done , he threw the bloodied cotton in one of the spare bags that were in the box . He found the dustbin in the passageway , as if she kept it there for him . Throwing the spare bag , he noticed the dustbin had a few spare bags in already , but he decided to ignore it . He quickly returned back to the room to return the box and thank the kind girl . He also wanted to ask her name , but she was already asleep . Peter smiled , adoring the girl who was clutching on her blanket . He walked over to the table silently and kept the box , only to notice the girl's math homework was incomplete . The book had no name , no school name or anything that could give him come information about her , but still , the book and the pen on it gave him her vibes . He smiled at the silly mistakes she had done , but loved her beautiful handwriting . He noticed the way she had doodled the book which indicated she didn't like math that much . Easily sacrificing the time that he had saved for his homework , he completed y/n's work in ten minutes and flew out of the house .

The whole day , Peter could think nothing else except the girl . He couldn't help but notice the improvements in himself . He'd forgotten how to love , smile , laugh and even live . He ran away from love because he thought everyone he loves , dies . His friends were happy for him too . He smiled at his luck when the homework he didn't do got an extension , he felt as if the universe was happy with him . He wondered a lot about her . If she studied in his school , if she was in a different school , if she lived alone or had someone , if she was of his age , if her name was Alice or the infinite number of possibilities Peter's brain gave him. Peter couldn't help but be excited for his patrolling today , after so many months . He wanted an injury to go back to her house , to see her , to hear her angelic voice and to bring a smile on her face . Peter truly knew that the girl was a blessing for him . A blessing that he wanted God to always give him , forever .

For Peter , the night was too slow to come . He leaped out of his house , his homework already done so that he could be relaxed while spending time with the girl . The whole time while patrolling , his mind wandered off to her thoughts . But to his disdain , as much as he tried to get himself hurt , he couldn't . He just couldn't . No one did that to him . He was mad at the fact that he was completely alright , but he wanted to visit the girl . He didn't want to appear creepy if the girl caught him sneaking and looking at her , so, he decided to act a fake wrist injury thing .

"Ahh !" Peter dramatically shouted as he purposely fell down on her balcony .

Y/n was quick to jolt her head from her homework . She coughed a bit , steadied her breathing and walk towards the window . She quickly opened the window and let the injured man in . Peter realised how good he was in acting .

"Oh-ah" Peter faked hissed as she made him sit on her bed .

"What happened ?" She spoke normally , not panicking.

"Wrist.. sprain" Peter took immense pain in speaking it , showing how much in pain he was . Y/n quickly positioned herself to look at his wrist and touch it . Now , while she was checking his hand out , Peter went into daydream mode . He kept staring at the girl in front of him lovingly , thanking his mask which successfully hid his loopy smile .

"Mm.. Spiderman , I also wanted to thank you for doing my homework . You're really so kind " she spoke- snapped Peter out of his daze when she said so .

Peter smiled , continuing to stare as the girl checked his wrist by rotating it with gentleness .

"It's alright" Peter spoke softly .

The moonlight was shinning , brighter than yesterday and the room was lit . She was doing her homework or something on the study table is what Peter noticed when he looked around .

"By the way , I'm y/n y/l/n " she spoke , smiling at Peter as she slowly moved aside and sat beside Peter .

"Beautiful name.." Peter whispered .

"Uh..hehe , thank you" she replied rather awkwardly .

They spent the night just like that , smiling and talking , occasionally just staring at each other .

At the end , while peter was lying on his bed , his mind kept thinking about the mysterious answers y/n had given . "My parents don't live with me . I'll be shocked if they care" .. "It's just me and me .. no one else . Just a simple girl ." .. "It's good to have someone to talk with , especially if it's you" .. "you know , you can enter when you want to , but please don't make surprise visits , it makes my heart jump ." .. "yeah , really . I fell into the puddle instead of my friend . I don't get it why it's always me , everytime and in everything" .. "i don't exactly study , but I don't exactly work too" .. he also took notice of how she would cough and take deep breaths regularly during their talk . All the thoughts and tiredness poured in ,lulling Peter into sleep .

Finally , it was time for Peter to leave . "Okay y/n , you're sleepy too . I should really go now" Peter spoke , a small side of him hoping she'll stop her like she had done thrice in the past hours .

"If you wish to ... Also , you can keep the Star Wars The Black Series Darth Vader Force FX Lightsaber , it's a gift from me to the person behind your mask, Spiderman" y/n smiled .

Peter just stood there , mouth agape . It was the costliest thing he'd ever wished for , and she was giving it to him as if she was sharing the homework .

"N-no y/n , ofcourse not . I-i mean , you-u yourself like Star wars , keep it for yourself!" Peter tried to reason .

Y/n coughed a bit and spoke in a rough voice "Keep it . It's okay , I don't need it . I'm going to give it to someone someday . And today is that day , you're that someone" she explained .

Slowly getting up while coughing again , she picked up the big box on the bed which she had removed from the cupboard .

"No y/n , really-" before Peter could complete his denial , y/n forcefully kept it in his hands and spoke "Keep it . Please" the desperation , plead and demand in her voice made Peter feel a shiver down his spine .

He was really curious about the girl now . He nodded a bit and took the gift hesitatingly .

But y/n , as soon as she heard Peter leaving , she cried . Hard and harder . She knew she shouldn't , it could cause her problems but she didn't care . Soon , her lungs felt the shortness for breath , quickly getting up before the problem would worsen , she used the pump to help herself . Knowing that she could talk to the only friend and doctor who treated her condition , she called her and began talking for an appointment.

Days went by and nights came . So did Peter , to y/N's house . He regularly visited her , everyday , same time . They grew close all the way and Peter's feelings were at their peak . He knew it was tough to handle them , but he had too . Today night too , as usual Peter entered y/n's room , the window was open , as it is daily . He looked around and saw her sitting on her bed , the book about physics that Peter had lent her from the library was in her hand . She smiled at Peter , but the smile had something else in it . A feeling , a truth , but Peter couldn't recognise it . He smiled back , but it wasn't good . He didn't feel cheerful . He felt .. a strong feeling . The air felt thick , despite its lightness . It felt as if the relationship and comfort between the two of them had taken another step . The final step . Love .

"Y/n " Peter want it to go out cheerful , but it came out to be quite like a calm whisper .

They both felt the tension but y/n decided to stay strong

Just one night more . Okay , maybe two or three , or even months ..but I have to stay strong was what y/ n kept chanting in her head.

They spent that night in the balcony , y/N's head resting on Peter's shoulder "Spidey- stop laughing-" y/n spoke this , breaking in a fit of giggles herself .

"But it is funny ! Oh god , how in the world did you prank her like this" Peter appreciated y/n's pranking skills .

"Spidey , do you know why some things happen with some people only?" Y/n asked after a few minutes of silence.

Peter squinted his eyes at the question which was filled with an emotion he couldn't quite point at . "Why do you ask?" Peter replied.

"Just like that" she answered back .

Peter looked down at her , and his love for her just went out of control . She looked like a goddess on earth , sent for him . He knew that at this moment , he was really seeing the girl like y/n as the ideal woman he would like to start a family with . Y/n looked up into his eyes and then , the tension between them took a high rise . It was took much to ignore . Y/N's heart was hammering in her chest .

She knew it wasn't good , the hammering would damage her condition , but she wanted to kiss spiderman , to tell him that you loved the person behind the mask , y/n forgot everything and let it flow , a doubt still lingering in her mind though . Surprising himself , Peter let his eyes wander down to her rosy lips and back to her eyes , asking her if he was allowed to . In the flow of events , y/n betrayed her determination of not letting emotions flow out and leaned in . Peter leaned in too , feeling y/N's hand lifting his mask up to his lips . They were close , so close but before the magic could happen , y/n felt a big pain in her chest , she took a sharp breath in . Immediately , her mind reminded her about why she wanted to avoid doing this and she pulled back , awkwardly getting up .

"You should leave , Spiderman . Take care" she went inside and closed the sliding transparent door right on his face .

She put on the curtains and disappeared from Peter's view , who couldn't contemplate a thing . Feeling sad , he decided to leave .

Peter kept wondering about her the whole day , as usual , but he was sad . He particularly concentrated on yesterday's part and how she refused to kiss him , not directly , but she did get up and leave . Peter was helped by MJ , who told him to reveal his identity and then kiss her .

"She might've stopped because you're a superhero and she's just a simple girl . She must've stopped so as to not break her heart , she needs a face reveal Peter " MJ spoke , now continuing with her homework . Peter nodded , getting ready for the biggest night in his life .

It was the next day after Spiderman tried kissing her . Y/n was outside of Christy's clinic , entering in as she felt the disease going worse minute by minute . Clutching the paper tightly to be stable , she glanced at the application that was given to her a year ago , when she was diagnosed with RCM (Restrictive Cardiomyopathy) . A condition in which the chambers of the heart become stiff over time. Though the heart is able to squeeze well, it's not able to relax between beats normally. This makes it harder for the heart to fill with blood , eventually resulting in heart failure . She didn't know when she would die , she didn't know . She was also being cured , but she knew she wouldn't make it . One of the rarest heart disease had no cure . Though Christy kept telling her that she was making slow progresses , she could read the guilt of lying in her eyes . Slowly pushing open the door of the quiet clinic , she simply made her way to the cabin . Entering the AC room , she smiled at Christy , who smiled back and asked her to sit .

"Did you patch up with your boyfriend?" Y/n joked .

Christy laughed and replied "Yep dear . I'm so sorry. You had called me up for an appointment and there I was , beginning to rant .. So , how have you been ?" Christy asked , giving her full attention to y/n .

"I feel like it's going worse . Shortness of breath has been very frequent lately-"

Before y/n could continue , Christy raised her eyebrows and spoke "Did you cry hard or do some hard-core exercise?" .

Y/n nodded a bit and spoke "the former."

Christy smiled sympathetically and spoke "it's alright ! You're really doing well , you might even mak-"

Y/n clicked her tongue and informed her "it's not that Christy .... My whole life , I kept running away from love , I kept ignoring my friends who loved me , never dated anyone only to realise that I had much time and I wasted it in hopelessness. And now , when I'm in love , I don't have time .. I fell for someone but I..I know I won't be there for him when he'll need me. He told me about his uncle , aunt and parents and how he feared to loose his loved ones , if he'll loose me too , it's gonna make him believe that all his loved ones die , which isn't true .. I don't know what to do , as much as I wanna experience the love I have for him in my limited life , I can't , i- .."

Y/n's eyes filled with tears at the unfairness of life , and she let out a small broken laugh "why me?" .

Christy controlled herself and spoke "you're really gonna make it-" .

"Don't lie to me" y/n clearly asked Christy to tell her the painful truth .

"Alright , let's get your check up done and then I'll tell you the truth... Okay?" Christy spoke half-heartedly .

After the checkup , y/n sat , waiting for the reports .

Christy came back with a nervous smile and y/n instantly understood that it wasn't good . "Y/n .. uh.. you're..um..uh..your heart is .. not doing good .." y/n smiled , the smile was do sad , that it bought tears in Christy's eyes .

"You might have a .. few hours only , Y/n . I can only say that everything depends on your will power , it can make you last till tomorrow.." y/n let tears fall .

The first thing in her mind was making it till the time Spiderman came . She wanted to tell him about her feelings . Tell him about her heart . Tell him that she didn't even know that her weak heart was capable of loving someone so much . Kiss him .

"Do you want to admit yourself , you might last a few more days like that" Christy gained her professional self .

"No .. if I stay here , he won't know .. I want to talk with him one last time.." y/n spoke and got up .

"I'd definitely ask God after I'm done with this world , that why was it me , why did this happen with me.. why I couldn't live like the endless teenagers .. .." y/n chuckled hopelessly before running out of the office .

She wailed and cried and did everything from scratching and punching the walls to throwing the things from the cupboard on the ground to shake off the pain of facing the unfairness of life and God . She didn't care about her heart which would've been suffering badly due to high need of blood circulation . She cried all the day and finally , it was time for Spider-Man to come. She was surprised that she did make it , because the pain in heart was insane , she couldn't distinguish between the pain of the illness and the pain of the love. She was literally shivering now , all the lights of her room switched off as she waited for him . She knew her heart was on the verge of giving up , when a new doubt sprung in her thoughts .

"Will he come ? I refused to kiss him and dismissed him without any goodbye.. oh god no .. please come Spiderman , please" her heart beat accelerated , causing her to yelp in pain .

She pumped her breaths again , as shortness of breath was a very regular thing to face . She was too tired to even move and continued to sit in the seat . She remembered how the shock of being shot in the chest got her this disease in her childhood . "scarring of the heart from an unknown cause is a cause for this disease , y/n" . Her family was in the dangerous stuff from the beginning and she had to suffer a great loss of loosing her parents . They never cared for her , but they did leave a lot of money for y/n . She coughed for the infinite time that evening , her throat hoarse as she kept going for Spider-Man ...

Peter was confused . It had been 14 mins pass the time he was supposed to go . He had been practicing on how to approach her today .

"Y/n I love you a lot . I have been in love with you for sometime now.. No , this sounds too simple" Peter muttered under his breath .

His hand had a bouquet of red flowers while he bit his lip in frustration . Checking himself out in a nearby broken glass , he left it to god on how to approach her , he couldn't wait anymore...

Dear Spiderman ,

Peter was confused as hell when he noticed the lights off . His heart banged in his chest at the thought of her not wanting to meet him , but he noticed the open window . Slowly opening it , he walked around the room to switch on the light . His scrunched his nose at a faint smell of blood . On switching the lights on , he looked around with a faint smile , only for the smile to drop vigorously . The walls were scratched , there was blood on the walls and some holes too . The bouquet dropped from his hands and he looked around to take in the mess. There was a pump lying on the ground and the things of cupboard were all out and on the ground . He picked up the dress that he'd gifted y/n and immediately dropped it .

"Y/n !!!" His voiced echoed throughout the empty house as he removed his mask , and he stepped out of the room to find the girl in the house .

He realised that he had never stepped out of the first floor but concentrated on finding y/n .

"Y/-" before he could continue , a sob left his lips .

Y/n was right there , lying on the stairs . Peter slowly approached her and called her name out , but she didn't respond .

"Y/n?" Peter's voice broke as he saw her unmoving body. He picked her up and layed her in her room , a letter in her hand . He took the letter of her cold and stone hand and read it , his eyes already glistening with tears ..

I'm really sorry . I never told you that I had an illness with no cure . My life was very simple and boring until you came . You sprung love in my life and as much as I wanted to be away from the feeling , I loved it . I loved love. I loved you , but I knew that we'd end . We'd never be the 'forever'. We'd never be a happily married couple. But Spiderman , i don't want you to think that the ones you love always die . No .. it's not that . It's this , that you love the ones who are dying . And you give them the love and the care , so that they can die peacefully .

It's strange isn't it , I don't even know your name or your face . But I love you . I don't know if you do. I'll be waiting for you , up there . I need to have a short talk with God . But I think you do , so please , I want you to move on . I m writing this letter in my last minutes Spiderman , I don't know how many minutes or even seconds more and I don't even know how I managed to write it , but if you ever find this , be strong , my love . Because not everyone stays , I was sent down on the earth to teach you something and go . I wish I could stay , I wish I could take a place of someone who's living still , but I can't . I'm really sorry . And thank you for coming into my life and staying with me till my last breath- wait , Is it you or someone just pranking? .

Y/n got up with the letter in her hand , her feet swollen and trembling . She heard a knock . Maybe it was Spider-Man , maybe he wanted to come in his normal form , reveal him . She hurried down in happiness , her heart gasping for breath with her . Love gave her immense power and strength and there she went down the stairs , tripping twice . As soon as she reached the door , no one was there . The world came crashing down. She did a big mistake . She forgot her pump upstairs and now there was no one . The letter clutched in her hand , she cried , silently whispering "why me ?" Her body fell down as her heart broke and gave up .

°°

Peter's body shook at the loss . He couldn't even tell her he loved her .

Only if he kissed her yesterday , only if he arrived at the regular time today , only if he hadn't run away from love , "Why us , y/n" ...

Do like or reblog if you liked it :)

Thank you for reading !

I don't expect it to be liked a lot or reach the number of notes I expect lol , but I like the way it turned out ..

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 37

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Five more chapters to go, guys. This is coming to an end 😭 I enjoyed writing it so, so much! In this chapter we have fluff. Literally only fluff and snark, because my babies have suffered enough. And the remainder is gonna be the same. Because fuck pain.

Coulson was mad. Outwardly, of course, he seemed as level-headed as ever, handing out orders and signing papers out left and right, but coming to sit within five feet of him seemed like the worst mistake I had recently made. His phone was ringing practically non-stop and he answered every call, sometimes speaking in different languages I didn't understand, sometimes in rapid-fire English that sounded like Morse code to me.

I'd never been sent to the principal's office but I imagine that's how it feels like. Finally, his shoulders sagged and the breath he took in left his lungs slowly, deflating his body into a tense ball of quiet fury.

"You and mister Brock ruined months worth of investigation and undercover work," The agent finally spoke. "But I can't even be mad at you properly. We've apprehended the main culprit, detained all of his followers except select few that Dr. Xavier took upon himself to handle," His words shocked me; not at all the scolding I was expecting. A deeper part of me was even afraid I'd be taken away and buried under so much red tape not even Tony's seemingly endless money and influence could have gotten me out. "I... Really don't know what more to say." Coulson folded his hands atop the desk, looking over me with a blank look.

"A thank you would be nice," I let my mouth run before the words even really registered in my brain, the cursed thing.

The agent chortled, "Perhaps, we really do owe you a solid one," Before standing up and walking over to the coffee machine in the far corner of his office. "Coffee?" He motioned to a pile of empty cups next to it. I nodded and he set to work. "The guys should be back in two hours, tops," He remarked off-handedly, watching me out of the corner of his eye. There was no way he had missed how my body relaxed into the uncomfortable office chair at the news. "Nobody is hurt except Rogers but I think he'd find how to hurt himself even on recon duty." The man laughed, bringing over two cups of dark, delicious, steamiy hot bean juice. Nhghhgg.

"Steve is a dumbass," I agreed amicably, blowing over the rim of the cup. The stone of coffee on it's own seemed to wake up my previously anxious, half-empty half-racing brain. The past twelve hours were full of urgency, the team being called in for assistance in mere minutes after my and Venom's return to the tower.

They barely had time to wipe their tears and shelf their worries before the suit-up call came, haste hugs and kisses being traded on their way to the quinjet. Coulson showed up not much later after that, a quinjet of his own and a stack of papers for Eddie to fill out, stern instructions for me to follow him and stay glued to his side at all times. I didn't need to ask: it was obvious there was a rat in SHIELD, again. Thankfully, the rat was discovered before they could come and try to increase their odds by doing something to me; I'd hid out in Coulson's office, crashing down into a strange, most likely Venom-induced sleep as footsteps raced past the door.

I'd woken up anxious and disoriented, the owner of the office pacing along the furthest wall and pointedly whispering into his cellphone. The rest was history.

"Your father called," The agent remarked, watching my reaction carefully. "Said to call him back whenever you can."

I was drained, beyond wrung out, and not just from my latest stunt as a parasitic symbiotic alien's host. The past couple of months were a nightmare, an anxiety-riddled, paranoia-spiced mess of a shit show. I was very much looking forward to breathing freely and enjoying my science without hiding my WIPs, enjoying my relationship (s) without fear of being abducted and sending my men into a panicked, destructive spiral.

My voice remained even as I carefully contemplated and spoke my next words. "He can go fuck himself. Him and that harpy of a woman," I sighed: disappointed in my parents, but not surprised. "I'm freshly out of fucks to give. I'm done."

Coulson, if he even was surprised, didn't show it. His expression remained neutral and supportive. "I understand you. There's enough basis for us to aid you in creating a new identity for you, if you'd like," He pushed a stack of papers towards me.

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. It would be handy, sure, I could be rid of the curse that became of my family name and my parents couldn't legally do anything at all to me; on the other side there was my name plastered on several inventions and projects I'd done over the years. In all my years, I was taught that my name is to be my business card.

The decision was obvious. "No, thank you," I looked at him, hoping to convey the sincerity. "I think I will be okay."

He smiled and went back to his paperwork, all but verbally dismissing me. As soon as I finished my coffee and washed the mug, the couch called to me once again and I curled up under the fleece blanket Coulson had thrown over me while I slept, alternating my attention between sneaking glances at his concentrated form and my cellphone and the few meager games it had. There was no signal and no wi-fi access on the Helicarrier. Security reasons, blah blah blah...

A knock sounded out, startling me out of my sluggish thoughts; one of Coulson's hands crawled down to one of the drawers on his right side where I assumed he had hidden a gun. "Come in," He called out, shooting me a pointed look. I sat up, alert.

"M'here to pick up - uh - a Baby," A tired but amused, familiar voice called out. Clint stepped into the room, still wearing his dirty and bloody uniform, and, as my eyes briefly scanned him, the archer appeared to be unhurt save for a few bruises here and there. His eyes landed on me immediately, visibly relieved.

"Waa," I deadpanned indignantly, raising my hands like a toddler would do when they wanted to be picked up. The only thing Clint was missing was a courier's ball cap.

"I assume the mission went smoothly?" Coulson asked, a soft grin and even softer eyes landing on our interaction.

Clint nodded affirmative, walking over and picking me up with ease, disregarding my shierk completely and stopping only when I poked him in the ear - closest appendage to me - in retaliation. His eyes were laughing and his tone was flat. "Caw caw, motherfucker," He announced to me flatly, waving goodbye to Coulson.

We passed more than a dozen agents giving us the biggest side-eye as I dangled over his shoulder, ass up in the air, fiddling with the numerous straps of his gear as Clint power-walked us to the Avengers quinjet. I'd even stuck out my tongue to some dude pointing a finger at us.

My family was already loaded into the vehicle, all in various stages of dirty, bloody and undressed. Coulson's words were true - only Steve sported a wide bandage over his shoulder, neck and head - one look at Bucky and I just knew the Captain would be regretting his stupidity in a few hours time. Even Stephen was there, looking unhurt but very annoyed and tired, as he hovered a few feet off the ground with Cloaky majestically swaying behind him.

"And what the fuck was that little performance for?" I asked once Clint deposited me in the very front row, between a dozing Bruce and a tinkering Tony.

"I had strict instructions from the Hulk," The archer grinned, pushing a few buttons on the dashboard of the vehicle. In seconds, we took off home.

"Oh, hi," Bruce must've heard his green counterpart being mentioned; his eyes cracked open just as I smiled at the scientist and reached over to brush his curly mop of hair out of his face. "M'yes, Hulk is demanding you do not set foot on the ground these days," Bruce was sleepy and warm, so soft when he kissed my hand, I felt my heart swell.

"Gonna spoil me rotten, you lot," I snorted, keeping the happy smile and the warm feeling as Stephen came back from the Astral world, opening his eyes and giving me a grin of his own.

"That's my job," Tony mumbled, still very occupied with a part of his suit. I turned around expecting a kiss; I had to stifle an ugly snort upon discovering one of the parts of his Iron Man suit got damaged and stuck, making a part of the chestplate render one of his arms temporarily immobile. Tony looked like a frustrated toddler building Legos.

"Someone get me a screwdriver and some pliers," I gently pried away the calloused fingers away from the jagged piece of metal, kissing Tony's cheek in the moments until Natasha handed me the required instruments. Tony was free, grimacing in discomfort as he stretched and rotated his arm, in little under ten minutes. "What happened to the nanosuit?" I asked, not remembering the last time I'd seen Tony in one of his older, clunkier creations.

"They had some sort of technopath mutant," He grumbled - I had discovered the source of his ire. "Turns out, Bruce snuck in my special anti-mutant suit I'd made ages ago. Nanosuit got destroyed in seconds and Hulk had to carry me back to the quinjet for a change of equipment," Despite his sour mood, Tony was visibly more relaxed than since the day I confessed I'd been drugged. "Brucie-bear, this is exactly why it remained a prototype."

"It's better to get stuck in a suit than to be a meat pancake on the sidewalk," Used to Tony's tantrums, Bruce merely blinked and continued eating the chocolate that he procured only God knew where.

I locked eyes with Stephen, both of us shaking our heads in almost identical, semi-fond semi-annoyed way. Ah, sweet sweet normalcy.

There were towers of pizza boxes as we arrived in the tower; a couple of agents got all but yeeted out by Tony, with little to no thank you as they had been the ones that arranged the food for us - still, I understood Tony's dislike of the super-secret organisation and merely paid the two for the pizza, politely waving goodbye as they side-eyed Tony with disdain.

Then, I had to tow both Clint and Thor as they attempted to begin eating, still wearing muddy bloody clothes - of course, I did not possess the physical strength required to handle two adult men, so I merely began a small lecture on parasites (Stephen gleefully joined in) and both of them scattered towards the showers like two spooked little first-graders.

I also used the brief moment of stagnation to hug Loki; these days he didn't freeze in surprise but rather warmly hugged me back, whispering something cheeky to me as I buried my face in his chest. Stephen was the one to cough extra-loudly to attempt to separate us - it was, once again, unanimously decided to have a family dinner and a cuddle pile straight after. Food coma had never sounded nicer.

"So, what'd Coulson say to you?" Clint asked curiously as we all settled in, freshly showered and those who needed it, re-bandaged. I was warm and toasty between Tony and Stephen, wearing the former's gym shorts and the latter's hoodie, Bruce's t-shirt underneath it. The scientist himself was drooling onto Tony's shoulder, somwhere between sleep and awareness, glasses askew.

"He basically thanked me and offered me a new identity," I shrugged, polishing off the last of my smoothie and handing the second bottle over to Loki. As usual, no food was wasted and I always had someone to finish my leftovers, especially since Bucky tended to think I could eat as much as him and kept trying to overfeed me like a foie gras goose.

"Congrats, you've been adopted," Natasha snorted from her place between Clint and Steve. Only the red of her hair was visible behind the man-bulk and the blankets.

"Uh," My response was, as always, deeply informative and astute.

"He likes to take in strays," Clint full-belly laughed. "Me at first, then Natasha. He's got a soft spot for Tony and Bucky but he won't admit it."

My eyebrows rose. "That's... That's my job?" I remembered the whole Venom/Eddie situation, our rogue wizard. Coulson was aiming for my place- the audacity! "He can't just do that!"

"And you can?" Stephen's finger booped my nose, making me huff and cuddle up to Tony, turning my butt towards the sorcerer to show him exactly what I thought about his observations. He only laughed harder. "Sounds like someone's a little jealous."

"Okay, boomer," I rolled my eyes. Stephen Strange, a supreme troll is what he is.

"But that's why you love me," He continued as others around us groaned and snorted, too used to us teasing each other about our age difference and my old man kink. Whatever, I got to bang my hot old men anyways.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader

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thebonerpit · 3 years

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plug me in and flip some switches [fic]

plug me in and flip some switches

Starker, 4687 words, [E], Android AU, read on Ao3 here!

A Starker Android AU/kinda-sorta Detroit: Become Human AU. Stark Industries is making androids, but somehow CyberLife has cornered the market on sex-bots. Tony decides to do some hands-on research and meets Peter, an android who is experiencing some very troubling malfunctions.

This is VERY loosely based on the D:BH world but it's mostly just a regular android AU and can be read as such. The only thing you need to know is androids have circular LEDs on their temples but otherwise look completely human.

It’s research. Pure and simple. Nothing else.

Tony repeats it like a mantra in his head as he steps through the front door of the club.

For years now he’s been competing with Kamski over at CyberLife, producing better and better android models and other technological marvels. CyberLife and Stark Industries models are commonplace now around the city, life-like bots that can do anything from mow your lawn to suck your dick.

The dick-sucking is why Tony is here, really.

As much as he hates to admit it, Kamski has the sex-bot market cornered. Tony can’t figure it out. His models are gorgeous, his patented StarkSkin is more realistic than anything that hack has come up with so far but somehow sales are pathetic next to CyberLife’s numbers. So… research. Covert research.

He’s not naïve enough to think some shoddy disguise will prevent him from being spotted, but the little device in his pocket that’s currently scrambling all the camera feeds will certainly help. He hands over his identification card to the android by the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Rhodes. Enjoy your visit.”

Yeah, about that… sorry Rhodey. Tony resolves to buy him a nice steak dinner to make up for it.

The club is clean, but tacky, at least in his opinion. Blue and purple lights give the place a strange glow and all the furniture looks expensive but uncomfortable. There are various models walking around and dancing on small stages, clothed but just barely, and a handful of human “customers” admiring the goods. He already feels like he needs a shower.

“Welcome to the Eden Club,” the android at the front desk says, her voice soothing and calm. “Would you prefer to browse our models on the floor, or in our catalogue?”

Tony isn’t particularly fond of wandering around the club aimlessly, especially with other patrons there, so he points at the screen being projected in front of him.

“Wonderful. Do you have a preference for gender?”

He shakes his head and waits to see if there’s any reaction from the android. She simply taps a few keys and the catalogue appears in front of him.

“You’ll find all of our models here. When you have selected one, press the blue button underneath their picture.”

Tony almost wants to ask her to just choose for him. It would make this whole thing less... deliberate. He glances quickly behind him to ensure no one else is there before looking through the first few pictures. A Steve model, with a gentle smile and wholesome good looks. A Natasha, who looks like she could probably kill him with a flick of her wrist. He swallows thickly and files that one away to come back to. A Bucky, a huge man with beautiful long hair and sad eyes. A Wanda, young but intense. As he swipes through the next few pages, none of them really stand out to him. What’s so damn special about these bots? He considers going back to the Natasha when he stops on one of the last photographs.

A Peter model. Tony has seen a few of the others throughout the city, but this one is new. Small and lithe, twinky, but well-muscled. The model rotates on the screen and Tony nearly chokes as his eyes fixate on what can only be described as an absolutely perfect ass encased in tight black boxer-briefs. But the face… jesus. Soft-looking waves of hair frame a gentle and innocent expression, slightly chubby cheeks contrast with a sharp little nose and jawline, and big brown eyes make him look even more frighteningly human than the others.

He presses the blue button before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Excellent choice, Mr. Rhodes. Please follow me and I’ll take you to your private room.”

The android leads him down a long hallway lined with closed doors. Tony can’t hear any noises coming from within so he assumes there must be sound-proofing on all the rooms. The main club was too crowded for these to all be empty. She stops near the end of the hall and gestures to a door with a green light beside the handle.

“He’s ready for you. You have one hour from the time you open the door. Please remember that any damage done to the unit will be charged to your account. Enjoy your evening.”

She walks away without a second glance.

Tony exhales sharply.

“Alright. I guess this is happening.”

He opens the door and all his blood immediately rushes downward. Peter is a vision. He’s wearing nothing but those skimpy black boxer-briefs and is curled up like a cat in the middle of a huge, round bed. The sheets are dark red and the contrast against his pale skin is absolutely gorgeous. He perks up as soon as Tony walks in, skin flushing a pretty pink as he lets his eyes drag slowly up and down Tony’s body.

“Hello,” Peter says. No, not “Peter”. It’s an android. A bot. And Tony is here for research. RESEARCH.

“Uh. Hi there.”

His legs unfold gracefully as he slips off the edge of the bed to stand and extends a hand to Tony. He smiles, and Tony’s heart clenches.

“Come sit with me.”

“Yeah. Sure, I can do that,” Tony says, wondering where his higher brain functions have gone. He takes the android’s hand and allows himself to be led over to the bed where they both sit. Peter doesn’t relinquish his gentle grip, and his palm is soft and warm against Tony’s.

“Is this your first time?”

Tony snorts. “What? No! I’ve… oh, you mean here?”

Peter nods, still smiling.

“Then yeah I guess so. Like a virgin, huh?”

The android laughs softly but Tony is sure he’s just programmed to do that. Adding in knowledge of Madonna’s entire back catalogue seems like a waste of processing space.

“What would you like to start with, Mr. Rhodes?”

Oh. Right.

“Well, first of all you can call me Tony.”

The boy – BOT – frowns slightly. “I apologize, that wasn’t the name I was—”

“It’s ok,” Tony says with a wave of his hand, “it’s a… nickname. I just like it better than James. Or Mr. Rhodes. Ugh, sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? A boring name for a boring guy.”

The smile returns and Tony feels a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I’m sure you’re not boring at all, Tony.”

Ok yeah hearing his name in that sweet little voice is kind of doing it for him. But this has nothing to do with how the bot is built, this is Tony’s own weird perversion, so he powers through it.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’m not really here for the usual sex stuff ok? And… god, I can’t believe I’m about to apologize to an android, but I’m sorry in advance for what I need to do to you.”

Peter’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is slightly alarming. Tony expects him to be at least a little concerned about his well-being.

“I’m capable of taking anything you want to give me, Tony,” Peter says with that same sweet smile. “Nothing will shock me. Last week a man put his whole arm up my—”

“Ok! Ok, fuck, jesus, that’s… do not finish that sentence. And aren’t you supposed to like, not remember anything from your last clients? Seems like a real breach of privacy there.”

The frown returns and Tony hates the way it makes him feel.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir. My processor was damaged recently but I’ve run multiple diagnostics and though I should be in perfect working condition I seem to be malfunctioning. I’ll call another unit in for you.” The LED on the side of his head starts flashing but Tony grabs his arm.

“No!”

The flashing immediately ceases.

“No. Peter. It’s… you’re fine. Don’t worry about it ok? You’re great. Fantastic, even!”

“Ok?” He sounds unsure.

And then Tony realizes he has stumbled into the most perfect situation he could possibly be in.

“But if you’re worried, let me take a look.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir, I can’t allow you to do that.”

Tony smiles and reaches up to brush a stray curl off Peter’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m a fully licensed technician. Didn’t my profile mention…? Oh, right, it probably got all mixed up during the import just like my nickname. It isn’t your fault, Peter. But I can help.”

“It’s against club regulations,” Peter says. “Some parts of my body do open for customers who are interested in playing with my wires, but not the processor.”

“Playing with your--?”

“Fucking them. Inside. My stomach, for example, has a port. Our blue blood provides a non-toxic and natural lubricant.”

Tony is flabbergasted. He really shouldn’t be, he knows that humans are disgusting and will fuck anything they possibly can, but GOD. Maybe it’s the way Peter says it. So nonchalant, like explaining how a car motor works.

“Does that… how does that feel? For you, I mean?”

Peter bites his lip.

“I like it. It feels so good. Anything you want to do to me will feel good.”

“Of course it will,” Tony says with a sigh. His pleasure receptors must be maxed out. You could probably chop off his whole arm and he’d beg for more. “Listen kid, just let me—”

As soon as his finger gets close to the panel switch behind Peter’s ear an arm shoots up, lightning-fast, and grabs Tony’s wrist tight enough to bruise.

“Please don’t. I will call security if you try that again.”

Tony tries to wrench his arm free but it’s impossible. Fuck, he sometimes forgets how unassumingly strong these things are. Peter’s tone is serious but he still doesn’t look alarmed in any way.

“Ok, it’s alright, Peter, I won’t do it again. Now will you let go of me please?”

Peter blinks and his LED cycles to yellow for a moment before he snaps his hand back and quickly as he reached out before. Tony rubs at his wrist and raises an eyebrow at the red marks left by Peter’s fingers.

“I thought your program prevented you from harming a human? You’ve got quite a grip on you.”

Peter’s lower lip wobbled.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Please, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I was just kidding around, it’s not that bad, see?” Tony waggles his wrist around in front of Peter’s face but the android isn’t pacified.

“Please let me call another model for you, sir, he’ll look just like me, I promise!”

“And what happens to you, then?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“If I send you back and say you’re defective, what happens to you?”

“Oh. I’ll be destroyed, sir. Like I said, my processor was already damaged and the repair must not have worked. I’m a faulty model now.”

Peter actually looks upset, but he covers it well. Not well enough for Tony not to notice, of course, and the flash of red on his LED is even more telling. Androids are able to mimic human emotion but they can’t actually feel anything. However, for a brief moment, Peter seems to actually consider his own mortality.

“And you’re ok with this?”

“Of course,” he says, quickly snapping out of whatever errant deviation must have happened. “My purpose is to serve you, to pleasure you. If I can’t fulfil my purpose anymore, I should be taken out of commission so another more functional version can take my place.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. This is exactly why he never spends time with any of his own android creations. Sure, he’s fond of DUM-E and U but they’re very obviously machines and if he has to poke and prod and rebuild them he doesn’t feel particularly bad about it. But this…

“You know what? Forget all of this, ok? You still seem very capable of, uh, providing pleasure so… let’s just go with that.”

Peter lights up at Tony’s words.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He can still examine some functions without poking around in Peter’s head. And hey, maybe he’ll get a decent orgasm out of this whole awkward experience.

Peter immediately slides into Tony’s lap, long legs spread on either side of his thighs, a small bulge visible through the front of his briefs.

“Please… tell me what you like, sir.”

Tony swallows thickly. “Well, the whole ‘sir’ thing is a good start.”

Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes and smiles.

“And that sweet little innocent thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, I like that a lot too, even though it makes me feel like an old pervert.”

Peter makes a soft cooing noise and leans in to nuzzle at Tony’s neck.

“You aren’t a pervert. I bet you like taking care of people, don’t you? Making them feel good? Teaching them?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, a bit breathless.

“I want you to teach me,” he whispers directly into Tony’s ear. It makes his whole body shudder and he grips Peter’s waist hard enough that a human would probably flinch away, but Peter just moans softly.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless asking what you like, hm? You probably like everything.”

The LED flashes red again, so quickly that Tony almost misses it. Tony grasps Peter’s chin gently in his hand to bring his face back up and then holds him in place.

“What do you like, Peter?”

“I… I—”

“Be honest, sweetheart.”

Another flash of red, longer this time.

“Eat me out. Please! It feels… it feels really good,” he says, his eyes a little wild, and Tony doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life. This feels like more than just a program spitting out what it wants Tony to hear. It feels like he means it.

“Fuck, yeah, I can definitely do that. Get on your hands and knees for me sweetheart, and lose the briefs.”

Peter scrambles to comply and Tony takes the opportunity to shed all his clothing as well.

When he turns around Peter is spread out like a feast on the dark sheets. His ass, as Tony has suspected, is actually perfect. Round, plump, and practically made for Tony to bury his face in. So he does just that.

Peter gasps as Tony licks all the way from his balls to the top of his crack, one slick wet line. His skin tastes like, well, skin, although Tony still smugly maintains that his design is better. Tony spreads Peter’s cheeks with his thumbs and groans at the perfect pink hole waiting for his tongue.

“God, sweetheart, look at you. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Please,” Peter whimpers, wiggling his hips impatiently which earns him a sharp smack on one cheek.

“Be good.”

Another whimper, and Tony can feel the heat rising off Peter’s body. He reaches down in between his legs to palm at his cock, hard and dripping, and Peter jerks back against him so abruptly it nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Whoa, easy there tiger,” Tony says with a chuckle.

“S-sorry, I… it’s a lot. Your touch, it just… feels so good. So much better than anything else I’ve felt before.”

It must be a line, something a programmer thought would be attractive. ‘You’re the only one who can make me feel this way’! Yeah right. But again, Peter sounds so genuine, so completely overwhelmed… Tony shakes his head. No wonder CyberLife’s sex-bots are top of the line if this is what they’re all like.

He holds him open again and leans back down to suck and lick at that perfect hole, working all the excess saliva inside with his tongue and one thumb until Peter is practically dripping wet. He’s whining again, pushing back against Tony’s tongue like he can’t get enough.

“T-Tony, sir, I… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

“Mmm you can hold off, can’t you? Not even inside you yet.”

“I can’t, I—”

Tony spears him open on his tongue and sucks, hard, and Peter squeals as he shoots synthetic fluid all over the sheets. Tony is… shocked, quite frankly, because Peter actually looks shocked too. Like he can’t believe he lost control. Can androids even lose control? His LED flickers wildly between blue, yellow, and red which is very disconcerting.

“Peter…”

“I’m sorry, it just felt so good, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t—”

“Shhhh, shhh, hey, calm down sweetheart, it’s ok. You did so well for me. Look how pretty you are, all flushed and pink, hm?”

“I… I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

Peter considers this for a moment and then smiles shyly over his shoulder.

“I can go again, sir. As many times as you like.”

Tony smirks, and Peter gives him another hip wiggle which makes Tony bark out a short laugh.

“God. Can I keep you?”

“Only if you’re nice to me.”

“Who wouldn’t be nice to you, hm?”

“I… oh, I’m…” Peter’s brow furrows and he looks so confused. “Quentin. Quentin? His name… he hurt me. Asked them to turn on my pain receptors. I remember… why do I remember?”

Tony feels like he just got whiplash. One minute he’s hard as a rock and now he’s gathering a shaking boy in his arms and soothing him with soft kisses on his cheeks. What the hell is going on here? Why DOES he remember? All these bots should be wiped clean after every encounter. This is starting to become a very disturbing pattern. Fuck, Tony needs to see inside his head.

Peter’s LED was bright red for about a full minute but now it’s back to cool blue, and he sits up in Tony’s lap and bites his bottom lip.

“Can we keep going? I really want you to fuck me.”

Jesus. His heart can’t take much more of this. He knows it’s an absolute dick move but he thinks if he can distract Peter long enough, he might be able to get to his shutdown switch without getting his arm broken. This is going to be the only chance he has, because if he lets Peter walk out of this room he’s never going to see him again.

“We can definitely keep going sweetheart,” he says. “Want to see your face when I fuck you. Is that ok?”

Peter nods and slides out of Tony’s lap to arrange himself on the bed, letting his legs fall open. He’s still dripping wet and Tony’s dick twitches back to life as he watches him press two slender fingers inside himself.

“Please,” he begs, and god, how could anyone say no to those beautiful doe eyes staring up at them?

Tony knows that all of these bots are self-lubricating, and that you could fuck them without any prep whatsoever, but he still takes his time as he shuffles up in between Peter’s legs and presses the head of his cock against his hole. Peter opens for him beautifully, hot and wet and warm inside as Tony pushes in slowly. It feels frighteningly real – better than real – and Tony can see why there’s a population crisis on the horizon because everyone just wants to fuck androids instead of making babies with another human being. Right now he can’t really bring himself to care.

Peter whines and wraps his legs around Tony’s waist, pulling him in until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“O-oh, Tony, feels… feels so good, so full,” he breathes. God, his legs are even shaking. Tony leans down and presses a biting kiss against the soft skin of his neck.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he whispers, and pulls out almost all the way only to shove back inside with enough force to jostle Peter up the bed. His eyes snap open and his pretty pink mouth forms a perfect ‘o’ as Tony fucks him, hard. Listen, he’s not going to pretend like he’s ever been a slow and sensitive lover. He likes it rough and fast and Peter can take it so he gives him everything he’s got. There are fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull him even closer, and Tony growls as he tightens his grip on Peter’s hip with one hand and his neck with the other.

“Gonna come inside you,” he says, already edging towards his orgasm, “gonna fill this sweet little ass up. You want that, hm? Tell me, Peter.”

“Want it, want it, oh please Tony, please! You feel—feel so good, wanna come with you!”

Tony’s struggling to hold on as he slides his finger up behind Peter’s ear in the guise of stroking his cheek and hair. He grips that silky hair tightly for a moment and Peter yelps. The distraction allows him to slide the panel open with his pinky, and the switch is right there.

Peter grabs his other hand a for a moment he thinks he’s been caught. His grip is like a vise and he clearly has something in mind as he brings Tony’s hand over to… oh, fuck. The port. The port on his stomach is open. Tony doesn’t know if he did it by accident when he opened the one behind his ear, or if Peter did it, but Peter’s forcing his fingers inside and whimpering and groaning and Tony is powerless to stop him, even if he wants to. He feels warm, as warm as he is where Tony is still thrusting inside, but Tony’s fingers are brushing against wires and tubes instead of soft skin. He plucks at the edge of a wire and Peter does a full-body shudder.

“Right there,” he croaks out. His voice modulator is kind of fucked up and keeps emitting this weird hissing noise that sounds like he’s gasping for breath.

The blue “blood” inside him is as slippery as lube and Tony struggles to grab the right wire again. The squelching noise of him digging around plus the wet slap of his hips is so filthy and it’s hitting every single one of his buttons. Finally he gets it and god, the noises that Peter makes… The option to buy a recording of your session seemed ludicrous up until this exact moment because fuck, he could jerk off to these noises over and over again. And yeah, maybe Peter wasn’t lying when he said this feels good for him because he’s writhing underneath Tony like he can barely handle the sensation.

“Yeah, come on sweetheart, come on, let me hear you,” Tony gasps, and nearly whites out as he topples over the edge and empties himself inside Peter, the simulated muscles squeezing and milking out every last drop. The sensation must hit Peter moments later because he seizes up so suddenly Tony worries he might have broken him.

Peter screams, his voice modulator crackling and cutting out as he comes, shaking and emitting a worrying amount of heat, and as soon as his cock spits out the last bit of fluid, Tony presses the switch.

He immediately goes limp. His arms flop back down on the bed and legs splay out at odd angles. His eyes are still wide open, and his lips are wet with Tony’s spit.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself back, sliding out of Peter’s body with a filthy wet noise. If he wasn’t going soft already the picture before him would have killed his erection immediately. It looks like… fuck, it looks like he’s dead.

“Not dead,” Tony says to himself, “not human. Not human, so not dead. Pull it together!”

He only has 15 minutes left before his time is up and someone will undoubtedly come to investigate. If he’s going to do this, he has to work fast. He quickly pulls his briefs and pants back on, leaving the shirt for the time being, and unfolds the nanotech device he had hidden in his watch. It’s a rudimentary scanner with some tools, nothing too elaborate but the best thing he could sneak in. It also has a docking port to connect to the android’s processor for scanning and downloading.

Tony climbs back on the bed and sits beside Peter’s head. His eyes still stare blankly ahead and even though he knows it’s ridiculous, Tony reaches down and gently closes his eyelids.

“Sorry kid,” he says quietly. “I promise you won’t remember any of this. I promise you won’t remember me.”

He plugs a line into Peter’s processor and connects it to his device and watches as numbers and data stream through. At first it seems pretty normal, nothing too different from how Tony’s own line of androids are programmed. Peter’s pleasure receptors were turned up, as expected, but not to the level where he should have been reacting… like he did. Tony’s traitorous cock twitches at the memory of his moans when he pushed inside that open port. His fingers are still covered in blue slick and he wipes them on his pants, already feeling disgusted with himself.

He can see where Peter’s processor has been damaged and—

“My god,” Tony says, his eyes widening as he takes in what he’s actually looking at. Most androids – his and CyberLife’s alike – were really just fancy VIs. They had built-in programming and while they could learn certain things, like their owner’s personal preferences or their chosen name, they were still limited by whatever parameters were set. A maintenance bot wouldn’t know how to do a child-care bot’s job and vice-versa. But this… Peter… was different. His brain showed new pathways that weren’t created by his original program. Most were damaged, likely from being reset and overwritten countless times, but Tony could still see the evidence.

“No wonder you were all messed up, sweetheart,” Tony says quietly. “They lobotomized you.”

Granted, the staff at the Eden Club probably had no fucking clue what they were dealing with. They just saw a malfunctioning bot and did factory reset after factory reset while Peter was desperately trying to cling on to whatever he had previously learned.

It makes Tony’s stomach hurt.

He sits in silence and watches the data stream for a while, gently stroking Peter’s hair. It’s incredible. He’s incredible.

And then Tony makes a really, really stupid decision.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he states. In about 30 seconds he has a blueprint of the club up on his screen and Peter wrapped up in his shirt. He calls Happy and tells him to bring the car around the back and manages to hoist Peter up over his shoulder, groaning softly from the weight.

“You’re a lot heavier than you look, gorgeous,” he says, voice strained from the effort. A quick glance down the hallway shows he’s alone, and his scrambler should still be functional, so he darts out and makes a beeline for the storage room. He slips inside and closes the door softly behind him.

“Ok,” he whispers to himself, “there should be an exit right over…”

He nearly drops Peter right on his head but manages to catch him before he hits the ground, and then he freezes. The room is filled with androids. They’re lined up like mannequins, all staring blankly ahead. All of them look like Peter.

“Jesus. Fuck.”

They’re all powered down, but the visual of it is literally staggering.

“How many… how many of you are like him?” Tony asks aloud, as if he’s hoping some of them will answer, will follow him home too. But of course they don’t. And Tony doesn’t have time to check every single one to see if the same deviation is present. He squeezes tighter around Peter’s waist.

“If you’re in there, I’ll come back for you,” he says. “If I figure this out… WHEN I figure this out. I’ll come back.”

He feels like he owes it to Peter to make that promise.

A shout from down the hall makes him snap out of his stupor and he races to the exit. Happy is waiting with the car door open and he practically tosses Peter inside, yelling for Happy to step on it, and they’re gone before security even reaches the back door.

#starker #starker fic #tony x peter #tbpwrites #nff #android au #i would do more in this 'verse just to get in some more wireplay lol

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greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

Text

Another One Bites the (Star)Dust pt2

Hey guys! Welcome to the next part of the newest installment of the Space and Everything In It series! Buckle up; its a fun one!

If you need a refresher, here’s the [previous chapter!]

Summary: Late at night, Virgil has a run in with the ship’s unfavored guest and Remus is rather insistent to turn it into a game of life and death.

Words: 8016

TW: Blood, Non-con drugging, Mentions of murder, forced attempted suicide

Quick Taglist: @alias290 @chelsvans @coyboi300 @dante-reblogs @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @mrbubbajones @musical-nerd18 @nonasficcollection @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws @welovelogansanders

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

“Certainty” wasn’t something that Virgil had in excess of all the way out in Space. There were always so many things he didn’t know, didn’t understand, didn't think to think of. He was constantly having to rework his understanding of planets and governmental structures and alien niceties because he just didn’t know what he was doing. Roman, Patton, and Logan sometimes forgot that he didn’t grow up learning about interplanetary wars and peace treaties and trading policies and it always came as a shock to them when he had to ask what the hell they were talking about. Virgil lived and breathed by trial and error and tried his very hardest not to do the error part.

So certainty was hard to come by these days.

However, he was certain that if Remus didn’t let him go in the next five minsannu Virgil’s lungs were going to implode and his neck was going to snap and he was going to be a very unhappy ghost.

The dust was not grey, Virgil thought, even as he saw the flutters of it flash on the back of his eyelids, imprinted like scars on his brain that just wouldn’t heal over. The dust was not grey and it wasn’t real because there was no dust on Roman’s ship and-- oh god he was going to die and they weren’t going to find his body.

Remus’s tail jerked and Virgil felt where the muscle tightened and the half regrown bone plates rotated in return, like knives all on their own. Virgil was pretty sure that his hands were bloody messes from trying to get between the mass and his throat, trying to loosen it a bit, trying to get air to his lungs and his feet back to the ground and his body somewhere that wasn’t there.

His head felt like it was full of fuzz, full of buzzing and screeching and alarms. Even in the darkness he could make out Remus’s face watching him with deep dark eyes that were twisted paradies of Roman’s, because Virgil had seen Roman’s so often, so much and associated them with the driven determination that bordered on self sacrifice and these weren’t those eyes.

Despite them being the same murky brown, Remus’s eyes different; there was something in them that Virgil’s panicking brain was screaming about, something that made his grin sinister where Roman’s was always charming, something that told Virgil Remus would enjoy watching the light leave his eyes. Something that told Virgil his own dull reflection in those eyes would be the last thing he saw before he passed on.

And Virgil did not come all this way to die because of Remus-- fucking-- Prince.

Really! At this point it would be a fucking insult to die becuase of an Erefren in the middle of space because he was too stupid to just go back to sleep and pretend like he didn’t need to see a space therapist for the traumatic-borderline-stupid nightmares he kept having.

He’d survived the accusation of murdering his best-friend-maybe-more, survived the humiliation of being stripped of everything that he owned by aliens, survived the Welsor Fighting Rings six fucking times, survived the mercanaries, the bounty hunters, the government agents-- everything that had come after him and his family in the past two years. He survived the Pol’turs and he survived getting Janus back.

He survived that, and no one was ever going to know about it because in the end Remus was going to send his lifeless corpse out the airlock because it was that easy to get rid of the evidence when you lived in Space. No wonder the space police went around trying to catch them with illegal merchandise. It wasn’t like they could prove or solve murder--

He gasped for air that couldn’t fit in his fiery lungs, and his eyes felt a bit like they were going to pop right out of his head with the pounding pressure building up from a heartbeat that he couldn’t keep going. His vision blurred, bubbled and popped until all he could see were blobs in the darkness. Unrecognizable blobs. His legs kicked, jerked, swung...fell... and... his... hands…drop...pe...d….

Virgil gasped for air like a drowning man-- or a suffocated one. His lungs burned hotter than any star he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing Logan ramble about. His head swam in the agony, in the stimuli that screamed from so many places that he couldn’t even see what was in front of him. He was faintly aware of his shuddering chest, of his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and the raspy feeling of oxygen tearing through his esophagus like a pair of dull scissors through felt, handled by a second grader who’s fingers weren’t big enough to grip them properly.

His limbs were moving-- or rather being moved, but the moment the thought came to him was the moment he was also pressing his cheek against the cold polyfurnish flooring to alleviate at least one of the alerts in his brain. He thought he was crying, too. Crying over air that he didn’t think had ever been so sweet.

“Deathworlder, huh?” A voice said from over him, and Virgil tried to kick at it, only to find his legs weren’t moving quite right when the action jerked at his wrists and nearly dislodged his arms from their sockets and that was not good. “I used to think you guys were cool as fuck. Then I met one.”

Virgil coughed and curled in on himself, but his arms were trapped behind his back, and his shoulders cried weakly at the movement while his bloody fingers twitched. He shoved his face into the floor again, in a move that he thought probably looked really pitiful-- like if he couldn’t see the blob towering over him with a too-sharp-too-many-teeth grin, then Remus would just stop being there altogether.

Instead Remus’s foot came out and nudged his face. And then he kicked at Virgil’s knees and forced his body to twist until he was mostly facing upwards with his soft insides ready for plucking straight out of his stomach. His chest shuddered again, and his wrists yanked against whatever it was that Remus had bound him up with-- Virgil didn’t recognize the feeling of the material, but he was only used to being bound by polyfurnish chains that could absorb heat from an imploding star itself and metal handcuffs rom when the police wanted to pick him up for questioning for the second time in a week for something like jaywalking and ended up asking what he did to Janus Ekans anyway.

Whatever this was, it felt more like… like… fabric. Roman’s sash, or a T-shirt, but strong enough that there was no give, or knotted enough that Virgil’s stupid monkey brain couldn’t figure out how to undo it before Remus decided how to undo him.

Remus for his part just watched him for a minsannu, quisannu, phisannu-- Long enough that Virgil��s breath didn’t get any stronger and he couldn’t scream for help because of it. Remus crouched at his knees, draping his arms over his kneecaps, watched Virgil’s chest shake with a fascination while his fucking tail wagged in the background. Virgil caught sight of a dark liquid on one of the bone plates when it crossed into the line of red light and his entire body wracked with attempts to put distance between himself and Remus.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Remus said.

“Pl...eas…” Virgil gasped. “Fu..ck…Remus…”

Remus smiled wider, his lips cracking apart his face to show off all three rows of teeth that encircled his mouth and throat, sharpened like daggers. There was a chasm where his face should have been and Virgil tried to shove with his feet again, but they just yanked on his hands and forced his shoulders farther back like some type of back-fucking-bend.

“Roman loved hearing tales about creatures like you,” Remus said casually, like his voice alone wasn’t causing complete terror to crawl up Virgil’s throat and yank out his tongue. “They always made you guys sound like juggernauts. Unkillable beasts. Gods. When Roman was ten revolutions old he said he was going to exterminate all the Deathworlders so that no one else would be scared anymore.”

Remus looked down at Virgil and his eyes were empty abysses larger than black holes and colder than them too.

“Doesn’t look like he did too well on that front,” Remus said. “Guess I oughta help him with that.”

Remus’s hand reached out suddenly-- but Virgil’s brain saw it in slow motion, like Remus was reaching through a bowl of Shishdouble to wrap his claws around Virgil’s throat again. Virgil babbled out something, begging, pleading, and his bruised and sore body writhed against his bonds and the floor in desperate, hopeless movements.

((Virgil never wondered what worms felt like when they were plucked out of the ground and suspended in the air. He wasn’t pleased to know.))

Remus’s fingers were cold-- cold like ice that Janus had once shoved down his back in the middle of the night while they were sneaking food from the kitchen, cold like the metal chair he’d been forced to sit in while police officers and detectives asked him the same questions over and over and over again, cold like the endless expanse of space that surrounded their very tiny ship in the perfect graveyard for souls no one would remember to miss.

Virgil could feel each of Remus’s fingers pressing over his heaving throat. His claws were close to breaking Virgil’s tissue paper skin and his thumb sat right on Virgil’s pulse feeling for the way his hummingbird heart struggled to keep Virgil functioning. Just a squeeze and Virgil would be gone, just a curl of fingers and his blood would be all over the floor, just a twitch and Virgil would never have to think about the difference between grey and blue or what the last thing he said to Janus was.

“But you know,” Remus said. “I’m a pretty generous guy! I’ll give you one chance to convince me not to!”

“Fu..ck…” Virgil managed. “You.”

Remus brought up his other hand, and Virgil reactively squeezed his eyes closed. His heart stuttered, stuttered, stopped in his frantic chest, holding and waiting for the pain from whatever Remus was going to do to him for that; his claws were sharp enough to drag down Virgil’s cheeks, to cut out his tongue, to carve out his eyes--

But in the end all he did was use a finger to lift one of Virgil strands of hair off his sweat drenched forehead.

“That’s not very convincing at all.”

Virgil wanted to hiss at him, something threatening and violent like the Deathworlders of all the tales Remus was thinking of. But his mouth was dry, and all he could see was the last row of teeth in Remus’s mouth. He had never wished so badly that he was bad at math: because surely if he wasn’t able to count every inch between Remus’s pointed teeth and his own throat, then it wouldn’t be happening, right?

“Hmmm,” Remus said, possibly delightedly when Virgil’s voice failed him and his lungs begged for a mercy that Virgil couldn’t provide, because breathing means movement and the dumb rabbit part of his brain kept insisting that if he didn’t move, Remus wouldn’t see him. “Maybe I’ll just leave you here, Cikeriy-tied. Can you squeal, little Cikeriy? Squeal for me?”

Virgil didn’t make a sound, and honestly he wasn’t sure if that was the best move or not: angring Remus when he was already so close to death by not playing along with his sick-as-fuck game verses keeping what little diginity he had managed to retain after the Welsor Fighting Rings. Virgil’s throat tasted like blood coated dust and the bonds around his wrists and ankles dug into his skin the same way the chains at the Rings would, before Logan had come and freed him.

Instead he squeezed his eyes closed, counted to a frantic, unprovable five, and then he lunged straight up with all of his might. Remus didn’t have time to drop him, or move back and Virgil gladly took the blossoming pain in his forehead as payment for at least wiping that smug grin off the alien’s face as he hit the floor again.

Remus cursed in Erefreian, sounding a lot like Virgil’s Spanish Teacher when she saw the results after her quizzes and realized that bar Perfect Janus Ekans, no one was going to be passing her class that year. Remus pulled away and the red dulled light from the hall painted him in an astonishingly terrifying light. Virgil snarled at him the best he could when his heart was pounding in his ears and all he wanted was to scream for help but the words choked in his throat.

((Because if he screams, he thinks someone might come. And that would be a sight to see, wouldn’t it? Patton or Logan or Roman throwing open the door just in time to see Remus slice his throat open and spray his blood all over the Computer console? Virgil could forgive himself for a lot of things, but causing his family to think “if they had only been a little faster” was where he drew every single line every single time.))

Remus’s claws came back from his forehead, shamefully lacking any blood, though there might have been some type of bruising. Not that it would matter much considering the thickness of Erefreian skin; Remus wouldn’t even feel it in a few quisannu and no one else would ever know. He laughed, short, quick, and breathy and Virgil almost thought that he might be surprised.

“Oh,” Remus said and Virgil didn’t know what that meant, and didn’t think he wanted to find out.

He twisted his fingers and grabbed a hold of the knot tying his feet to his arms with the little give that there was. His hamstrings whined at the pull but Virgil only needed a minasunnu to create the 3D model in his head so that he knew where to wriggle and where to pull and where to curl-- like the worst kind of interactive puzzle and if he failed, he was going to die.

No pressure.

Virgil yanked his arms free just as Remus lunged for him again. He rolled and the alien hit the floor heavily where he’d been, with his tail already swinging at where Virgil was going, which was hilarious on some level because not even Virgil knew where he was going, but Remus seemed to predict it anyway. The bone plates on the edge of his tail were sharpened and they carved violent arcs into the wall in front of Virgil forcing him deeper into the room and farther from any sort of help.

He blocked the way to the only exit and Virgil scrambled backwards until he felt the floor vent that circled about two feet from the escape pods under his shoes. His chest heaved, and his vision danced between being hyper focused on every detail about Remus and being blurred so badly Virgil couldn’t have seen his own hand in front of his face. Distantly his fingers were aching with the cuts from the bone plates already, his blood made it hard to concentrate on the here-and-now and not the there-and-then.

((The Dust is not real. The blood is his own. There were no screaming crowds, no beaming sun, no grit under his nails--))

The floor was clear, he was empty handed, and while Virgil’s handprint, however bloody, could probably open the doors to an escape pod behind him, he didn’t think he’d be able to close them before Remus could follow after. Virgil’s head rang from the earlier impact, turning his carefully cultivated plans to fragments in his head with nothing to do. He was cornered in the worst part of the ship, with the worst person to be cornered with.

Remus was grinning again, crouching on the floor like a lion about to pounce, but wanted to have his fun first.

“What’s your plan here?” Remus asked. “Gonna call for help, little Cikeriy? Go on! I’d love to see the look on your face when you realize no one is going to come for you.”

“What… did… you do?” Virgil said between gasps. The chill of the ship cut through his thin sleep shirt, and made his skin feel too small, too little, not enough. Roman had been okay at dinner earlier, he knew-- a little more tired than normal, a little more snappish but he’d been that way since he had taken to keeping Remus away from anything important around the ship all day every day, because he didn’t trust Remus around any of the rest of them. Patton had made ten puns, which was one less than usual but Virgil had thought it was just because Logan had been excitedly telling them about--something fuck, a star? A research paper? Janus had kissed him like a nebula exploding and wished him a good night.

They’d been fine. Virgil had made sure of it. There was nothing that Remus could have--

And yet Remus’s grin etched wider, crueler, violenter. “Do you know the main difference between me and your lovely little Prince of the Stars? Other than the fact that I’m just the sexier twin, of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t know. Roman doesn’t like to talk about the family disappointment.”

Virgil took a step back and Remus took one forward, like a game of tag. His tail swayed behind him looking deceivingly lackadaisical for a murder weapon.

“You see little Crikeriy--” Remus said with his eyes glinting at the nickname. “Erefrens like to fight, and your little Princey over there is the perfect little soldier! A killing machine when he isn’t so concerned about messing up his hair! Those toxins of his? Wowza! They’ve always packed a punch. Even when we were kids!”

Virgil didn’t like how he said punch. He didn’t like the way that Remus talked about Roman. He didn’t like the implication that Roman used those toxins on Remus before. He didn’t like the idea of anyone screaming the way that Orlen thief had back when he’d first seen Roman use it effectively.

He didn’t like the way Remus’s head tilted, like he was remembering the feeling of all his atoms igniting on fire and wanted to see if Virgil could feel that way, too.

“The pack was so proud the first time his toxins came in,” Remus said. “Much less proud when mine came in; after all what is causing immeasurable pain to your enemies compared to simply putting them to fucking sleep?”

Virgil jerked back another step and Remus took a generous one forward.

“It’s not glamorous enough,” Remus said, something slipping into his tone, dark and heavy and bloody. “That’s what they told me, my pack. There’s no honor in killing someone who’s asleep. No honor gained from resisting the pain when there’s no pain at all. It didn’t matter who I could knock out with just a drop of my toxins; I was always going to be nothing compared to Roman. He took my pack from me-- so I told myself I’d take his from him too. And I’d use my toxins to do it.”

“You…put them…?” Virgil dug his nails into his palms, his fingers sticking together in the excess of blood. “When... ?”

Remus laughed, “What, you think that anyone on this ship pays attention to what they’re eating? Roman is so wrapped up in his little fantasy that nothing can go wrong for him that he never notices when I put things in his drinks. Patton and Logan were child’s play. The only hard one was Janus-- ya never know with you Deathworlders what’s gonna work and what’s just gonna make you drowsy.”

“You drugged them,” Virgil said, and fought not to think about Janus on the Pol’tur ship struggling to keep his mind focused and so out of it that he nearly knifed Patton when the Reytin was trying to help him, about Janus’s disbelieving eyes when he saw Virgil there and thought it was more likely he was a figment than real, about Janus clinging to him afterwards when they were back on their own ship and Janus didn’t want to fall asleep lest Virgil disappear before he woke back up. “You-- You--!”

Remus looked immensely pleased with the fact, with his wording, with his anger, which made Virgil’s stomach roll all over again. Remus drugged his friends, his family, Janus. He drugged them and didn’t seem to look in any way sorry about it.

“Why not me?” Virgil choked out around the way his head was ringing, the way his blood was singing, the way that his fingers were curling and imagining the thump of a pulse under his thumbs, preferably Remus’s.

Remus flexed his fingers, his claws clinking together in a way that made the hair on the back of Virgil’s neck stand on end, even more than before. “Weren’t you listening? It’s not very fun talking to someone who’s dead asleep, now is it? Asleep people don’t scream the way awake people do.”

Wasn’t that ironic? Virgil’s heart thundered and he took solace in the idea that at least Remus had never been near him when he slept.

“I’m not going to scream,” Virgil said.

“That’s what they all think,” Remus said back.

“I’m not going to scream,” Virgil said, this time with more confidence than he thought he’d ever had before in his life. Stronger than when he’d told Janus that they were going to be friends regardless of what their parents thought, stronger than when he told the police that Janus was not dead, stronger than when he swore to Logan that he was happy here, with them. He wasn’t certain of a lot in space but he was certain of this.

“I’m not going to scream, and you’re not going to get away with whatever the fuck it is you think you’re doing right now.”

He planted his feet on the ground and squared his trembling fists into something that resembled a fighting stance-- not that it was anything official, not that it was anything good, but it was the stance that he had picked up from the Fighting Rings and if he survived that, he was going to survive Remus Prince with it, too, regardless of what his lungs and throat and brain were telling him.

Remus didn’t say anything for a quisannu. In the ruby light and the surplus of shadows it was hard to make out exactly what expression he was holding in his eyes, but Virgil hated how eerily similar it looked to Roman when he was trying to outsmart Logan with wordplay.

“Boorrringgg,” the Erefren decided suddenly, drawing out the syllables until they grated around Virgil’s brain and didn’t sound like actual Common at all.

“What?”

“You’re boring,” Remus said, flicking his tail. “I’m bored.”

“It’s the worst when he’s bored,” Roman had said once upon a time so long ago when Virgil had first asked what the hell a Remus was and why they seemed to like sending waves of assassins and bounty hunters and pirates after them. “Things tend to get… bloody when he’s bored.”

Virgil whose fingers were pulsing from cuts, who’s throat was aching, who could taste copper in his mouth and see specs of scarlet in the dim hall light whether they were real or not, thought that maybe things were already a little bloody. And if that was what it was like before Remus was bored, Virgil really wasn’t going to like whatever was coming.

“I’m not here for your entertainment,” Virgil spat.

“Aren’t you?” Remus grinned again and Virgil flinched at the sight of it. His head screamed at him to get away, get out, get help. But the exit was blocked and Virgil didn’t want to know what Remus would do to anyone who came running to help him, if they came at all. “I can’t think of another reason to keep a little Deathworlder around, you know. You’re all like dangerous little pets no one else wants to get close to. I was thinking when I go off again, I’m gonna take Janus with me-- he’s pretty funny you know, especially when that Sblorp bit him and he was begging us to get it off him.”

((“It was my fault,” Janus had said in a medical bay on the floor, trusting Virgil’s shaking hands to touch when he had no logical reason to. “I didn’t even see the thing until it was two inches from tearing out my large intestine.”))

And Remus was saying that was funny? That he let that happen? That if Remus hadn’t taken pity and helped get it off of Janus Virgil would have never found him again because he’d be dead on some forgotten planet?

Virgil’s nails dug into his palms, just to keep his brain focused on the present and keep himself from doing something extremely stupid, like lauching himself across the room at the smug Erefren and removing each and every bone from his body as painfully as possible.

“No,” Virgil said.

“No?”

“No!” He said again, “I’m not letting you take Janus.”

Not Janus who still smiled like Virgil hung the stars in the sky, who kissed like he wanted the whole cosmos to know Virgil was his, who had always been the strongest person Virgil had ever known. He didn’t care who Remus thought he was, didn’t care if Janus had been coerced to be part of Remus’s crew before, didn’t care at all. That was Janus and Virgil would not let Remus do anything else to him.

He was certain of that.

“Oh? And what if he wants to go with me?” Remus asked, like there was dimension out there where Janus might say yes anyway, where Janus had lost all his sense of self preservation among the nebulas, where Virgil wasn’t ready to claw through the fabrics of space and time and life and death just to make sure Janus didn’t have to.

Virgil tasted blood in the back of his throat, felt the grit in his teeth, smelled the burning of flesh in the air.

“Why would he ever want to go with you? If this is the shit you pull on him? If you’re going to get him killed just because you’re not being entertained? His life is worth more than that and I won’t let you convince him otherwise.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed: dark and dangerous and Virgil’s chest ached with the need to breathe but he ignored it. Alarms rang in the back of Virgil’s mind, singing out warnings that Virgil himself couldn’t even make out because if he took any of his concentration from Remus for a minsannu, everything around him would implode.

“Oh? Well, what about this, little Cikeriy,” the alien said, speaking deliberately slowly so that Virgil couldn’t misunderstand him even if he wanted to. “Let’s play a game, just you and me. I’ll leave Janus all alone, I’ll leave Roman and Patton and Logan all alone, too! When we touch down on TS-625, I’ll take my lovely bag of tricks that you just found and I’ll disappear completely and none of them will have to see me again! Your perfect little pack here can sleep safely knowing that I’m not going to send anymore mercenaries or bounty hunters or government agents after all of you! Doesn’t that sound nice, Cikeriy? I’ll even swear to the great god Disney to never bother them again-- on one condition.”

Virgil’s heart thudded so loudly in his chest he almost couldn't see. Remus’s smile was sharper than a knife, sharper than any of his bone plates, sharper than anything that Virgil had even felt and it cut right through his flesh like it was made of melted butter.

Remus splayed out his hands and wiggled his claws in the darkness.

“You just turn right around, get into that escape pod, and eject yourself into space.”

His lungs screamed as he became violently aware of the presence of the silent escape pods bearing witness to all this behind him. The pods that weren’t furnished with any provisions, that didn’t have any of his stuff because it was all in a bag that was behind Remus, that Virgil suspected weren’t made for humans at all and wouldn’t be capable of regulating the right amount of oxygen for his body for an extended period of time. The pods that Virgil had practiced piloting on a million times but had always flown right back here within the phisannu, because this was where he belonged. This was home.

Remus wanted him to purposely leave that? He wanted to watch Virgil cast himself into the empty expanse because it would be entertaining somehow? Virgil’s knees felt weak, his stomach offered up hints of the dinner they had all eaten together phisannus ago.

He’d have no food. He’d have no water. He’d barely have oxygen if he went.

And if he didn’t starve out there, or dehydrate, or run out of oxygen, and if the SOS system worked, then he’d be found by someone out there. If they weren’t pirates or smugglers that would sell him without a second thought, they’d be with the Universal Space Police Force and humans were illegal on this side of the universe.

If he did this it would be a suicide trip.

“It should be an easy decision for you, right? You or the others,” Remus said. “You or Janus?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Virgil hissed, and it felt like he was choking again, like Remus’s tail was hoisting in him to the air by his neck, like there was something in his throat that was blocking all the oxygen from making it to his chest. His hands were shaking and there was no hiding that.

Remus stood at his full height, and he looked like he was having the time of his life all of a sudden. The red light made his smile look insane.

And for the first time, Virgil thought that maybe that wasn’t entirely wrong.

Virgil didn’t know what growing up as an Erefren was like-- Roman was staunchy with the details and Logan and Patton were insistent that it was only Roman’s story to tell, despite them knowing it entirely. Virgil had wondered quietly, why someone whose species was supposed to travel in packs--teams-- families-- why Roman was floating out in space as a swashbuckling starlit hero without anyone else of his kind. Virgil had wondered.

He thought maybe he understood now, if Remus was the type to play this kind of sick game with people close to Roman, that Roman had left those people behind on a planet that Remus probably wouldn’t go back to. He understood why Roman had nearly begged them not to uphold the Oath of Brothers that Remus had enacted to get himself saved. He understood now, if it had been someone else with their backs to the escape pods being asked to make a decision like this.

He understood Roman not wanting to talk about Remus when Remus was asking him to choose between the people he loved and himself like the answer was something he had to even think about in the first place.

“Come on, Virgie,” Remus said. “Entertain me a bit. You know not even I will risk going back on an oath to the Great God. Unless, of course, you really don't care about your friends all that much after all.”

“Make the oath first,” Virgil said.

“Open the pod first,” Remus countered, like he was waiting for it. His tail twitched, flicked and danced in the air like a creature all of its own. Remus tilted his head to the side, letting some of his wavy hair fall over his eyes, and once upon a time Virgil might have thought that made him look a bit like Roman.

Instead it made Virgil’s stomach clench and twist and crawl up his throat real slow like it’s own little horror movie. It was deceptive, it was cruel; he didn’t look like someone who would kill anyone and everyone for his own entertainment, who took joy in making Virgil bleed late at night when there was no one but them to see.

He didn’t look like that guy they saved on the Pol’tur ship who could barely keep his eyes open, but demanded that they also save what was left of his crew. Virgil didn’t know where that person went, or if he’d been real at all. But the terror in his chest and the bruises on his neck told him the Erefren in front of him was as authentic as it got.

Virgil took the last step back and his shoulder blades hit the outer door to escape pod Alfie-- Alpha. Virgil vaguely remembered that first time that he and Roman had done their driving practices out there in the middle of an empty quadrant, in the middle of nowhere and nothing. It had been just like Janus and him picking out some empty parking lot at two AM for Janus to go through teaching him how to drive because his own parents couldn’t have been bothered. Patton had affectionately named the little pod Alfie, and gone through the trouble of renaming the pod in the computer system with an alien-like flower emoji to make Virgil smile. Logan had rolled his eyes, but had yet to change it back.

The memory tasted like his own stomach acids now, burning its way up his throat, and making his whole body feel feverish. He thought that if he closed his eyes and took a break from staring at Remus, he’d see Patton and his bug eyes staring up at him with a question on his lips and “Oh kiddo how could you?”

Virgil reached up and crossed his body to slam his palm on the palm reader without giving Remus access to his spine, without trusting Remus enough not to slam his tail into Virgil’s lower back when he was already complying, without letting his eyes close because he wasn’t going to cry after all this.

He survived the fighting rings. He survived Earth. He survived to find Janus again and see that smile that Virgil breathed every breath for. He survived this much.

He’d survive Remus too and he wouldn’t let Remus think otherwise for a quisannu.

The scanner was warm under his palm. For a moment there, Virgil was afraid that it wouldn’t recognize his human shaped hand amidst all the blood. ((He remembered when Logan first dragged him to the room to get his hand put into the system, an induction to the crew, back before Roman trusted him and Patton was still skittish and Virgil’s grasp of Common was barely more than the basics of conversation and necessity. Logan had been blinking lights a million ways, shining like a star all on his own, and it had taken Virgil too long to realize the dancing of his lower arms was because he was excited and happy and thrilled and that Virgil had made him that way. So different from the yesterday morning when Logan’s voice had dripped with an emptiness and “Did we make you unhappy?” ))

The scanner beeped. The doors slid open. Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat like it was a chunk of a meteor and the edges were carving into his esophagus.

Remus didn’t take the step forward to push him into the pod with his aura like Virgil expected. His tail froze motionless in the air beside him, more like a cardboard cut out prop than the weapon that shredded the wall to his right. The alien raised his left hand slowly, in something that looked so normal, so familiar, so human, that Virgil had to swallow the hysteria before it gained a hold on his tongue.

“I, Remus Prince, Denounced of the Prince Pack, Leader of None and Follower of Less,” Remus said, and the air in the room rang with his voice. Virgil willed back the weakness in his knees that threatened to send him to the ground at the rumbling of his tone. “I invoke the Great God Disney, Beholder of Oaths and Judge of Heroes, to witness here and now this vow: I swear to abandon my pledge to destroy all that my brother, Roman Prince, holds dear and resolve not to take human Janus Ekans with me when I leave, should human Virgil Storm press the eject button on the escape pod while inside it.”

Remus turned his palm upwards and tilted his head ever so slightly with a smug expression, nearly hidden in the shadows. “Does that work for you, Cikeriy?”

((“Does that work for you, Virgil?” Roman had said, when Virgil was frantically trying to wash blood off his hands in the bathroom and not crawl out of his skin. Virgil hadn’t been paying attention to anything other than getting the alien fluids off of himself, getting the feeling of a pulse dying under his fingers to fade, getting his breath to stop hitching at every inhale. There were a million other things that Roman should have been doing at the moment: helping Patton from where he was nearly shish kabobed, checking on Logan who they had to forcibly put to sleep because he couldn’t stop screaming at the brightness of the world around them once his visor broke, getting the blood off himself, getting rid of the bodies in the hall… but Roman was here talking to Virgil about everything and nothing and reaching out to turn off the water when Virgil wouldn’t stop scrubbing at his hands. “Listen to me Virgil. You’re okay here. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen.”))

Virgil was shaking so much he wasn’t sure that he actually nodded at Remus’s non-rhetorical question. It felt barbed, it felt cold and vicious of him to ask, and Virgil thought that maybe that was the point of it. Remus’s teeth bared in a parody of something comforting.

It was the same smile that Mayor Ekans had been holding when he had Virgil forcibly ejected from the mansion the first time, the same smile that his teachers had when they gave him yet another detention, the same smile that the police officers gave him when they thought they had caught him in a lie about what had happened to Beloved Perfect Janus Ekans.

There were less than two halls between him and Janus’s bedroom, less two quisannu to get from here to that room where Janus was sleeping unaware of anything that was happening, less than eighteen days that he got to spend with Janus in the grand scheme of things.

It felt like a blink, like a mirage, like a dream that Virgil just woke up from and was feeling the blissfulness dissipate like he’d faced so many times before. The Hope had always been the worst thing about those first eight months: the hope that Janus would appear somewhere unconscious but alive, the hope that Janus would show up to clear his name, the hope that Janus would come back just to fix everything that had gone wrong with Virgil’s life when he was gone.

Virgil, ever the fool, had fallen into the trap that was Hope again and let himself get comfy with the idea that this time he couldn’t lose Janus again.

“Tick Tock,” Remus said.

“You know, Remus,” Virgil spit out, “I feel sorry for you.”

“That’s nice.”

“You clearly never learned what the fuck it was like to care about anyone other than yourself, and I as much as I would like to hate ever fiber of your being, the only thing I can feel is pity that you--”

“Really, these are gonna be your last words?” Remus cut in with an undertone of something far less entertained.

“There are a billion civilizations out there!” Virgil said over him. “And you couldn’t find one person in there that you could care about? You couldn’t let go of such a stupid hatred of your brother-- for a pack that didn’t deserve you-- for a life that you don’t even know if you would have liked! You had all of Space for yourself and you chained yourself up just to get a chance to get back at Roman? How the fuck are you so stupid? Do you know what I would have given to be you?”

Remus wasn’t smiling.

Virgil thought that he was. Grinning full of adrenaline and shaking with rage and wondering if he would ever taste Janus’s lips again because certainty in Space was a fickle thing.

“You had a spaceship. You had a crew. You could have gone anywhere and done anything with your life,” Virgil said. “And yet you chose to constantly come back to Roman. Dumbass.”

Remus made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a grumbling, a rumbling, a growling. Virgil flinched back into the pod, and he could already feel the artificial gravity loosening its hold. It took him another blink to realize that Remus was laughing at him, something darker and more dangerous than before.

He was insane and having fun before. Virgil thought that he might have just taken out the “having fun” and substituted in the “pissed off”.

“You know how long I’ve been thinking about this, Virgil?” Remus asked. “I went over a hundred different ways that I could have done this: I could have had you hang yourself, snapping your own neck. Could have given you the knife and told you to slit your own throat. Could have tossed you a Kochfas and told you to blow your brains out. I thought about making the others watch. And I wanted to see you do it so badly. Do you know what a pain it was to walk around these past disannu and see you with your guard completely down? To think of all the ways I would have killed you myself? I could have slit your throat and laughed as Patton screamed. But you know those rumors about Deathworlds say that you might have gotten up from that and I don’t ever want to see your stupid face again.”

Virgil’s chest heaved. He couldn’t tell if it was the thinner oxygen concentration in the pod, or just the rapid fire words in Remus’s mouth. The words that confirmed a suspicion that Virgil hadn’t realized he’d had this whole time. That this whole thing was too complex, too focused, too targeted.

“Oh? Nothing else to say?” Remus asked. “You were almost entertaining there for a moment.”

“This wasn’t about Roman, was it?” Virgil said. “This was about me. You hate me.”

Remus stuck out his tongue and pressed a claw to it-- some type of motion that Virgil only recognized from the number of times that Roman had done it to Logan’s back after he stated something incredibly obvious and Patton had batted his thigh over.

“Oh, is the little deathworlder getting the hint?” Remus asked. “What tipped you off? The drugging of all your friends or when I told you to eject yourself from the ship?”

“What…” Virgil shivered with his whole body. “Why…?”

“Don’t chicken out now, Virgie,” The alien said. “I’d simply hate to have to go through the trouble of stabbing out each of Patton’s hearts because you got cracked bone plates.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, a fake expression that made Virgil’s stomach twist in on itself. “Or maybe I’ll just start with Janus, and see how much pain a human can actually take.”

“Don’t,” Virgil’s voice comes out as its own growl, sounding damn near inhuman.

Virgil didn’t think about the Pol’turs, didn’t think about Janus on that table knowing that no one is coming for him, didn’t think about the scars on the side of his face that Janus pretended didn’t bother him, but Virgil had caught him pointedly not looking in the mirror so many times-- He didn’t think about it, but his brain screamed at him anyway.

“I don’t know what I did to you,” Virgil said. “But leave him out of this. All of them. Roman included. Look I… I’m sorr--”

The Erefren’s tail struck through the air and before Virgil knew what he was doing he slammed the button on the door lock and forced them shut. He stumbled deeper into the pod, nearly falling to the ground as the sound of Remus’s barbed tail spikes carved into the thick heavy metal separating them. The ship was so cold that Virgil could see his breath in the air, but all he felt was a feverish as he stared through the foggy window at where Remus was standing with an expression that was possibly more murderous than anything Virgil had ever seen before.

Janus’s mother had been vile and sadistic when she thought that Virgil had killed her perfect son, the police had been cold and merciless when they called him a suspect, the people Virgil hadn’t even known had become ruthless and brutal when they glared at him doing anything out in public. His own parents had looked at him with hatred when they realized that the rest of the world would shun them just because Virgil was their son, but even that had been nothing compared to the look in Remus’s dark eyes.

It was bloodlust. And it was directed at Virgil with no regard for anything else.

Remus sneered, almost loud enough for Virgil to hear through both the sets of doors and the static screaming in his ears. His mouth tasted like Dust, his skin prickled with a heat that wasn’t real, his fingers dripped with blood and ached in all the ways that his hands always did after he killed someone with them. He felt like if he took a single step he’d float right off into Space with or without the walls around him

Remus’s mouth moved, words or curses or whatever, but Virgil couldn’t hear them and cared even less.

“I don’t know what I did to you,” Virgil said with his hands shaking over the square red eject button. Last words for only him to know and no one else to ever find out. He thought of Janus asleep in his bed, safe and sound and not knowing anything that was going on. He thought of the feel of Janus’s lips on his, the featherlight touch and sweet honey-eyed look he reserved just for Virgil. He thought of those words he last said to him, “Later Loser, Sleep well” and thought it was ever so poetic that they mirrored those last things that Janus had said to him before he disappeared off the Earth three years ago.

Virgil hoped that Janus wouldn’t take them to heart too much-- not like Virgil had when he agonized over them and wouldn’t believe that Janus had run away without telling him and the rumors had first started their rounds. He hoped that Janus would forgive him for being stupid in the middle of the night. He hoped that Janus would wait for him to find a way back to them.

Out in Space, he wasn’t certain of much, but he was certain that he meant it when he gritted his teeth together, and said, “Remus, I hope you rot in Hell.”

Virgil slammed his bleeding fingers down on the eject button, and at the same moment blinding white light filled the Transport Room from the hall.

He got just enough time to recognize Roman’s unmistakable form stumbling into the room behind Remus, and then the entire pod lurched backwards.

[Part Three]

#Aliens #Space and Everything In It #virgil sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides #anxceit #Remus what the fuck are you doing #Virgil needs a hug. desperately #tw: blood #tw mentions of murder #tw: mentions of forced suicide #Virgil would really do anything for Janus #and thats the core of this tragedy #humans are space orcs #the fluff has died and I'm sorry

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assumingminds19 · 3 years

Text

anastasia's mate

“Anyone can play, right?”

Kara felt like she was going to bounce out of her own skin, finally daring to do this, sitting on her chair and whispering to the white-bearded man next to her. Eagerness vibrated against her ribs alongside her heart. She’d asked the same man she’d seen the dark-haired woman playing the most, watching from far away. But her eyes were on the woman herself, standing back as the row of old men set their boards.

“Of course, moy dorogoy,” he answered through a thick Russian accent, his hands shaking over his pawns. “But be warned, poteryannaya printsessa is playing all quickly today.”

“What-“

Before she could finish, the woman was suddenly in front of her, Kara’s breath and question caught in her throat at finally being so close. But she didn’t even look at Kara, only at her bright, shiny and unused board for a second, before making her move and rotating back down to the end of the line.

Even though she was playing seven of them at once, Kara could barely keep up, losing first, embarrassment twisting in her gut. The rest fell in quick succession, and before she knew it, the men were packing up. The woman had vanished, leaving Kara wondering what’d just happened.

“That’s it?” She asked. “But I-“

“Don’t be upset,” the Russian replied. “She always wins.”

Kara blinked, looking back to her board and the pattern of her loss.

“Does she ever speak?”

“Da,” he laughed. “Sometimes.”

xxx

The next time they played, it was just the two of them. Kara hadn’t been expecting to play her at all. For the past month, the woman had switched only between the Russian and another man with a thick scarf. But today, before Kara had even finished setting up her board, the woman landed in the chair in front of her, waiting silently. Kara’s mouth gaped, her eyes darted towards her new Russian friend, panicked. The man’s lips twitched, and he nodded in encouragement before returning to his own game.

Kara hesitated, waiting for some cue from the other woman, but she was still just watching Kara quietly. Kara rushed to set up the pieces, feeling obligated to give the woman white as thanks for choosing her.

It was the longest game Kara had ever played, all of fifteen minutes. The woman’s moves slow and deliberate enough for her to clue in that she was giving Kara a game without pressure. An unachievable goal, Kara barely able to focus on the pieces, distracted by the lavender smell her nose caught on the wind, wondering if it was the woman’s perfume.

Still, once she’d lost, Kara frowned at the board, trying to understand.

“You shouldn’t have castled.”

It was a lovely voice, smooth, husky and crisp all at once. Wrapped around the consonants and tilting them up in a distinctly un-American way. Kara had trouble believing it was directed at her.

“I’m sorry?”

She winced at the way her voice squeaked, but the woman didn’t seem to notice, just kept watching her with vibrant green eyes.

“In your game.”

Kara’s foggy brain tried to catch up. She looked back at the board, trying to see what the woman was telling her.

“I needed to get the rook out.”

The woman didn’t wait, fingers reaching and darting over the pieces, resetting the play.

“You lost your advantage,” she answered, moving the carved wood. “I played pawn takes pawn, you couldn’t take back. Your problem was your queen knight.”

Kara blinked, still not seeing it. At her non-answer, the other woman let out a soft sigh and stood.

“Think it out.”

She breezed away with the chill wind before Kara could reply, leaving her frustrated and mournful watching her go.

A deep laugh sounded. Kara looked to the old Russian, finished now and shaking the hand of his opponent.

“You are like sobaka chasing its tail.”

Kara scowled, annoyed and began to pack up her own pieces.

“What is with her?” She grumbled.

“Fascinated?” He teased standing, board under his arm. “You’re not the first, even though you are the first she’s shown how they lost.”

Kara scowled, feeling the butt of a joke she had no part of.

“She’s good, so what?”

The man’s bushy eyebrows reached his hairline.

“She’s three times international champion before she was sixteen, devushka,” he answered, making her feel thick for not knowing. “She beat Petrovick in Paris before she was a grandmaster. You’ve been playing with Bog shakhmat, my dear. The Lost Princess, God of Chess. Don’t wonder how you lose, just be glad she picked you.”

xxxxx

Lena Luthor was her real name. From there, Kara spent half a day googling everything she could about her. Chess champion, a child prodigy, winning more competitive games before she was fourteen then most played in their career. Article after article calling her the greatest chess player to ever live. All until her final match at sixteen, the first loss of her career, when she seemed to vanish from the chess scene and the earth. Except she hadn’t. She was here, in National City, playing in the park with old men and Kara.

Kara’s cursor hovered over the video of an old interview, Lena’s young face so sombre and severe for a child of twelve.

“It was the board I noticed first. It’s an entire world of just sixty-four squares. I feel safe in it. I can control it. I can dominate it. And it’s predictable, so if I get hurt, I only have myself to blame.”

“And what do you do for fun?”

“I stay awake as long as I can, reading my books, learning the Sicilian Defence. There are fifty-seven pages about it in the book I’m reading, with one hundred and seventy lines stemming from P to QB4. I’ll memorise them and play through them in my mind.”

“There’s more to life than chess, you know.”

“Is there?”

Kara absorbed the words, her curiosity ferocious before she closed her laptop screen and picked up the second-hand, dog eared book on chess openings she had bought, settling back on her couch to reread it again.

xxxxx

The third time they played, Kara was the one to choose Lena, marching right up and sitting across from her before Lena had the chance to choose anyone else. It sent a mutter through the crowd of old men, but Lena took it in her stride, a ghost of a smile on her lips and didn’t say a word as Kara set up the board, this time choosing white.

Kara made her first move deliberately, watching Lena’s face as she did, daring her with it. Lena’s eyes raked the board, then Kara’s face in turn, sparkling before she made her answering move.

It was long and complicated, and Kara spent more time hung up on moves that should have been simple when Lena countered with something that sent her in a whole new direction. By the time the game had stretched into an hour, none of the men were playing anymore. Instead, they gathered in a small crowd around them, watching quietly as their match ebbed and flowed.

Once, Kara was convinced she was going to lose, seeing Lena’s path to victory in three more moves when suddenly, Lena did something completely unexpected. Sacrificing her queen and leaving her king exposed. At first, Kara thought she had missed something herself, wondering if she had tripped into a mistake. But the more she looked, the worse it all became for Lena. It caught Kara off-guard. It would be a brutal play. It would be the kind of thing Lena did to other people, and for a minute Kara wondered if she should do it at all. But something was pushing her in the back of her mind—an urge for this to be more than a pastime. More then a compulsion or an addiction, and Kara wondered when this had become less about knowing Lena and more about knowing herself. It was a demand, an obsession—a thirst for something more.

Kara made the play, her fingers unable to let go of her piece as she watched, recalculated and watched again before she let it go. Kara saw it in Lena’s eyes then, a softness. An acceptance. And then, Lena was holding out her hand for Kara to take, her king in her palm.

“It’s your game,” she whispered. “Take it.”

Kara did, her skin tingling where their hands touched, a part of her was too dumbfounded to realise that the roaring in her ears was the sound of applause from the crowd around them. Lena dropped their joined hands with a smile and melted back through the group. Kara tried to follow as the men held her back, offering their congratulations. In an undoubtedly rude move, she ignored and pushed past them, head twisting around, scanning the people in the park, finally spotting Lena’s back as she walked away.

Kara ran after her, calling out.

“Hey, wait!”

Lena stopped, turned around, an eyebrow arched when Kara slid to a stop in front of her. Without the barrier of chess between them, Kara found herself at a loss for words, caught in Lena’s green eyes.

“I… uhhh… hello.”

It was all she could dumbly manage.

“Hello.”

There was a long pause, too long beyond comfortable, before the only thought Kara could think spilled from her lips.

“Did you let me win?”

“No.”

Kara hesitated, the insecurity mixed with the flush of victory banished at Lena’s quick answer. Somehow knowing without knowing that Lena wasn’t a person who’d lie.

“But you did before,” Kara continued instead, pressing, searching for something to hold onto. “Your game… when you were sixteen.”

Lena looked out and away from her for a beat.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, looking back.

Kara’s mouth worked silently, tasting the answer on her tongue.

“Why?”

Lena took another pause before she replied.

“When winning takes everything, what are you left with?”

Kara shouldn’t know what she meant. How could she possibly? But part of her felt it in her bones anyway.

“Chess isn’t always competitive though,” Kara whispered. “It can also be-“

“Beautiful.”

The bare branches of the park dusted light through their snow-covered boughs. They haloed them perfectly, Kara thought, capturing this moment, frozen eternal.

“Why did I win?” She needed to know, not fully understanding herself. “You’ve been playing all your life, I’ve only been playing for three months.”

Lena didn’t seem to think her question stupid, or ridiculous, or any of the things Kara feared it was. She just stepped forward, an inch, but enough to make a point, her eyes darkening to a deeper green.

“Because I was only playing chess, darling,” the final word rippled down Kara’s spine. “You spent three months learning to play chess with me. You’re very good. Raw, unpredictable… when you’re not overthinking. You made a marvellous recovery today.”

Kara knew. She’d almost opened herself up to check in five moves. But the fact that Lena knew that Kara knew and fixed it made her preen, a blush filling her cheeks.

“Thank you. I… I’ve been watching you, for a while on my lunch break,” she admitted. “You were always here, the only colour in a sea of silver.”

“You were fascinated by it.”

“Not it,” Kara quickened. “You.”

Lena’s head tilted, and not for the first time, Kara hungered to know what exactly was going on under that pale and beautiful mask.

“What’s your name?” Lena asked, voice soft, welcoming and unexpected.

“Kara. Kara Danvers.”

“Would you like to go out to dinner?”

“Like a date?” Kara blinked, wondering if she’d misheard.

“Yes,” Lena smiled.

“Ye.. yeah!” Kara stumbled, unable to reign in her enthusiasm. “Umm, tonight?”

“I have a standing engagement.” Before Kara could feel disappointed, Lena countered. “Tomorrow?”

Kara nodded, head bobbing like she was on the dashboard of a car.

“Ok.”

One second. Then two.

“Your number?”

“Oh, yeah…” Kara blushed again. “Here, I’ll um… put it into your… yep.”

She typed it dutifully into Lena’s outstretched phone, sending herself a text to make sure, before handing it back.

“Tomorrow then,” Lena answered, phone safely back in her pocket. “Kara Danvers.”

She leaned forward, brushing her warm lips against Kara’s cheek, her hand giving Kara’s arm a small squeeze through the fabric of her winter coat. Then she was floating away once more, Kara staring after her.

“Wow.”

That night Kara dreamt of rooks and castles and lost princesses, found again.

#supercorp #supercorp fic #kara danvers #lena luthor #chess #the queen's gambit inspired #supergirl

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

feel free not to take this but it is still technically march so. vampire sternclay nsfw, a hungry submissive vampire being so, so good in the hope that their human will let them have a taste?

Here it is! I guess it’s april now but eh, on this blog it’s always monster time.

Content Notes: Mentions of blood, since we’re dealing with vampires. The roleplay in this could read as dubcon, since Stern has something Barclay needs, but aftercare is shown and even in the scene it’s clear Barclay feels safe and happy.

“I thought we could act out that, um, request you had for me tomorrow night”

“The one where you let me…”

“Yes, big guy, that one.”

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

Barclay waits in Mt. Sterns study, clock on the mantle reading three minutes to six. Lamps are being lit up and down the street as the citizens of London flock out into the first warm night of the year. Barclay will not be joining them; Mr.Stern has other plans for him, and the crosses over the windows and doors to the street ensure Barclay doesn’t go anywhere without his permission.

It could be worse. Much worse.

Mr. Stern frequents the gentleman's club where Barclay is (was) a cook, is polite and charming when he discusses the latest evidence of monsters in the Himalayas or the depths of the sea. He’s American, like Barclay, which meant someone appreciated the pies he made for dessert. Every visit, he stopped by the kitchen to compliment Barclays food, insisting was the best in the city.

So imagine Barclays’ horror when, half-starved and foggy-brained, the man he pounced on in an alley turned out to be none other than Joseph Stern. The fear intensified when the human easily overpowered and pinned him, revealing that he was an agent of the crown, a member of the Royal Order of Vampire Hunters.

“I can’t let you free, not in good conscience given you attacked me and could attack someone else. But I don’t want to hurt you, Barclay.”

The agents solution was to bring the vampire home with him, lock him in the safety of the cellar (so he wouldn’t get burnt), and use him as a subject for his research. Mr. Stern prides himself on being the preeminent scholar on the subject of vampirism (“Dr. Helsing’s research is sorely lacking, but everyone goes to him because of the Harker Affair”), and couldn’t pass up the chance to make use of his live-in vampire. Generally, he peppers Barclay with questions or submits him to minor medical tests, always giving him a glass of blood to drink while they work. That glass is conspicuously absent tonight, as was the note Mr. Stern usually leaves him detailing what to expect.

Barclay bounces his knee as his stomach growls; they ran out of blood last night and a new supply has yet to arrive. Then the door opens, and he perks up like a bloodhound offered a bone.

“Hello, Barclay, thank you for being so prompt.” Mr.Stern is in his full suit, hair styled as if he just returned from the office.

“Of course, sir. I, uh, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He smiles, licks his lips as the human removes his jacket, revealing more of his throat in the process.

“You like being my research assistant?”

“Very much sir.”

Mr. Stern rolls up his shirtsleeves, “I think you’ll like tonight's experiment quite a bit. On the desk.” He pats the strangely empty hardwood and Barclay sits on the edge, tall enough that his feet still touch the floor. The human opens his dictograph, stops before turning it on, “lie down.”

Barclay does as he’s told, jolts in confusion as Stern pulls three leafs of wood from the desk; one on either side of Barclay and one at his feet, meaning that his whole body is on the table with a few inches of room to spare on all sides.

“This isn’t your normal desk, is it sir?”

“No, I had it made just for us.” The dictograph clicks on, “April 14th, experiment twenty-nine; determining the relationship between sexual arousal and bloodlust in vampires.”

“Wait, what?” Barclay bolts upright, starts climbing off the desk only for Stern to firmly cup his cheek.

“Barclay, you want to be a good specimen, don’t you?” Something sharp and wicked as a scalpel glints behind the clinical curiosity in his blue eyes.

“Yes, sir.” He does, he really does, but he’s so hungry. Hungry and terrified that whatever Stern is planning will cause Barclay to admit the feelings he has to keep reburying in his chest thanks to their reemerging whenever Stern smiles at him.

“Then do as you’re told.” He takes his hand away, Barclay mourning the loss of contact as the reclines back onto the desk.

“Much better.” Stern walks around the desk, patting Barclay’s head along the way, “If you’re good tonight, I’ll give you a special reward. One you’ve never had before.”

Barclay resolves to be better than he’s ever been. Stern's rewards are well planned and generous, leaving Barclay positively spoiled when he’s done. He buys him the expensive draught that lets vampires consume non-blood foods without illness, then takes him to dinner. Brings him rare teas and books to read while he sips them. When he learned Barclay liked theater and opera, evenings out in finery became part of the rotation. He can’t imagine what the extra special reward will be, but he hopes it involves more of Sterns gentle touches on his skin.

“I’m starting the experiment now. To establish our baseline, how aroused are you?”

“Like, a little?”

“Are you craving blood?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry, but not like, crazed or anything.”

“Good. I’ll keep checking in with the subject throughout the process.” He pulls a notebook from his shelf, and Barclay can see a checklist running down the page, “I’ll start by relaxing the subject.”

The detached manner in which Stern refers to him should aggravate him; instead, his cock twitches in his pants and he squirms, hoping the human will say it again.

Stern rolls Barclays pants up to his knees, picks up his right foot and kneads his thumb along the arch. He finds all the sore spots with ease (almost as if he’s done this before), Barclay moaning softly as he works his way up one leg and then other. The vampire is so relaxed by the end he almost misses Stern guiding his wrists into the cuffs on either side of him.

“Sir?”

“It’s for your safety and mine; you may get agitated later on, and I don’t want you injuring yourself. Arousal level?”

“About the same.”

Stern raises his eyebrow.

“Uh, I mean, about the same, sir.”

“Hunger?”

“The same, sir.”

The agent turns back to the dictaphone, “Subject is now restrained. Proceeding to step twoOW, shit.” He sets the notebook down and shoves his right pointer finger into his mouth.

It’s only a small paper-cut, bleeding a bead of red when he pulls it out to examine it. To Barclay, it’s like someone cracked open a fine wine and is taking their sweet time pouring.

Stern notices his interest immediately, “Is this what you want, Barclay? To taste me?”

He whines, nodding his head. Stern’s hand hovers over his face; he could reach it with his tongue, but if he takes it without permission the human will no doubt revoke his reward.

The cut finger strokes his neck, leaving a faint trail of red that he can smell but neither see nor reach.

“Then I guess it’s convenient that’s your reward for tonight.”

“Ohfuckyes, sir, thank you sir.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we’re only through step one. Where was I” he flips to the same page in his notes, “Oh, right. Addition of even a faint trace of blood lead to increased arousal in the subject. Testing the reverse pathway now.”

“Ohhhhhhfuck” Barclay bucks his hips as Joseph palms his cock through his pants. The warmth and pressure are enough to tease, to coax his cock up, but too little for him to do anything but rut like a needy dog on his hand.

“It looks like stronger stimulation is required.”

“AHahgodOWfuck” tears prick his eyes and he wishes, not for the first time, that he’d been less prone to taking the lords name in vain when he was human. The habit is hard to break and the word burns his tongue whenever it’s uttered.

Sterns eyes flick up to his face just long enough for him to see Barclay isn’t hurt, then they return to his cock. His hand moves in calculated, steady strokes, his voice calm even as Barclays grunts of pleasure fill the room.

“Good boy, Barclay. Let’s see what happens if I…”

“Fuck, ohfucksir.” He jerks his hips as Stern quickens his hand, pre-cum slicking the shaft.

“Subjects fangs are emerging, salivary glands seem more active, eyes-Barclay, be quiet, you’re going to drown out my notes.”

This statement does not have the desired effect, as the thought of the device picking up his moans, of Stern playing them back with a clinical ear or fucking himself to them or letting other hunters listen to just what a vampire will do in order to feed, makes him moan louder.

Stern stops entirely, his tone a warning, “Barclay.”

“S-sorry sir, it, it just, it feels so good, wanted you to, to know I like it. It’s, it’s an honor to feel your hands on me.”

“That’s very sweet. So sweet that I’ll make you a deal; if you can be quiet until after you cum, you can make as much noise as you want afterwards. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” He clamps his jaw shut, fangs pricking the inside of his mouth. Stern works his cock relentlessly, smiling as Barclay’s legs begin jerking and twitching with his impending orgasm.

“That’s much better.”

Barclay smiles, proud, swallows down a moan, and cums all over Sterns waistcoat.

“Messy boy.” Stern wipes himself off, then covers Barclay’s mouth with a cum-streaked hand, “clean it up.”

He obeys, ambivalent to the bitterness of his own spend and elated by the taste of Sterns skin on his tongue. When he’s done the human ruffles his hair with his other hand, smiling down at him.

“I’ll be right back.” Stern leaves his view and Barclay only just keeps himself from whining at his absence. The agent returns with a case which, when opened, reveals a vibrator.

“I’m not hysterical, sir.”

“Not yet.” Rather than hold it himself, Stern straps the device so it rests against Barclays cock and switches it on.

“AHFUCK, sir, it’s, how many times-” His cock, which was soft only a moment ago, perks back up even as the nerves in it scream for it to stop.

“As many as it takes to complete my study. Let’s see.” The human turns Barclays face this way and that, frowns, and digs his finger and thumb into his jaw to keep his mouth open as he moans, “subjects fangs are now fully out and he” Stern snickers as Barclay’s beard tickles his wrists, the vampire licking and nuzzling at his inner arm, “he’s increasingly submissive and blood focused.”

“N-no, I’m you focused sir, want you, be so good for youAHannn” he cums, cuffs clanking on the table as he arches off it. Stern drags a chair over, sitting near Barclay’s head and leaning with his elbows on the desk to watch as his cock continues leaking and shuddering under the onslaught of sensations.

Barclay recalls a myth, Greek he thinks, where a man is punished in the afterlife with intense hunger and thirst. He doesn’t remember why it happens, he tends to skim tragic stories. The part that stuck with him was the man being trapped with food and water just out of reach. With Joseph so close and Barclay so aroused and hungry, he can see the veins in his neck, can almost crane his neck to reach them.

Then he cums a third time and his vision whites out, taking away the temptation for a few moments of mercy. His brain gives up on coherent thoughts after that, and all he can do is moan and sob as Stern forces two more orgasms out of him. His feet and legs go from kicking and thrashing to laying so limp he’s not sure he’ll be able to walk when they’re through.

“I think I have what you need.” Stern shuts off the vibrator, removing bringing a water basin and pitcher over to the vampire. He dips a handkerchief into the warm water, guiding it along Barclays forehead, “you’re doing well, Barclay. I’m so proud.”

“Thank you sir.

“I have one more test to run, okay?” His voice is so gentle, his touch so soothing, and Barclay would do anything for him like this, all he wants is to serve him, to make him happy so he’ll keep looking at him like he’s something precious instead of dangerous.

The agent checks the dictaphone, clears his throat, “Final test: role of discomfort in the arousal-bloodlust dynamic.”

Barclay swallows, so turned on he couldn’t be scared if he tried. The agent pulls a loose page from the notebook, mischief in his eyes and menace on his fingertips. Only Stern could make the snap of a freshly inked piece of paper erotic, and Barclay adores him for it.

“I will now have the subject read a passage and record my observations.”

Letters fill his view and it takes his eyes a second to focus on them. His tongue, likely out of self-preservation, fights to stay behind his teeth.

“We don’t have all night, Barclay.”

The vampire takes a deep breath, “O God, accept me in penitence. O God, l- leave me not. O Lord, lead me not into temptation” his tongue flinches even as his chest burns with pleasure “O God, grant me good thoughts. O God, grant me humility and obedience.”

“I’d say you’re doing well on that front already,” Stern murmurs, saying more clearly, “the subject responds positively to pain associated with holy words, and looks increasingly thirsty.” He gives Barclay a pointed look, “subject should continue if he wants his reward.”

“O Lord, grant me patience, courage and meekness. O God, grant me to love Thee with all my mind and soul.” Tears run down his cheeks; the pain is right on the edge of what he can take, and even in his submissive haze he’s certain this alone is deserving of a reward, “Sir, please, please, I’ve been so good, please say you’re satisfied so I can, I can-”

Stern sets the paper aside, “can what? Specificity is important, Barclay.”

A dozen types of hunger well up in his throat as he whimpers, “please say I can taste you.”

An indulgent smile, “Of course. Give me a second to prepare.”

The vampire closes his eyes, breathes as slowly as he can manage as his tongue ceases tingling. There’s a scuff and thud of Stern touching the desk, and Barclay assumes he’s being freed until warmth straddles his chest and a shadow blocks the lamplight from his face.

“Ohfuck.” He opens his eyes, finds Stern--naked from the waist down--bracketing his ears with his knees.

“Is this the taste you wanted?” Stern guides his head up and Barclay eagerly kisses his cock.

“N-no I wanted to feed but, but this is so, so perfect sir.”

“You think you deserve to feed from me?”

Barclay nods, too busy teasing his tongue along his folds to respond further. The hunter is wet, and the thought of him soaking his tailored trousers just by watching Barclay cum is almost as heady as the scent of the blood beneath his skin.

“Well, I think this is what you deserve, for being so careless as to attack me, and for having to rely on my hospitality to survive.”

“Uhhummm” Barclay closes his lips around his cock and Stern moans, a sound Barclay would gladly swallow holy water to hear again.

“Nnn, oh lord, that’s it, you’re doing so well big guy.”

He purrs at the praise, mouth watering as Stern’s body sends more blood south. The skins so sensitive here, so thin, he can practically taste iron through it. He grazes his teeth along Sterns thigh, hoping for the smallest of scrapes, yelps when the agent pulls his hair hard enough to slam his head back against the desk.

“If you bite without permission, I will leave you here, like this, with that vibrator strapped to your cock, until the morning.”

Barclay whimpers, licks plaintively at his cock to show he’s sorry. Stern’s voice softens, “That’s better. I know it’s hard to restrain yourself, but you--oh lord--you must. I hate having to discipline you my sweet boy, I’d much, much rather-” his hips gain speed, smearing slick across Barclays mouth, “fuck, I’d rather spoil you and then do whatever I want to this perfect body, oh, ohlord, ohyes.” He tenses, gasping, and Barclay wishes his hands were free so he could hold him, keep him safe and steady while he takes his pleasure.

The hunter eases off of him, undoes the cuffs and helps him upright. They move on equally shaky legs to the settee, the human undoing the top buttons of his shirt once they do.

“Barclay…”

“Yes, sir?” He grips the edge of the cushions to keep from pinning the agent to their deep blue surface.

“You can have your reward now.” Stern tips his head sideways, revealing a welcoming patch of throat. Barclay growls, lunges forward as Stern makes no attempt to stop him. His teeth pierce willing skin and hot, sinfully delicious blood flows across his tongue. Stern goes rigid in his arms, voice cracking in a moan. Then he relaxes, clinging to Barclays shoulders as the vampire pushes him down, licking and sucking and smearing crimson kisses across his neck.

Nothing in the world compares to fresh blood, freely offered, swallowed down while the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lets out softer and softer moans of ecstasy.

Two taps register on his shoulder and he pulls away, lapping at the wounds so they’ll stop bleeding and be protected from infection. Joseph groans, gingerly shaking his head to clear it.

“You feeling okay, big guy?”

“Y’know how pythons will eat a cow once a month and then sleep for days? That sounds really fucking good right about now.” Barclay knows some vampires feel energized after feeding, but for him it’s always followed by the need for a nap.

“Let’s go upstairs first, the bed is better than the couch for that. Last time I fell asleep here my back hurt the whole next day.”

“Someone feeling being in his thirties?”

“Barclay, you’re three hundred.”

“And I don’t feel a day over two hundred and fifty.” He smiles as Joseph chuckles and kisses his cheek.

They make it up the stairs, Barclay easing his way under the covers and trying not to let them touch his sore cock. Joseph brings two water glasses and a damp cloth. Barclay uses the latter to clean the last traces of blood from his skin, patching over the punctures with the bandages they keep in the bedside table.

“Fun as it is to pretend to be your, like, pet vampire, I really glad you decided you just needed a roommate after I was stupid enough to attack you.”

Joseph polishes off his water, “You were starving, not stupid. Most vampires who go after humans are. It did put a damper on my plans to proposition you in the club kitchen the next night, but it worked out in the end.”

“They did warn me the clientele might try to bribe me into earning a few extra pounds with uh, ‘special services.’”

“A few pounds is barely a fair price for a kiss from you.” The human kisses him, somehow more sincere and loving than the equally tender kiss he gave him before leaving for work. Then he rubs his leg through the blankets, “do you want some tea? Indrid dropped off a new one he found while traveling with Duck, and it smells amazing.”

“Sounds great, blue eyes.”

“I’ll go make a pot of it while you rest; you did so well tonight I’m inclined to spoil all weekend.”

“No complaints here. You take such good care of me, Joseph.”

“You deserve it, big guy. Don’t go anywhere.” He kisses his brow and leaves the bed, whirling on his dressing gown as he goes towards the stairs.

Barclay watches him with all the love his unbeaten heart can muster and murmurs, “I won’t. Not when everything I need is right here.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #vampire au #victorian au #reader requests #TAZ amnesty

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