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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 2 years

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I really enjoyed seeing your style advance in your most recent post on here! Short little request (only if you want to!) Angsty Break up/make-up with punk! (Or Desolation Row) Gerard based on the "you see me in hindsight" part of Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams?

Title: Wildest Dreams A/N: UGH I LOVED THIS REQUEST. I literally wrote this entire thing in a day, I just got down to it. I've also been meaning to write something more angsty recently, but was never able to figure out what I should write about, so this was PERFECT. Pairing: Punk/Desolation Row!Gerard x F!REader Word count: 4,910 words Warnings: LOTS of angst, fighting (both physical and verbal), swearing, all the good angsty, breakup stuff.

If there was more than one way to say “fuck you” you would’ve screamed every single one at him by now.

You had devoted so much of yourself to him. You paid for the two of you to live in a basic 800 square foot apartment in a crappy neighborhood because his stupid band could never actually get a grip on any decent money. Scratch that- they couldn’t get any money at all.

On top of the thousands of dollars you had clearly wasted supporting the dream of a man who was nothing short of a douche bag, you had become attached to him in such an insufferable manner. You loved him, absolutely loved him. And he said he had loved you too, many times actually. You reflected on the times when he seemed to have meant it, when that hazel color in his eyes seemed to mix with your own so well as you stared at each other, or when his hand gave yours one of those little squeezes as he said it. Or right after he would gently kiss you, which was relatively rare. Most of the time it was somewhat aggressive and harsh.

You weren’t really sure how it all happened. It was a mutual decision as you screamed at the top of your lungs a fired up, “Get the fuck out of my house” and he screamed right back, “I was already planning on it”. And now it had been a week.

No calls, no texts, no nothing. It wasn’t like you had tried, all of your friends had reminded you that he would’ve reached out by now if he actually wanted to apologize or mature up a bit. Something that you scoffed at, because Gerard could never mature. Not even in your wildest dreams.

Gerard was now in his brother’s basement, laying on the couch as some random music played in the background. He took his current cigarette out of his mouth, letting the smoke linger above his head as he exhaled, staring up at the slightly stained ceiling.

Break ups had never been hard. At first, he figured this one wouldn’t be either. He started off the day after finding himself with another girl in the back of his car, but midway through his desperate attempt to get any feeling all he could see on her face was you. He had to shake his head a bit and get a grip, which didn’t work because all he heard was your voice beginning for more, not the other girls.

Day two he got seduced by a girl at a bar. She was pretty, average height, blonde, skinny, his average hookup. But as her hands roamed his body they felt like a strangers. He remembered how you always knew where he was most sensitive, his favorite move of yours being how your delicate fingers danced along the skin on the back of his neck while his hands gripped on your waist. You would always be quick to whisper another “I love you”, just loud enough where he could hear it but the sound would never dare to depart the invisible bubble the two of you had created.

He always knew you meant it to. Your eyes lit up a bit, I miss her eyes. He thought. And he always meant it to, he just wasn’t great at showing that. Or love in general.

Day three he got drunk. Something that was stupid and he hadn’t done much since the two of you had gotten together. You scolded him like a mother when he drank too much, and even in his deeply drunken state he always remembered you trying to carry him back home and making sure he got to bed safe. Then waking up to find pain killers and water.

Day four he played with his band again. It was miserable, but somehow that only fueled the crowd. He let his anger and despair loose like a wild animal, and for a brief moment up there with the shining lights beaming down on his skin he felt like one. Like a wild animal lashing out on whatever it could.

Day five he got into a fight. Kind of by accident, but long story short the guy was just a dick. He chuckled to himself as he pondered on that self-reflection, because he was a dick too. The guy was just more of a dick than him. That’s how he ended up with a bruising black eye and busted lip. A few light scratched painted his face and played as accents as well, but he always had some form of a scratch somewhere.

He remembered the first time he had ever gotten into a fight with you there, and you drug him like a dog catcher with a new find away, scolding him, again, like the great mother he had always imagined you being some day. You were mumbling all the way home, calling him stupid and asking what made him do such a thing, and he just shrugged it off. Then you had him sit on the bed as you fixed him up as best you could, and scolded him even more when he let out any sign of pain, reminding him that “you got your ass into this”.

Day six he stayed inside all day. Mikey asked him if he wanted to go out with any of his friends and he silently shook his head. He laid on the couch all day in his own thoughts, something that deeply scared him. You just wouldn’t leave his mind. Every other girl he had ever dated had just erased themselves in two to five business days. But you stayed put on the forefront of his mind.

But of course you did. You were a no shit woman and stubborn as hell. That’s what made him love you so much. You were never scared of him, not that he ever wanted you to be, because both of you knew you could do better than him. But opposites always attract, so of course the fucked up punk with a low life band got a kick ass girlfriend with a real job and real friends and a life that was together. Maybe that’s why the relationship would never have worked out.

And then came day seven. The day he cried. He never really cried, it wasn’t something he ever did. He remembered you crying, a lot. You were strong but incredibly emotional, to a borderline envious point. You cried over friends who were struggling, over stress, over those stupid PETA commercials that show skinny and shaking dogs looking up at the camera with big puppy dogs eyes.

And shit those puppy dog eyes you put on when you wanted something. He would fall to his knees practically if you put them on, hell, even kill a man if you asked. You were just-

You were obnoxiously perfect.

He’s pretty sure he was at least on pack three by now when Mikey came in. “Okay, get the fuck up, we’re not doing this anymore.” Gerard turned his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Oh don’t play dumb. You’ve never once gotten upset over a break up. So you have one of two options: one, fuck as many girls as it takes until you’re over Y/N, or two, put your pride back up your ass and go to apologize.” “How about neither?” Gerard asked.

“Nope.” Mikey stated matter-of-factly. “Listen, as respectfully as I can put this, you’re an asshole. And you were a dick to Y/N most of the time, which was so unfair to her because of how sweet she is-” “Like the fucking sun in a person.” Gerard commented.

“Exactly! And she somehow ended up with you.” Gerard growled a bit.

“Don’t remind me.” He sighed.

“I’m pretty sure she’s on your mind 24/7.” Mikey looked at him still with a tight knit face, “So get your shit together, and go confess your love to her like some fucking Romeo and Juliet shit and then stop acting like a dick to her. Maybe you won’t be a dick to the rest of us too.”

Gerard didn’t respond for a second, “You know how Romeo and Juliet ends, right?” Mikey scoffed, turning around for a moment before absolutely blowing on his older brother to collect himself.

“Fine, I’ll give you a day to think this over. But you’ve now had a week, and I bet you my entire fucking savings account that Y/N is probably just as distraught as you if not more. So you gotta figure this shit out, Gee. Clean up your own mess for once.”

“So, what’s the plan? Glitter on his shit, really sexy pictures of you on Instagram-” “No.” You stated, your best friend, Bee, standing over you as you sulked into your bed more. His side still smelled like him despite washing the sheets at least a half dozen times this week. “Just sulk over him. I hate him.” “I know, I do too.” She admitted, sitting next to you and placing a hand on your leg. “Which is why we need to find you another man. And one who’s not a complete pain in the ass man child.” You grumbled.

“Yeah but I-” Your voice cracked a bit as you grabbed onto your pillow and hugged it more, “I loved him.” And you broke down into a sobbing fit again.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Bee sighed, running her fingers through your hair to soothe you. “You’re crying over a man who pushed every single button he knew you had and then left like it was nothing. He knew what he said, all that hurtful shit.” “Yeah, but I said some hurtful shit back.” You sniffled.

“Not to the extent that he hurt you.” She sighed, “Y/N, you gotta get over him. I love you, seriously, and that’s why I’m telling you that you could have literally any man in this entire city falling on his knees and begging for you.” “Yeah, but I don’t want them.” You replied.

“Do you want Gerard?” You shrugged.

“Not right now, no.”

“Then c’mon girl. Let’s get that skimpy little red dress that’s barely legal to wear out and get drunk!” She smiled at you and you huffed. “And no, you don’t have a choice.”

You had never felt more uncomfortable in your life.

Physically, this dress was straining. Sure, it hugged your curves in all the right way, and yes, you looked very hot, but you really craved a hoodie and sweatpants at the moment. And those high heels- you wanted to chuck them into the street.

You stood in line for this stupid club your friends raved about, they were all talking about something as you leaned up against the brick wall and zoned off a bit. It would be really nice if Gerard was here.

He loved this dress, always. He said he loved how you finally got confidence in yourself to wear it out, and despite the fact he trusted you, or at least to your best knowledge he did, he was one protective borderline jealous motherfucker. The way he would take you in backrooms and bathrooms, in the car sometimes if a guy even looked at you just the wrong way. Or when he would grip your waist so tight you almost felt your circulation come off.

“You cannot be thinking about him right now!” One of you friends, Rachel, broke you from your trance.

“Hm?” You asked looking at her.

“Seriously! There are, like, at least 50 guys in there who would practically die to get a taste of your ass! And you’re still dreaming about stupid fucking Gerard. What good did he ever even do for you?” “Oh shut the fuck up!” You fired right back, every single girl in the little circle suddenly looked shocked and paralyzed. “I know he wasn’t the best, most picturesque boyfriend, and he was shitty sometimes, of course, but at least I could die tonight and know that he genuinely cared and loved me.” “Get over yourself!” Rachel fought right back. “You’ve clearly lost your fucking mind if you are going to defend a man like him. Not even a man- a boy most of the time!”

You had no idea where this sudden flame of fire and fury came from within you but you had no control. For the first time, as your teeth seethed together and your fists grew into a ball, you understood that this was maybe how Gerard felt- all of the time.

“And who the fuck are you to give me relationship advice when the last guy you dated was a good for nothing blonde hair blue eyes type with two side chicks?”

Had you gone too far? Probably. Did you regret it? As soon as you felt her hand grab your hair, yes.

Okay, so you were in a fight. And over a man, apparently. Y/N, how the fuck did you get yourself here? You thought as she dragged you towards her. But as soon as you made eye contact, despite being below her with her hand run through your hair, you swung her right in the nose.

She fell back a bit, letting go of your hair but swiftly punched you right back, again, in the nose. You remained standing but gasped a bit, covering your nose as you saw nothing but red. At this point, you didn’t even have to take your eyes off the target to know that everyone was looking at you. You got one final swing in, right on her cheek before two security guards came up and pulled you apart, your friends too scared to get involved.

It took you a few seconds of snarling and regaining your breath, your face still contorted in anger and determination, before you actually looked around. Everyone around you seemed shocked to say the least, confused, maybe even scared. And you face softened as you realized what you had done. I fucked up.

As Bee dragged you away with her hand, walking back down the street towards your apartment, you looked around briefly in disappointment. More in yourself than anything. You sighed and looked across the street towards a local bar. I could use a fucking drink right now. Or two. Or three. Or an entire bottle of something.

Gerard, with much reluctance, had agreed to go out with Mikey and his friends. They went to the same bar for drinks, ordered the same things, and Gerard was proud to say he only had two shots. Much better than what he had done just a few days ago, a steady improvement. She would be proud, I bet.

He looked around, seeing some girls at a booth eyeing him like he was the most delicious thing all six of them had ever seen, and maybe he was, but none of them were you. So why did it matter?

“Hey man, you alright?” Mikey turned his stool at the bar to face his brother who still had a sad aurora outlining his entire personality and being at the moment.

“Yeah,” He sighed. “I fucked up real bad, didn’t I?” He asked with a tone of realization as Mikey tightly smiled and nodded.

“Yup.” He stated, taking a sip of his beer, “You fucked up. Big time.” Gerard took a deep breath.

“I’m gonna run out for a smoke, come with?” Mikey nodded in agreement, following his older brother closely behind as they made their way to the front of the building, leaning against it as Gerard quickly scavenged around in his leather jacket to find his pack, quickly lighting the one propped through his lips, impatiently waiting to feel some relief again.

“Fuck I hate this.” He muttered, talking solely out of the corner of his mouth free from intrusion of what he knew was poison wrapped in paper.

“Yeah, man, I think I could tell.” Mikey chuckled, a few moments of silence lingering between the two of them before Mikey took a deep sigh. “Listen, if you want her back, you’re really gonna have to fight for it. And you’re gonna have to change, Gee. You can’t keep being a shitty boyfriend to a girl who has probably at least a couple dozen men lined up to be her next.” “Yeah, I get that.” He removed the cigarette, letting the smoke fade into the air. “I’m scared, Mikey.” “Scared of what?” The younger brother asked, his entire face contorting into confusion and concern. Gerard had never been scared, or at least had never openly admitted to it.

“What if I actually lose her. Like, actually.” He began, “What if she moves on, finds a rich husband that actually treats her like the gorgeous, amazing, smart woman she is. Has kids and a big house in the suburbs and a stupid big fucking Suburban or something and college funds for their kids and shops at Whole Foods- and what if that guy’s not me?” “Gee,” Mikey began, not even sure where to go with this as he blankly stared at his brother, mouth wide open. “You realize you will never be that guy, right?” “I mean, the Suburban part, yeah. Who the fuck actually needs a car that big-” “No, any of that!” Mikey exclaimed. “You could be her husband, sure, but you have never been able to commit to something or someone for more than a few years, and that’s stretching it. And kids- Gee, I love you so much man, but you’re like a kid right now. A lost 17-year-old trying to run from responsibility.” He sighed, “If you wanna be that guy, you gotta grow up, mature. I love the band, but man, use your college degree! You’re still in debt from it, go find a job, be a big boy for once and do it for her!”

Gerard let it all sink in. Deep down he knew Mikey was absolutely right. Gerard was scared of growing up, so he never did. He was always a stupid 17-year-old dreamer who fucked girls and played in a punk band, dressed like he would beat your face into the cement (which, let’s be clear, he would), and ran from everything. But this- you were something he couldn’t run from.

“You’re right Mikey I-” Right as he was about to continue absolute chaos erupted across the street. The two of them looked over, a bit confused, seeing the line across the street for whatever the stupid night club was called, it was popular amongst young people.

It looked like two girls were going at it. One had the others hair, then one punched the other, than the other punched that one, and finally the girl in the red dress- wait, he’s seen that dress before. His mind began processing and searching through it’s files trying to find where he had seen it before and then- shit, it was you.

He saw Bee, your best friend (who, side note: hated Gerard from the get-go) drag you away as you looked down in shame before looking back up in almost an internal panic. He knew that look on your face, it was the pure disappointment one that always led you to a breakdown. It was the same one you always made when you failed at something or fucked something up, just with blood coming out of your nose. Wait, that’s really hot- get it together Gerard! Y/N just got into a fight!

He turned to Mikey who turned to him at the same time. “Was that who I thought it was?” Mikey asked and Gerard nodded.

You were back to being curled up in your bed, sweatpants, sweatshirt and all, crying again. This time, the only difference was an ice bag pressed against your nose. You knew that this was your fault. But you had also had it with people who just didn’t... understand.

They never would. Sometimes people find love that erupts like fireworks, makes butterflies swarm in your stomach every time you see that person, the type of love that makes you want to spend every minute of the rest of your life with that person, even if it means regular arguments filled with screaming and fighting.

You weren’t really all that sure what went wrong. Gerard was great, always, but he had just been more on edge for the last few months and he broke. Your face turned sour as your mind brought back the images of the fight. You had thrown punches at each other constantly, it was part of your relationship to fight a bit every day over how he didn’t have an income, he would call you pretentious for thinking you were better than him, you would get pissed at him for using that as an excuse to continue and play games, then you would have make up sex and the world would be back to normal.

But this last fight, the last fight... it wasn’t like that at all.

“That’s a lie and you know it is!” Gerard fired at you, pacing in the small kitchen area as you stood in the living room, arms crossed and tears streaming down your face. “You’ve always wanted this perfect little princess life, wanted to copy your friends on everything they do with their stupid brunch and Instagram pictures and mimosas and fucking self help books-”

“You cannot seriously be accusing me of not knowing who I am.” You responded firmly with a scoff, standing your ground. “You’ve always been lost and running from who you are. You’ve constantly been in a battle with yourself against maturing. It’s why you’re acting like you’re nine right now.”

“Oh fuck off!” He yelled right back, “You’re not just pretentious, oh no, Y/N. You’re way worse than that.” A vile smile grew on his face as he was right about to press the nuke button on everything you two had together, “You’ll never be good enough. You and I both know that. You’re scared of never being good enough, so you try to prove yourself but all you do is make it worse. You’ll never be known, no one really gives a shit, you have fake friends who don’t care about you, a fucked family, and you think you’re the shit. A little advice: stop acting like you’re perfect when all you are is fucked up.”

You stared up at the man who had just this morning looked at you with the most gracious, loving eyes you had seen. Now, they were empty. A void that had sucked every little piece of you and him together. It was gone forever.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” You muttered under your breath.

“I was already planning on it.” He responded, walking over to the door, grabbing his leather jacket and slamming the door on his way out.

You wondered, still, if that’s what he actually thought of you as or if he was just trying to push your buttons. Either way, he pushed an irreversible button. It would be hard to look at that Gerard the same way, unless he became a newer, better version of himself. You almost laughed at the thought. A better Gerard? Impossible.

You laid there for a few more moments, letting those fantastical ideas fade into nothing, as they were, and heard a knock on the door. You sighed, getting up and assuming it was Bee here to scold you some more or a package arriving.

When you reached the door, you opened it and froze in place.

“So what am I supposed to do Mikey, huh?” Gerard was pacing his in brother’s kitchen this morning, his feet growing sticky against the tile as his worry grew. Mikey sipped on his cup of coffee, Gerard’s turning cold for possibly the first time in his life.

“Go check on her.” Mikey said nonchalantly, Gerard looking up at him like he was a crazy man. “Seriously, help her out. It’s a step in the right direction, and although you’ll need at least a mile of steps to reach where you were, it’s a start.” “I can’t just walk in her apartment like that, I mean- Mikey, I broke Y/N.” “Yeah, you did.” Mikey responded, going to refill his coffee again. “Which is why you need to fix it.”

“Hey.” His voice echoed through your ears over and over again until you realized you were just staring at him.

“Hi.” You responded.

“I um- I wanted to check on you after last night, the fight and ya know-” “Great, you saw that.” You sighed, holding onto the door frame for what felt like dear life. “I- I’m fine.” You forced a smile. He nodded a bit, scanning your nose.

“Are you sure? Your nose looks like it might be-” “I don’t need a snarky comment.” You stated, making dead eye contact to make it clear his games would not be tolerated now. Or ever.

“I- I wasn’t going to.” He said, stuttering a bit. “I was just gonna say it looks like it might be scratched a bit towards the bottom. Did you hit it with alcohol yet?” You shook your head. And letting your better judgment go, moved to the side to let him in.

He made his way straight to the bathroom, and under the sink where you kept the first aid stuff. You sat back down on your bed, which was a hot mess and had not been made in a week, and waited for him to come back.

He opened the small red box, getting out some bandage, small towelettes, and some extra alcohol. He began to dab some of the alcohol on the towelettes, examining your face a little. “This is gonna sting a bit, okay?” He said and you nodded.

He very lightly padded the area of shredded skin around your nose as you held back any sigh of weakness, only closing your eyes and flinching a bit when he began. He kept a sturdy hand on your chin, letting his fingers grace your skin which felt absolutely incredible- No Y/N, he’s bad right now.

“Good job, sweetheart.” He lightly smiled, putting the tools back in the case and throwing away the used towels before putting a bandage under it to stop any further bleeding. “Have you taken painkiller?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, some, I’m almost out though-” “I could run to the store and grab you more.” He beamed and you looked up at that hopeful face of a man who crushed you just a week ago. You sighed.

“Gee, I-” You looked away for a moment trying to formulate the words without crying. “I- I think it’s best if maybe we- maybe we don’t see each other for a bit.” You cringed just slightly over your words, still looking away and with much hesitation looking back up at him.

His face was disappointed, but not surprised. You felt bad, of course, but these were boundaries, right? And well all need those. He slowly nodded, looking away a bit and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen I just think we have two different views on a lot of things including what we were and until we can find that mutually again we should just-” “I get it.” He responded with a tight smile. “I um- I have a lot of work to do on myself, and you have a lot of things in life that I shouldn’t hold you back from, especially now.” You nodded, grateful that he understood.

You got up with him to walk him out, and as you opened the door and he walked into the hallway you couldn’t help but quickly grab his hand, pulling him back for a moment to look at you. His face was soft and sorrowful, but also understanding. You decided to lean in and give him one kiss on the lips, your flesh barely touching in the process, but just enough to remind him of everything.

“Just- say you’ll remember me?” You asked, still holding onto his hand. He gave it a small squeeze.

“How could I ever forget you?”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way x y/n #gerard way x you #gerard way #my chemical gerard #gerard way fanfiction #mcr gerard #my chem #my chemical romance x reader #my chemical gee #my chemical romance #mcr x reader #mcr fanfiction #mcr

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tangerinegod · 3 years

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Something about us

#naruto #sns #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #fanart #doodles #its 1am so ill do the small tag essay on my thoughts #the first pic is like the perfect envisionment of sns in my head #ik its just a shining orb but whenever i try and draw them thats what they r #anyways they are both grasping eachothers sealed hands and it shines the most between them #as an act of togetherness #sasukes hand reaches through naruto similar to the gesture of chidoring him #but also palm up like a holding heart way... like he could cradle naruto but dove too far #naruto is reaching out to try and catch sasuke but also has pushed past him #both are lit at the base of the body to show the devotion in their gestures #but the middle is the brightest because its the strongest point of connection #where they meet eachother in the middle as an equal balance of love

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just-a-sleepy-idiot · 3 years

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Valak Imagine: Him seeing you for the first time

Content/Warnings: Nun!Reader, Female!Reader, Blaspemic stuff since it's written out of a demons perspective after all, Based of the movie 'The Nun', Major Spoilers for the Nun!!, Kinda soft Valak

He had paced these holy halls so many times, disguised to sow fear in the nuns that lived here- showing them that evil was among them looking like one of their own. He mocked them with this form, and soon enough death had grasped all of them, all up to one last woman.

Valak wished to take over one of their bodies, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction when the last one chose to commit one of the worst sins the Bible knew, taking her life rather than letting him take over her mortal existence. He thought it was quite funny, to see one of gods devote believers choosing to do this to oppose a demon. He wondered which outcome would have taken on worse judgement- taking her own life or letting her precious little body get taken over by a demon?

He already waited, yearned for others to come which they eventually would. Toying with their sanity and their beliefs, he already felt the arrival of two devote believers coming close.

Eventually you were here- first a priest, and Valak could look deep into his heart and see his guilt haunting him, guilt that the demon would use to torment him later on- this priest and you.

You were wearing a dress, but you might as well have worn the white robes because you emitted something.. pure. No human was ever fully pure, not like they wanted to be, and you too had your yearnings and troubles of course but he saw purity because you were fully aware of them and faced yourself with clarity and judgement.

You weren't a blind follower of the book, driven by blindness, guilt or foolishness.

Valak huffed in contempt, instantly feeling how the opposing nature of his origin and your devotion was stirring up inside of him. Like magnets, wanting to draw each other away.

You stayed now for two nights, and he had already begun playing his schemes with the priest but you.. he still only.. watched. He still only observed you, and he wasn't sure why he was so hesitant.

You were only a mortal after all, you would tremble at the mere sight of him. He felt no fear, so maybe it was.. curiosity?

His demonic nature longed to corrupt you, to teach you fear and see you scream like the other nuns. He was the defiler, the profane, the Marquie of snakes. He wanted to mock and corrupt and watch the ones who serve god crumble in their beliefs.

So why did he keep his distance with you?

A few days went by, and both you and the priest slowly begun to understand what had happened here and how it was tied to the evil that was roaming this place.

Valak had shown you images of the nuns that lived here, and you were believing everything as if it was actually happening. He watched you interact with your environment and with the shadows of the ones that were gone already.

And one day he decided to show himself. Looking like the nun he chose to torment the others with but a little.. softer, a little bit more disarming. With features that he guessed would invoke trust from humans.

When he approached you, you felt someone looking at you without hearing a single step. When you turned around, you were met with green eyes and looked up to a tall nun. There was something strangely.. intense about her, yet you had a feeling like you could feel safe despite of that.

"How do you like it here so far?" How long has it been since he had used words of the human world..

"I like it a lot. I've been treated very well here, the only thing that worries me is the wellbeing of Father Burke. He had horrifying things happening to him."

Valak suppressed a smile, yes he did indeed. "I see."

He continued on talking to you, spying on what it was that a nun like you was thinking by conversing with you.

"Have you been taught about demons, Sister Y/n?"

This question.. had something off-putting, as if you felt like despite her calm and cool expression she was very interested in whatever you might say next.

"Of course, Sister Val." You fumbled with your hands, "Although none of my fellow sisters ever seemed to really take matters of evil very seriously." They concentrated so much on the good that they didn't seem to take the bad forces in the world seriously. They felt too secure.

Valak knew how easily everyone wanted to forget what was waiting outside of their churches, their holy little homes that they felt so safe in. "And what do you think of them?"

You looked up into the green eyes of the tall woman, frowning at that question. No one ever asked about.. an opinion of these things, because it was taught that everything unholy like the creatures of hell were bad and there was no other way to see them.

"The forces of god as well as those of evil are constantly opposing each other. They are bad, they are destructive and against every living being." Your gaze dropped, "But.. I think that is part of the balance, the way it naturally has to be. Of course we have to fight evil, but I don't think just like evil neither does good is supposed to win. And therefore demons are.. just like us," you looked up again and smiled shyly, "something like soldiers?"

Valak stared at you without saying a word.

Just like them?! No, no you were just a mortal, just a flesh puppet. He was above the pity skills of gods creation! There was no way you were alike.

How strange it was to be thinking that while he literally looked like one of them, using the human tongue to communicate and observing this woman instead of following the unholy urges of destruction that were given to his very existence.

And suddenly, you were pressed against the wall, held high up by the nun who's expression now cruelly turned into something demonic. You gasped, unable to look away as he growled darkly at you. He was done playing, he should just snap your neck right there.

But.. he didn't- he couldn't! The demon growled in frustration, harshly pressing you against the wall even more before suddenly letting you go.

"Your foolish beliefs will not earn his favor, little one. You should go back to blindly being his devoted sheep."

You hurried to stand up again, leaning against the wall for stability after your fall with rapid breathing. The green eyes now begun to glow, almost like gold, and Valak loomed over you.

"Leave, leave and send someone as blind as the others, you are not amusing anymore."

You begun to run, candles lit along your way and blew out after you passed. You looked back as you sprinted through the stone corridor and saw the outline of a horned figure watching you go.

You were carrying a forbidden truth with you, something that he did not wish to defy. He wanted you to live, he wanted this truth to blossom within you. Maybe it would corrupt you.. but maybe it would make you even surpass all the others.

Valak would find a way to cross paths with you again.

- - -

I hope you liked it! If you are offended by the religious stuff please know that this is based off a movie and what is written in here is fiction and not a reflection of my actual beliefs so pls don't rage in my comments

#valak x reader #the nun #the conjuring #the conjuring 2 #conjuring valak #slashers x reader

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missallsundaes · 3 years

Note

May I have a notsafeforwork Buggy x nb reader where he's in a FOUL mood and everyone's like pssst take one for the team and cheer the bastard up since its obvious to everyone but Buggy and reader their into one another anyway. Thanks x

oooh fun fun prompt.. I love Buggy… probably too much. BUT that means that yeah you can absolutely have nsfw Buggy.

CW: face fucking, devil fruit nonsense, doggy style.

The clown had definitely been taking his anger out on the Big Top, you could nearly retrace his steps through the destruction in the hallways. You definitely wished that today wasn’t the day you were looking for him, especially to deliver some bad news delivered via DenDen Moshi. You found Cabaji and Alvida before you found the Captain. They were deep in talk on the deck of the ship, and as soon as they say you, Alvida’s eyes lit up, plan already hatched in her mind.

“Just the errand keeper I needed,” She said, waving you over. “Buggy is in just a terrible mood today isn’t he, Cabaji?”

He nodded, “I don’t know what’s wrong with the Captain but he’s mad at just about everything.”

“So I was thinking,” Alvida continued, barely giving Cabaji time to finish confirming her previous sentence, “You know how the Captain has a shine for you?”

You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion, “Does he?” You weren’t quite playing dumb, you just really hadn’t noticed any favourable conditions he had given you, though you admitted you had seen him more than once in different states of undress that made your mind wander.

Cabaji nodded as Alvida continued, “Yeah, definitely, have you never noticed the way he watches you?” She laughed. “Anyway so we were thinking, what’s the best stress relief? Sex. Right. Sex. So what you’re gonna—“

Your face flushed red, “You want me to fuck the Captain?”

“Well there’s not.. anyone better suited for it,” Alvida said, and Cabaji nodded again. She opened the door near where you were standing. “He’s in the Captain’s Office, I believe” The shouting and smashing from down the hallway would make you believe that was definitely the case. She gave you a little push down the hallway, giving you a smile and a thumbs up before shutting the door behind you.

You were suddenly much more nervous to find your captain than you were a minute ago, especially because you weren’t sure if he had talked to Alvida before you had. You knocked on the door to his office, and the door swung open almost immediately.

The clown’s face was in yours as the door swung open, “WHAT?” He shouted, his eyebrows knit together over the crossbones drawn on his face.

“Uh, Alvida sent me?” You tried, maybe going with the subtle, if he hadn’t talked to her yet.

“For fucks sake, why? Do I not have enough to deal with today?” He turned around, stomping back to his desk and flipping over paperwork. “This goddamn Warlord paperwork is more than I want to do, I’m a pirate I’m not meant to do paperwork, I’m meant to pillage and loot!” He said, gesturing wildly at the room, as if talking to a crowd and not just you behind him.

You slid into the room, shutting the door behind you.

“If It would help relieve some stress,” You said, summoning the courage from deep inside your belly, “You could.. pillage me?”

His head whipped around, disconnecting from his neck in an absolutely terrifying sight, “Are you suggesting what I think?”

“I mean, if it would help.” You nodded, “It’s not like I haven’t had fantasies about you Captain..” Oh gods, that was more than you meant to admit but now it was out there and you were just gonna deal with those consequences.

His hands were on your hips in seconds, lifting you up and pulling you towards him, he had turned his body to face you now as well, a crooked dirty smile on his lips, and hungry look in his eyes.

“You know your Captain doesn’t share, right?” He said once you were positioned in front of him, his voice husky and deep on your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m just yours Captain.” You managed to croak out, his hands now exploring your body, his gloved fingers exploring your bare skin, one tracing down your spine and the other down into the front of your trousers to feel your arousal.

His body pressed into you, he nibbled on your neck, leaving marks behind as he tracked his way to your chin. You could feel his erection against your thigh, pressing desperately, impatiently into your soft skin.

His left hand reattached to his wrist, the other pawing at your sex, making you writhe and mewl for more of his ministrations.

His arm moved around you and he scooped you up into his arms and set you on the desk, scattering the paperwork across the floor, he ripped open your top, buttons flying across the room from his violent action, his teeth finding your bare skin to bite and suckle on, making you moan for him more. He pulled his hand from your body, causing you to whine at the missing sensation, and you felt him smirk against your body.

“Like it that much, did’ya?” He crooned, you looked down at him, nodding weakly, seeing the red of his lipstick smeared on his face and across your chest, sending new fire to your loins.

“Yes Captain, please more,” You mumbled, reaching your hands up to find his hair spilling from the corners of his hat, but he moved quicker, taking the hat off completely and letting his hair fall down around your face.

“What was that, Couldn’t hear you?” He said, pulling down your trousers and underwear from your hips, letting gloved hands tease down your thighs.

“Please Captain Buggy, more,” You said, feeling him tugging down his trousers, “Please Captain, let me suck your dick” You moaned as he bit your nipple, leaving a ring of his lipstick around your areola. “I want to suck your dick.”

He backed up from you, sitting in his chair behind the desk, “Come on then, suck my cock.” He said, gesturing to his hard member standing at attention between his legs. You let yourself slide off the desk and between his legs, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock and your lips around his swollen glands. He moaned above you, his hands finding their way into your hair and pressing you to swallow more of his cock. You flattened your tongue, sucking down more of his dick and rotating your hand to stimulate him at the same time. Flicking your tongue against the prominent vein on the underside of his shaft as you hollowed your cheeks on his member, devouring him like he was your last meal.

The hand on your head pulled you back, freeing your mouth and letting your spit dribble from the corners of your lips. You breathed deeply, catching your breath and trying to get back to his cock, tongue lolling out of your mouth in a greedy slutty show for him, but he was holding you just out of range, sadistic smile on his face above you.

“Are you that hungry for me, you little tramp,” He said, letting you pull your own hair as you tried to reach his member with your lips again. “Ask again for what you want,”

“I want your cock, Captain,” You said without hesitation, licking your lips as you looked up at him in his chair, “Please Captain let me have it.”

He brought you down swiftly, your mouth opening on instinct to take him to the hilt, he held you in place before using your hair as a handle to fuck your face. His hips eagerly thrusting with the same rhythm as his hand as he used you like a personal toy.

You could feel his posture tighten under you, and he held you still, trying to not let himself come yet, his dick down your throat and twitching, eager to let loose the pent up seed. He let himself calm down before pulling you off of him and letting go of your hair.

“I need to fuck you, I need to be inside you.” He said, voice deep and commanding. You eagerly stood up, laying yourself across his desk, knee up on the firm oak of the desk so he had easy access to your awaiting hole.

“Mmm, good, well trained already,” He hummed behind you, standing behind you to position himself, but wasting no time in slipping himself in. He barely gave you time to adjust to his dick inside you before his hands were gripped on your hips, thrusting deeply into you, making you gasp and moan for him with each pump of his hips.

You weren’t going to last long, even with so little foreplay on yourself, the rough treatment and being treated like his personal fucktoy had gotten you going something fierce, added to the loyalty, love, and devotion you already had for your captain and you could feel the tight coil inside you pressing and straining.

“Captain, let me cum for you,” You moaned, not knowing what you would do if he said no, you were desperate for it, desperate to cum and feel him cum inside you. Without answering you, his hands found your sex, teasing you along to the same rhythm that he fucked you with.

“Come for me,” He moaned, voice sounding desperate himself, his hands making sloppy movements on you as he felt himself beginning to come, but his first spasm inside you was the last straw you needed to feel the spring within you release, and you came messily together, as he pulled out to cum across your back, stroking himself and you in turn with both of his hands until your orgasms had both subsided.

“Fuck I needed that,” He said, slumping back into his chair, pulling you by the waist to sit down on his lap. He nuzzled his face into your neck, leaving kisses on the skin he could touch.

“oh Captain,” You moaned, settling down into his arms, “In all my fantasies its never been that good.”

He laughed into your shoulder, “Just wait until next time, I can always top my best.”

#Buggy the clown x reader #Buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy #one piece #one piece x reader #reader insert #NB reader #n/sfw text #n/sfw under cut

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1kook · 4 years

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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raineeskiesabove · 3 years

Text

His Truth | Albedo x Sucrose HC & Oneshot (ish)

Using the hc that Albedo is a homunculus, but the nature of this creature ranges across works of fiction I’ve seen, so the rest is based on my own interpretations;;

These two may be brainy in their respective fields of study, but romance is an entirely new ballpark for both of them

They’re both complete dorks when it comes to “wooing” a special someone, and are too shy to admit their feelings. At least for Sucrose, anyway. Albedo’s feelings are a bit more complicated, as he questions whether or not his feelings are even real.

Albedo isn’t human. His feelings aren’t human. It wouldn’t be fair to let Sucrose grow so close to him. It would only be a matter of time before he would lose control, losing whatever “self” he had managed to develop over the years.

At first, Albedo treated Sucrose like everyone else- slightly distant, but with respect. However, over time, he grew fonder of the other alchemist, of her devotion to alchemy and her sweet personality. Over and over, he’d insist that she could drop the “Mister”, but she never seemed to listen. It was this pressure, of Sucrose respecting him so much, that made him all the more convinced that she shouldn’t grow close to him. The real him wasn’t who she thought he was.

“Sucrose, this is a busy time of research for the both of us. Please keep all conversations short and to the point,” he would begin to say, using a purposefully cold and icy tone.

“Y-yes of course, Mister Albedo!” Sucrose would always comply with his wishes, even if his words stung a little. But she had the tendency to ramble, and simply figured that perhaps he had grown tired of her constant questions, observations, and other such things.

For a while, Sucrose accepted Albedo’s new terms, only asking for his attention when she knew he had a job for her. No more questions about his work. No more asking for guidance. Perhaps, she thought, he was testing how well she could research on her own! She knew she was lying to herself, but Sucrose would do anything to reassure herself that Albedo didn’t truly dislike her.

One day, Sucrose left town alone to collect some samples out in the fields of Monstadt. She hadn’t told anyone where she had gone.

By this point, Albedo was mentally tearing himself apart from the inside out, realizing that he could not bear the burden to live like this. He knew that this hurt her. He could see it every time they passed in the hallway- instead of offering a shy wave, she simply looked away and continued walking. She never visited him in his lab anymore. She never asked questions, told him about the subjects she was most fond of.

But what was more concerning were the changes his body undergone since he had shut Sucrose out. At first it was barely noticeable: a hairline fracture, what seemingly appeared to be a crack, running down from the bottom point of the star on his neck. The crack led to nowhere, and didn’t chip upon his inspection, so he was forced to leave it be. As the days passed, more and more cracks began to appear, now stemming from all sides of the star marking. Soon, the cracks caused the outer layer of his skin to chip off, revealing an unnatural, gold interior beneath. These areas were extremely sensitive, like the star on his neck, making work very difficult to accomplish.

Albedo fell into a state of depression, now without care for whatever happened around him. He could barely sleep at night from how intense the markings felt, but resisted the urge to show anyone. Unlike himself, who eagerly devoured stories of the unknown, the other seeing him would frighten them.

He spent the following days mindlessly doodling Sucrose over and over again. He’d drawn her before, already memorizing each detail down to the strands of hair on her head. Thoughts of her ran through his mind almost obsessively, and he simply couldn’t understand why. He cannot love. It isn’t real. He is hardly real. He needed to let go of her, but any attempt to detach himself proved fruitless.

Only one event, after almost half of his skin had decayed, roused him from bed. A knock at his door.

“Albedo?” It was Jean. “Have you seen Sucrose? No one has seen her since yesterday, and we checked her lab. She isn’t anywhere in town, and I’m getting worried...”

Sucrose? But she never left the city unless it was to accompany him- oh.

He was such a fool.

Pulling up his hood, leaving his hair down, Albedo opened the door swiftly, saying nothing as he passed Jean in a hurry.

The only lead he had to go off of was her elemental traces, which were already fading due to it being a day since her disappearance. Not to mention that he had to move slowly, due to how sensitive every movement felt.

Half a day passed, and Albedo began to fear the worst when the trail led to the Thousand Winds Temple. So many, too many monsters dwelled within this area. It was much too dangerous for one to go alone, especially for Sucrose, who lacked a particularly reactionary element. And by now, a steady stream of rain had begun to fall around him.

Finally, he found her laying lifeless against the cold concrete, surrounded by a Ruin Guard that had seemingly lost interest in her.

If one emotion he never felt was love, the other was anger. Pure, white rage that blinded every other thought telling him to be rational. These feelings were simply overwhelming, his heart feeling like it would burst at any moment.

Defeating the Ruin Guard in a monstrous explosion of geo energy, he rushed to Sucrose’s side quickly, checking for a pulse.

Weak, but alive. Severely injured, but still breathing.

“Sucrose... Sucrose, can you hear me?” Even in a situation as dire as this, Albedo felt his voice come out calmly and even.

At first she thought that she was dreaming. She had convinced herself that she would die out here, that no one would come looking for her. Especially not the one sitting above her now. Her glasses had long been lost, but instantly she knew who it was. Even the act of breathing hurt, but the relief of seeing his face caused a smile to bloom on her lips, a laugh to escape her throat.

“Y-you came,” she whispered.

“Yes,” was all he could say before the tears escaped him, running down his face relentlessly, falling onto the girl below. His sobs were strangled and raw, echoing throughout the plaza they were in. A stream of “sorries” and “forgive mes” were mixed throughout his cries, Albedo’s chest heaving from the sudden burst of emotion. Never in his life had he cried. Never had he experienced the true feelings of sorrow and regret.

She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, perplexed by the gold plating of it, but more concerned with the distress he was in. Never had she seen her cool and collected teacher so vulnerable.

To both of their surprises, her touch did not cause him to recoil, nor did it sting him. But rather, as she held her hand in place, the gold began to fade, again growing encased within his usual skin color.

He held her hand against his cheek tightly, now desperately holding onto it. He had almost lost her, but he wasn’t going to make the same mistake a second time. In terms of his condition, he didn’t understand why he had begun to decay, nor did he understand why she could repair it. But she simply could, and that was enough for him to accept that he needed her.

She insisted to now sit up, which he initially declined to endorse, but her insistence was enough to make him back down in his vulnerable state. Sitting in silence, she broke it with a nervous giggle, noting how both of them weren’t having a very good day.

Through his tears, Albedo couldn’t help but let a chuckle escape him, his forehead falling against hers. The movement caused Sucrose to freeze, shocked by his sudden and uncharacteristically bold move. In her trance, she barely noticed that he had guided her hand to the star on his neck, her touch causing a faint glow to emanate from the marking. Through his clothes, the two could see the rest of his gold spots lit up, the glow fading as her touch closed the openings.

“Mi- ah... A-Albedo, I don’t understand. Are you alright? The unusual markings on the surface of your body looked uncomfortable. Why... why was my touch so effective in counteracting them?”

“That is... beyond the realm of my understanding, Sucrose. But, I seek the truth of this world, do I not?”

She nodded, but secretly wondered what that had to do with her question.

“A long time ago, my master gave me one final task: discover the truth of this world. Days grew into months, months into years, and I never found an answer that I could accept. I grew worried that I would never be able to unravel the mystery presented by my master. Logically, this is likely an incorrect answer, but the truth of this world, my truth of this world... For now, I would like to define it as the love that I hold for you. It is... a bit of a foolish answer, isn’t it?”

“...no. No, not at all,” she whispered, closing her golden eyes. A small smile graced her lips, a gentle breath escaping her nose as her shoulders relaxed.

Perhaps it was only seconds, maybe hours, that they stayed rooted in this spot. But there was still one thing they both knew for certain, regardless of the passage of time around them. In the middle of this damp, abandoned site lost to time, Albedo and Sucrose shared their first kiss.

Eww the formatting HAHA;; Ma’am it is 130am wtf am I doing. I am so sorry if the writing and concepts make no sense lmao I fell down this rabbit hole and it became a pseudo oneshot that probably needs a lot of editing I’m too lazy to do rn. Til next time homies <3

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo #albedo #genshin impact sucrose #genshin sucrose #sucrose x albedo #sucrose #alberose #genshin alberose #albedo x sucrose #genshin impact oneshot #kreideprinz

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four-loose-screws · 3 years

Text

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 17, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 17 - The Demon King's Shadow (con’t)

Frelia's pegasus knight unit was continuing to desperately defend against an overwhelmingly large enemy army.

Their entire unit had already been nearly wiped out, and the remaining soldiers were putting all of their strength into defending the bridges. If they fell here, then the enemy could invade in one fell swoop, and the people of Narube would likely be massacred without resistance.

"Those who can move, take the citizens south!" Syrene, the leader of the pegasus knight unit, shouted as loudly as she could while swinging around her lance and fending off the enemy's onslaughts.

However, she hardly had any knights left that could follow that order. Even if the knights managed to get the children atop the pegasi, their wings were damaged, and they couldn’t fly. Even the citizens who had panicked and cried at first had already lost the energy to do that any longer, and exhaustedly slipped into utter silence.

They’d made a major miscalculation. The Grado Army had lost the capital, yet still had a large number of soldiers left.

If the knights thought only about themselves, then they had the possibility to take advantage of their pegasi’s mobility and retreat, but they couldn’t abandon the people of Narube just to escape.

“We’re at our limit, Lady Syrene! We’ll buy you some time! Please do whatever it takes to get out of here!” A knight wearing armor covered in blood yelled at her.

But Syrene shook her head.

She had no intention of running away until the very end. The bodies of the Frelian soldiers who’d exhausted all of their strength lay around her. She was ready to die here in battle herself as well.

Her only regret was that she couldn’t live up to Prince Innes’ hopes for her. She remembered the day that she’d officially become the leader of the pegasus knights as if it was yesterday. The prince had personally given her a beautiful whip and said that the pegasus knight unit was the pride and joy of Frelia, and he wanted them to fight for their homeland so long as they drew breath.

His words filled her chest with deep emotions. She swore to herself that she would devote herself to Frelia… and Prince Innes and Princess Tana.

The plan was to unite her forces with the prince’s at Narube River and fight together at full strength under his orders. However, before that could happen, she would probably see her end. Regret burned in her heart.

Her younger sister was together with the prince. That was her only consolation. If her sister could protect the prince when she couldn’t… then that was all she could ask for.

“Lady Syrene, that’s…!” One of the knights shouted.

Was it more enemy reinforcements? Just how much leftover strength could the Grado Army have at this point?

The moment Syrene was about to succumb to her despair, she looked at where her soldier was pointing, and instinctively breathed a sigh of belief.

A large army was nearing from the south. They were still a considerable distance away, so she couldn't clearly make out who they were, but the color of their armor was different from that of the Grado Army.

"Is that… the Renais Army…?" The moment Syrene whispered, a single pegasus knight appeared from the oncoming crowd, and flew straight in her direction.

Syrene knew who it was before her eyes could even confirm the rider’s face, as she could distinguish the slight but distinct strong wing movements and neck shaking of individual pegasi.

She smiled without even thinking about it, and felt a weight be lifted off her shoulders that had been with her since the beginning of the war.

“Commander Syrene, are you alright?!” The knight riding the pegasus shouted, and swiftly threw a javelin at a Grado soldier coming at her while avoiding his own attack.

She effortlessly hit her target, showing her strength. ‘She’s gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time.’ Syrene thought.

“Vanessa, you’re here! Meaning…”

“Yes, Prince Innes and Princess Tana are with me! They are safe as well!”

“Thank goodness…” Relief warmed her heart.

Vanessa continued in a commanding tone, “Please stand down, Commander! We’ll take it from here.”

“No, I...”

‘...am not severely injured,’ she started to say, but thought twice about it.

Both her and her unit were already at the limits of their stamina. Even if she continued to be stubborn and fight on the front line, she would do the exact opposite of help, and get in her allies’ way. It was wiser for her to retreat for the moment, recuperate, and then pick up her weapon again.

“Understood! I will stand down for now, and let your commander take over from here. Please tell them I said so.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“And Vanessa.”

Vanessa tried to guide her pegasus higher into the sky, but Syrene called out to her again.

Vanessa turned back around and no longer had her previous tense expression on her face, perhaps because she had finally relaxed.

Syrene responded in a casual tone, “It looks like you’ve been playing a very big role as a soldier of Princess Eirika’s guard. I was really worried when I heard that you’d been betrayed in Carcino, but… I finally feel at ease.”

“Thank you Ma’am…!”

"Your spearmanship has improved greatly since we parted as well. And you've become a bit more beautiful too."

Vanessa’s eyes widened at suddenly being teased, and her cheeks turned red. “S-Sister…!”

No matter how good their relationship was as sisters, on the battlefield, they were commander and subordinate. To Vanessa, who was so serious it made her formal and strict, keeping that distinction was of vital importance. But right now, even she had forgotten herself.

Syrene laughed out loud and guided her pegasus to softly spread her wings.

Her pegasus had taken an enemy attack, which seriously injured her wing. She wanted her beloved pegasus to be healed as quickly as possible. To a pegasus knight, her pegasus was more than just a simple mount. They were invaluable partners whose fates were linked to each other.

“I’ll see you again later, Vanessa.” Syrene parted ways with her sister for the time being, and her pegasus flew off, leading her exhausted unit.

The Renais Army had crossed the bridge and was coming closer. Syrene stopped her pegasus and landed on the ground.

Everyone was injured and bleeding. Their uniforms had been beautiful and stunning when they left home, but now, they looked like they never could have been such dazzling garments. However, each and every one of their faces were lit up like the sun.

Syrene knelt down on one knee before Eirika and bowed her head. “Reporting, Princess Eirika of Renais! The Frelian Army was surprise attacked by the Grado Army, and we regrettably lost most of our soldiers. But only a few of the people of Narube have been killed since the beginning of the attack, and the rest are safe.”

“Good work. All of you please take whatever time you need to recuperate.”

Eirika’s voice was soft and kind. Just her words alone healed Syrene of her exhaustion.

“Are you alright, Syrene?”

She recognized Prince Innes’ voice, and looked up.

He was standing next to Eirika. Among his dirt-covered army, he stood out as the one refined person. He of course should be tired since he had traveled on a long journey together with the soldiers, but he didn’t show it in the slightest. His clothing looked as if a tailor had just dressed him.

“Lord Innes… I am sorry. The Frelian Army is unable to merge with Renais’ Army. We’ve suffered too much damage, and…”

"Never mind that. None of you have anything you need to worry about. We’ll take it from here.”

His words were reassuring. ‘It appears that Vanessa is not the only one who’s grown up while we were apart.’ She felt that Prince Innes had also become even stronger since the last time they’d seen each other.

‘Perhaps…’ Syrene thought. ‘Vanessa has become more beautiful because of Prince Innes?’ It was difficult for her to imagine Vanessa falling in love with any ordinary man. If he wasn’t a partner that she could respect with all of her heart, then he likely wouldn’t be able to steal it. And If there was any man that Vanessa could respect, it was of course...

“Syrene, do you know any information about the enemy commander?”

Innes asked her in a harsh tone.

Syrene shook her head. “There is a fort on the other side of the river. The enemy commander is using it as a base. I heard that it appears to be Prince Lyon leading the army. I have not been able to confirm that myself, but that is what my subordinates reported.”

“Hmm… Do you know anything about Prince Lyon? ...No wait, nevermind.” In a move that was entirely unlike him, Innes hesitated and changed his words. “Asking won’t change anything. For now, Syrene, please get healed, and return quickly to the battlefront. We still need your power.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

He seemed worried about Prince Lyon for some reason, but knowing that she and her soldiers were living up to the prince’s expectations made Syrene happy. The pegasus knights had survived their long, grueling fight, retreated for the time being, and were healed by Natasha and the other healers.

“Leave the front line to us. We’ll defend the northern bridge.” Ephraim said and charged his horse straight north.

His loyal knights Forde and Kyle led his other soldiers and followed after him.

Eirika went with Seth and the others to save the citizens. The group totaled a few dozen men and women huddling together and shaking. Eirika talked to each of them individually to encourage them, helped the injured atop her horse, and led them to a safe place.

Eirika worked as hard as she could, trying not to think about anything she did not need to. But every so often, she would remember that wicked voice. Whenever she thought about Lyon and the pain the Demon King had caused him, she couldn’t stand the feeling she felt.

‘I ate his heart.’ Or so the Demon King said. If she accepted his words literally, then Lyon’s heart was already gone, and his body entirely controlled by the Demon King. She did not want to believe that such a terrifying thing could be reality.

It had been for only just a moment, but she'd heard Lyon scream. “Run away…” He’d pleaded with all his might. “I’ll destroy you…” There was no way that could have been the Demon King’s voice.

Lyon’s heart had yet to be completely consumed. He'd nearly suppressed the Demon King’s consciousness, and was continuing to just barely manage to fight. He was struggling as hard as he could to remain in control. And that was why they had to press forward. They had to defeat the Demon King and restore his heart.

But on the other hand of that thought, the Demon King's last words weighed heavily on her heart. Ephraim told her not to worry about them, yet she couldn't help but think about them.

Kill Prince Ephraim, and claim Princess Eirika. The Demon King said that was Lyon's desire. A kind man like Lyon shouldn't have such a twisted and ambitious desire… or so she wanted to think, but her heart was no longer sure.

As Lyon was a sickly person, Ephraim had always been the object of his admiration. In situations like when Ephraim was praised by Duessel, or he won a match against a senior knight, Lyon would cheerfully say "You really are amazing, Ephraim!" Those were words of wonder and amazement.

At the time, Eirika didn't think much of it, and just took his words at face value. ...There hadn’t been any warped feelings hiding underneath that adoration, right? He thought Ephraim was amazing… and wanted to be Ephraim… but he couldn’t. Those feelings of inferiority hadn’t turned into jealousy, had they?

“Lady Eirika, we have finished leading the people to safety.” Seth reported.

The pegasus knights had also finished receiving their treatment, and were awaiting Eirika’s orders. Now was not the time to be guessing what was within Lyon’s heart. She had orders to give as her army’s commander.

“Let’s go! We will take the fort across the river and capture Prince Lyon!” Eirika hesitated for a moment, then added, “You must not kill him! We still have a lot of questions for him.”

Syrene and her pegasus knights immediately accepted the order and all flew up into the sky at once. The pegasi had all been healed alongside their riders, and their energy was restored. They flapped their white wings at full strength.

Seth looked up at the pegasus knights and said, “Lady Eirika, I understand how you feel, but Prince Lyon is already…”

“...I know.” She cut off the rest of his sentence, not wanting to hear it.

He looked straight at her. "Our enemy introduced himself as the Demon King. We still do not know whether he truly is or not, but if he is, then this is very serious. Even if we fight him at full strength, we still might not win.”

“...You're right.”

“It’s a shame that his heart is in chaos on the outside, but…”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Seth. I’m prepared to fight him.” Eirika nodded with conviction.

She couldn’t make Seth worry, and so she spoke those words to him immediately. In truth, she still didn’t know. Would she be able to turn her sword against him?

Eirika maneuvered her horse to the front line, where Ephraim's group was fighting. She shook off her hesitation and gradually picked up speed.

A harsh battle was unfolding on the northern bridge. Grado dragon knights attacked from the sky, making the fight difficult for Ephraim and his soldiers, but the pegasus knight unit rushed to their side, and started to change their situation bit by bit.

Pegasi were of a smaller build than dragons, but were utterly fearless. They flew bravely at the enemies' chests, and threw them into confusion. Once the dragon unit's movements had broken out into a panic, Innes and Neimi shot arrows straight at them. The arrows flew through the dragon's wings. Their cries pierced the sky, and their riders lost their balance and fell into the river.

Once Eirika's army finally captured the bridge, they used that momentum to continue moving east. They could now see the fort the enemy was using as their base.

"He's in there, right?!" Ephraim asked when Eirika rode up next to him.

Eirika noticed that her brother refused to refer to Lyon by name.

Perhaps Ephraim felt just as lost as Eirika, and that was why he was purposely avoiding referring to Lyon by name. If he said it aloud, it might dull his resolve to fight, no matter what else he did.

The enemy was waiting for them outside of the fort. Eirika's army shifted into a fan formation and surrounded the Demon King.

He had a cruel smile on his face, and waited calmly for them. He no longer seemed to have any interest in pretending to be human. His facial features were clearly Lyon's, but his expressions did not feel human at all.

'That's not Lyon… such a wicked, cold stare could never be Lyon's.' Eirika told herself. But she still could not rid herself of her hesitation, rather, she tried to find if Lyon was left anywhere in his face.

"...So you intend to challenge me?" The Demon King asked.

The chilling sound of his voice made Eirika's horse tremble so hard she could not calm her.

"You are all so lucky to not yet know my true terror…”

"Get out of Lyon's body!!" Ephraim roared.

Eirika jumped. His voice was filled with an intense anger that she had never once heard come from him in her entire life.

Ephraim did not fear the Demon King, although perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was so infuriated by someone hurting Lyon that he forgot how afraid he was.

Ephraim's powerful voice boosted the morale of Eirika's army, but the Demon King met Ephraim's anger by laughing at him.

"It's not healthy to make your blood boil, prince of Renais. Don't you get it? Prince Lyon and everything about him is no more. I ate him. This body is no longer his.”

"Damn you…!" Ephraim raised his lance, and his soldiers each readied their own weapons. The archers and mages behind them also prepared themselves to support them.

But the Demon King’s spell was faster. Its waves rippled through the air, and a split second after, a horse collapsed.

Eirika looked over at them and felt fear send a chill down her spine. The neck of the fallen horse was turning in unnatural directions as if a huge, invisible hand was twisting it.

“Nosferatu…?!” Lute gasped. As someone so confident, it was entirely unlike her, but even she was panicking. “Please be careful! That is an extremely powerful dark magic. If you take a direct hit, then…!”

The army’s movements fell into chaos. The terrified horses burst out into a full gallop and tried to shake off their riders. Only Seth, Forde, and a few others managed to keep control of their horses, while the other knights all clung desperately to their horses’ necks.

The Demon King cast another spell. Another horse fell down.

The army was in a panic trying to rush outside of the spell’s range, but among them, Eirika was doing the opposite, and pushing ahead.

Seth and Ephraim noticed her and rushed over to her, flustered. They stood behind her, ready to protect her, as she faced the Demon King.

His expression changed, sharp eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

Eirika tightened her grip around her horse's reins. Her horse stopped shaking, the strength of her resolve seeming to communicate with her mount.

"Can you hear me, Lyon?" Eirika said and stared straight into the Demon King's eyes.

"It's useless!!" Ephraim shouted and tried to stop her, but she paid him no mind and continued.

"You're in there, aren't you, Lyon? Please do not abandon hope. We will defeat the Demon King and save you… so please, don't give in…"

The Demon King's expression shook ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and glared at Eirika. "Pitiful girl… You still believe that there is any of Lyon's heart within this body? How fascinating. Then come here. I will tear you apart limb from limb with these very hands…"

"Get away from him, Eirika!" Ephraim shouted and kicked his horse's side. Seth followed after him a second later.

Ephraim thrust his lance with a sharp battle cry. The Demon King narrowly dodged a fatal blow, but blood sprayed out from his shoulder. Seth followed up without a moment's delay, thrusting his own lance.

The Demon King flailed his arm around wildly, but there was no power in his movements.

"Support Ephraim! Archers, step forward!" Innes ordered, and swiftly shot an arrow of his own.

His silver arrow pierced deep into the Demon King's chest.

'Stop!' Eirika tried to scream. 'If you kill him, then Lyon's heart will die, too!!'

The Demon King staggered, but his eyes did not lose the intensity within them. "This little is too much…? The human body is so frail." He muttered in annoyance and pulled the arrow out of his chest. Blood flowed from the wound.

He glared at Eirika with eyes burning like a blazing fire. "I have learned the extent of your power. In this case… I will hasten my resurrection. I will abandon this frail body and return to my true flesh. That is the day when this continent will once again be shrouded in darkness. There is no longer a single place any of you can run to!” He said in a tone not unlike that of one giving a curse, and disappeared.

Ephraim yelled at him, “You’re running away?! Do you really think I’ll let you desecrate Lyon’s body ever again…?!”

Ephraim ordered the soldiers to search the area and turned back towards Eirika. “Are you alright, Eirika?”

“Yes…”

"Don't do anything reckless. You know he's not Lyon. The Lyon we were friends with is already…"

"Brother, I want to believe him. The Demon King says what he does, but Lyon's heart is still alive… he's suffering and waiting for us to save him. I can feel it." Ephraim furrowed his brow. His blue eyes clouded over with hesitation.

He was still suffering, too. Just like she was.

He sighed deeply. "...I understand. Right now, finding him comes first. Eirika, you rest for a bit."

"No, I'm going to search too…"

"Your face is terribly pale. You've pushed yourself past your limit. L'Arachel, could you please take care of her?"

L'Arachel was standing near him, so he called her over.

Eirika went into a tent with L'Arachel, deciding that she would take a short rest.

ー

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #eirika #game boy advance #gba #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

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puckmeupfam · 3 years

Text

Sap | Jeff Skinner

Word Count: 2287

Note: My autumnal aesthetic piece that I started in July. Title is based on the fact that this is entirely fluff without plot, and because it takes place in the Northeast with references to maple syrup, cider donuts, and leaf-peeping.

Zipping your newly packed suitcase and pulling it off the bed, you heard the front door open signaling that Jeff arrived home from practice. It was a rare time when he had the weekend off. No games, no practices after the one he just finished, just free time which he chose to devote to spending with you. The two of you loved going on short trips whenever possible to escape the monotony of work and grocery shopping and Buffalo. Honestly, you could spend the weekend in Lackawanna and be happy as long as you were with Jeff. This particular weekend was special because it was now solidly fall. The temperatures were dropping. The leaves were changing. Swimsuits were being swapped out for sweaters. And golf was being replaced by hockey.

You had spent most of the summer in Markham. Coming from a smaller family, you were always enamored by Jeff’s. At this point, you honestly considered them to be your family, too. You loved talking to Jillian about her time in law school or asking Ben about his hockey career in Germany. It was also hilarious to watch the five siblings tease Jeff about his competitiveness or on-ice gaffs, but he was always a good sport about it and just laughed with bright red cheeks. You knew how much it meant to Jeff when he got to spend time with his family and experience that warmth and joy. The both of you were incredibly lucky that Buffalo isn’t too far away, but with his schedule, the uninterrupted summer was extra special.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you missed Jeff coming up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. His arms wrapped around your waist and his face found its way into the crook of your neck. The action brought an unconscious smile to your face as you leaned back into him.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked you, voice muffled against your skin as he lightly swayed. You shrugged in response, “We should probably get Andrea a birthday gift while we’re gone, something nice you know? Show we were thinking about her.” Jeff hummed in response. He rocked the two of you a bit before speaking, “Are you ready to leave?” You took a deep breath, inhaling his cologne. Turning your body to look him in the eye you smiled softly, “Almost,” you whispered, “we should probably get going before they decide they need you to individually kiss each fan.” This elicited a booming laugh from Jeff that you felt throughout your body, “The only person I’m kissing is you.”

After another minute of contentment, you shuffled him away from you to grab some chargers and last-minute necessities. He chuckled as he started pulling your suitcase down to the car, he knew how much you were looking forward to this trip. You had spent the last week researching and talking about all the spots you wanted to visit while you were away. Grabbing your purse and hoisting it over your shoulder you did a last-minute sweep of the house to make sure that everything was unplugged and you weren’t leaving candles lit or stovetops on. After your anxieties were quelled you went outside and joined Jeff in the car. He had already put your B&B into the GPS and he flashed you a large grin which you eagerly matched as he pulled out of the driveway.

This trip the two of you were going to Western Massachusetts. It was about a five and a half hour drive, probably longer since you knew you would be stopping for lunch and every state park that came your way. You synched your phone and started playing music, knowing that you had a playlist with the perfect ambiance. Jeff always teased you for making playlists for every mood, weather pattern, task, or aesthetic that came in your head. But when the soft chords came through the speakers and his fingers started a gentle tap against the steering wheel to the beat, you knew that it was appreciated.

In Buffalo, the weather was just cool enough that the seat warmers got turned on but not yet so cold that you were shivering. You were cruising down the highway, close to crossing city lines. When you glanced over at Jeff he had a small smile, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Just watching the road with an underlying well of happiness. You took a minute to look at him, to take him in. His smile turned out to be infectious and you knew your face was probably spread with a dopey grin.

“You’re staring,” Jeff said, breaking the silence.

“You didn’t even look over. How would you know?” you complained.

“I could feel your stare,” he responded, looking over at you with a grin that took over his whole face. His statement made you burst out laughing. While the whole thing was funny and, you were sure that he really did get that weird feeling you get when someone’s looking at you, it made you think about how you were always so aware of each other. The two of you could be in a crowd of people at some Sabres bruncheon and someway somehow you could always glance up and see him already looking at you. Or when you would go to some team party, you always had a tendency to reach for each other’s hands at the same time.

“You would stare at you too,” was your response after you had realized that you went a few beats too long just staring into space.

It was Jeff’s turn to laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“It means,” you started, drawing out the word, “that you’re cute and potentially the embodiment of sunshine and everyone would stare at you if they could and I will simply not defend myself further.”

Jeff rolled his eyes at your dramatic tone and faux-seriousness. He swung his arm out over to you, holding it in the air until you grabbed his hand in both of yours. You pulled his hand into your lap and leaned further back into the passenger seat. Turning your head to the side to watch the city escape, your eyes unfocused and your brain turned to elevator music as your temple rested against the window. After a few minutes of contented silence, Jeff’s hand made its way to your thigh and squeezed, drawing your attention.

“Look at the leaves, babe,” he told you. The passing trees were dotted with warm-colored leaves of crimson, tangerine, marigold, and honey. It was absolutely gorgeous and seemed like a sign that your trip was only going to get better. You stared in awe for about a mile before you looked back at Jeff. His eyes flickered from the road to your face and the look he gave you, full of love and peace, made you feel so warm.

“They’re so pretty,” you said softly. You moved your hand to twine your fingers together and you watched his dimples come out in full force as he forced his eyes to stay on the road. After a few moments of contentment, you spoke again, “do you want me to tell you about the plant pigments that make these colors possible?”

Jeff chuckled, but you knew that your joke didn’t ruin the moment or anything else that you might think if you were talking to someone else. Because Jeff knew you, he loved you. He loved your bad jokes, your stories that you’ve already told him multiple times but just like telling again and again, the way you go into lectures to explain things that he had never thought twice about, your urge to talk during movies to comment on the scene or the actor’s personal life. He loved the best parts of you and he loved the worst parts of you. And this moment? Where you feel the light beaming out of your heart. It isn’t the moment. It’s just a moment in a string of hundreds of thousands of moments that you’ll experience with your favorite person.

After about two hours in the car, you were close to Syracuse and decided to stop for lunch. The two of you decided on a cute, local diner. Jeff parked the car and as you stepped out, you stretched your legs to rid yourself of the wobbly feeling from being in a car too long. The sidewalks were made of a red brick and there was a quiet hustle with people walking their dogs and couples going in and out of shops. The two of you walked side-by-side, but right when you were about to reach the door Jeff stepped ahead to hold it open for you. Stepping through you smiled at him and he followed you in. There seemed to be a typical lunch rush, but the restaurant wasn’t crowded. A waitress pointed you towards a booth and you slumped into it as Jeff sat across from you.

You both ordered coffees before cracking the menu open to see what they had. The pages were lined with different sandwiches, egg dishes, pancakes, and all the typical diner food that you loved. You settled on your order fairly quickly but Jeff scanned the pages until the coffees were brought out and the waitress was asking for your order. Handing her your menu, you explained what you wanted before both of you turned your attention towards your boyfriend.

“Could I have the brownie french toast?”

At that you raised your eyebrows at him incredulously. As the waitress walked away, scribbling your orders down as she went, Jeff looked back at you and laughed at your expression. “Cheat weekend,” was his explanation. He shrugged with an expression on his face like he was being forced to order what was likely the sugariest option on the menu. You threw your hands up to say you weren’t judging. Jeff quickly launched into a story about something Jack did at practice and that filled your wait until the food was brought to your table. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened comically when his food came out. It looked like there had been a blizzard of powdered sugar. It was topped with a whopping pile of whipped cream and a generous amount of rainbow sprinkles, just in case the brownie batter wasn't sweet enough.

Neither of you wasted any time in diving into your food and when you glanced up at Jeff after a few minutes you giggled when you saw that some of that whipped cream had ended up on his nose. You stealthily pulled out your phone to snap a picture of him. Once he heard the click of your camera he looked up at you which reignited your laughter.

“What?” he asked, chuckling lightly with you even without knowing the reason.

Without explaining yourself, you just reached out and swiped the sweet substance off his face before licking it off your finger. His response was just a sharp laugh with rolled eyes, head thrown back a bit at your antics. He knew full well that you were going to tease him for a long time for his choice of ridiculously confectionary lunch. You returned to your food with a shake of your head, but when you turned to take a sip of your coffee you noticed that Jeff had absolutely demolished his plate of french toast and was now trying to collect the remnant of whipped cream with his fork.

“It’s not going to be my fault when you crash from all that sugar,” you told him. He watched you dig your teeth into your lip to try and conceal the smile that was threatening to break through.

“Honestly, (Y/N), I’ve never felt better in my life. The sprinkles fuel me. I think I’ll make this my pre-game meal,” Jeff said with an air of seriousness. Sadly for him, but luckily for you, he had a genetic inability to suppress his smiles. You leaned back in the booth until your head hit the pleather upholstery and kicked your feet up to rest in his lap underneath the table.

“Don’t overwhelm yourself, I’m taking you to the Sugar Shack tomorrow and we’re getting the cider donuts.”

Jeff pulled a shocked and aghast face in response, “How dare you insinuate that I would ever be anything other than thrilled at the very prospect of cider donuts? You know, just because you said that I’m going to get two orders and we’ll see what you say when I eat those and yours too.”

You rolled your eyes so dramatically that you knew, if your mom were there, she would be telling you that they’d get stuck like that. Under the table, you kicked your legs up to rest in Jeff’s lap as he waved his arm to flag down the waitress for the bill. You sat quietly, just watching as he went through the monotony of thanking the waitress and putting his card in the sleeve of the bill. When he looked back at you, he smiled knowing that he caught you staring for the second time that day.

“You ready?” He asked you. A simple question, given that you were on a roadtrip with a predetermined destination. But with the opportunity to just appreciate him and your relationship, without the stress of your schedules or outside influences, it just felt meaningful. There was no one you would rather be with, during the happiest moments of your life or the worst. You felt a little misty with the joy of having him by your side.

“With you? Always.”

Pulling yourself out of the booth, you extended your hand for him to grasp and continued onwards.

#Jeff skinner #Jeff skinner imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl fic #buffalo sabres imagine #j.skinner #based in the fall started in the summer posting in the winter #not proofread #tw food

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Full Moon Sacrifice

It’s here! The breeding fic for Bloodhound I promised! Please enjoy- I also made them a lil more domestic in this fic and a lil more open with Reader as if y’all have been together for awhile to get ya Romance Juices flowin today! Enjoyyyy!

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader has a vulva and is explicitly stated, gender neutral reader, breeding kink, Bloodhound has a vulva but is not explicitly stated, strap on usage, werewolf dick makes a return, knotting, uhhh fluff?, God kink, sexual sacrifice

Words: 3k

_______________

It started out as a simple, harmless joke. A little poke at Bloodhound and their feral habits and saying that if they had a heat cycle, they’d probably be desperate to fuck you until you were full of pups. A joke, a simple little joke, that had their cheeks on fire and an interesting look in their eye as they peered at you from across the room. They had huffed a laugh through their nose at you, taking a sip of their drink as they murmured, “Perhaps.”

You figured it had been to humor you, but then something seemed to almost switch in the bedroom.

It started off small, probably something you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so interested in your partner. Just a little bit different of things. Such as their new favorite toys to use on you all had cum lube tubes attached to them. Or they felt the need to stuff you to your limits- or maybe use one of their ovipositor toys.

Even when you would take the lead, they seemed to fancy you getting penetrated in some fashion, even if it was them in a strap on with a vibrator tucked neatly inside of them as you rode them. It’s as if they needed to see the visual appeal to get off.

You started to piece it all together when Bloodhound asked you how you would feel about being their sacrifice this evening. Almost shyly they had said it as they held your hands. Curious, you dumbly asked, “You mean like- stabbing me?” To which they had let out a choked out noise and shook their head, dark cheeks flushing a lovely shade of red.

~Rest under the cut~

“No, beloved- ah...there is...other ways to sacrifice your body to the gods. An act of devotion- of bearing children?” They had started slow, eyes flickering between yours as you slowly got it. They waited for you to ask what they meant, but when your eyes lit up and you laughed in a flustered tone and averted your gaze from their strong one- they knew you got it.

“I knew it!” You had cheered playfully, bringing up your past joke. Only to get tackled onto the couch behind you with a flustered Bloodhound covering your face with a pillow. Your partner was far too cute, sometimes. Amazing to see what domestic love would do to them when they weren’t wearing a mask in the ring or pretending to be big and bad.

The day had come rather slowly with your eagerness and them refusing to touch you until the day. They kept teasing you periodically with too hard of kisses and a well timed hip squeeze to keep you interested, only to part and sigh against your mouth, “You must be ready when the time comes. You may touch yourself, but do not allow release. I shall know, my love.” Practically a threat.

You had poked, begged, and cried, but it would be all worth it, you just knew it.

The coming of summer meant the air was warmed, but not overly sticky or something to whine about. The forest was humming with the insects coming from their hiding holes and the winds brushing the tree tops and making them sway. Furs were lain out on the forest’s floor in the clearing, paving the way clearly for the full moon to shine down and cast its natural light where you rest on said furs. Your clothing had been taken from you with gentle, partially gloved hands, with only peppered kisses on your lips and cheeks keeping you on your toes.

When Bloodhound finally joins you, they’re completely dressed while you are bare before the gods above and the god in front of you. You whine softly in your throat, but remain lying down against the soft furs, knees pulled up and legs parted to show how desperate you were.

They come in full combat boots, leather pants, a tight and torn up dark red tanktop with a leather jacket thrown overtop with a fur lined collar. A black mask with sharp white teeth rests on their lower face and their red curls pulled into a ponytail. The partially gloved hands you had felt were from their fingerless leather gloves. It was a casual outfit they’d wear on outings, and you assume they had been out all day while you napped and tried to ignore the ache between your thighs.

Bloodhound’s eyes practically glow in the darkness of the forest, a singular blood red and a singular fire built in their blinded eye. They stalk around you without another word, looking ever so much like a predator as you quiver and hold still. Almost as if both of you were getting into characters and roles that you had yet to discuss. Them, the big, bad predator. And you, the helpless deer caught in their trap.

A soft sigh leaves you when they circle back around you and begin to remove articles of clothing. The mask and jacket go first, set to the side and followed by their gloves. They fit their body between your spread thighs, pressing their clothed body to yours and leaning over top of you with their tone spoken lowly, “You are going to be bred like the sweet little pet you are, am I understood?”

And the way it’s said- Gods does it send shivers down your spine. You’re already focused on the way their full lips move, how their sharp teeth glint that you can only nod vigorously, hips coming up to desperately try to catch their attention. Yet, Bloodhound is always smart, staying just out of reach to leave you wanting.

“Use your words.” They warn in the same low tone, eyes narrowing as if trying to hold back a grin at your desperation. It had been WEEKS since you’d gotten off- let alone touched yourself. You gave up on that way out quickly.

“Yes- yes, please, Houndie- baby, please, breed me. I’ve been good, so good-” You start to bargain, pleading and arching your back to try and look more appealing by letting your head fall to the side to bare your throat. It seems to work, since they swear under their breath- undoubtedly cursing that you know them so well- as their mouth comes to rest soon over your neck. Sharp canines nipping at your exposed flesh as their body begins to press weight down into you.

Their teeth soon become their lips pressing to yours, a hand resting in your hair and gently pulling to manipulate you where they’d like you. You moan softly into their mouth, reaching up to caress the curves of their sides and feel over the powerful muscle. Their hips shift, allowing your naked pelvis to press up against them and smear your slick over the front of their pants. You note that there’s a shape there, unlike the usual flatness, meaning they wore a toy here. You wonder if they intend on fucking you naked at all.

Knowing their speed and preferences, they’d rather you bare and helpless, and themselves quite the opposite.

The wind hums, picking up its pace briefly and the world seems to hum with the energy of the bright full moon overhead. Bloodhound seems affected as well, their soft pants turning to huffed, quiet growls as they bite at any inch of you they can. Working their way down your body until they reach your heat. Slick and wet with need as you peek down at them just in time to see them looking back up at you.

Their eyes are half lidded, lips parted to breathe hot air onto you. A small tilt down of their head implies that they’re inhaling your scent, an action that makes your cheeks burn and making your head fall back. Just in time when they nose at you, one hand resting over your mound and using two fingers to part your lower lips while another hand rests on your hip to keep you down.

The first hot, wet slide of their tongue makes you arch up with a hiss. Oversensitive from lack of touch in weeks and managing to curl your fingers into the furs beneath you rather than reach out and shove them down. “Hound-” You warn, your voice quivering with need. All you get in return is a low huff of amusement, spreading air across your heat and making your hips twitch as best as they could to get more.

Of course the world’s beloved Apex Champion was not only good at pulling a trigger, they were good at giving head, and enjoyed doing it just as much. Bloodhound indulges in you as if you’re a treat, or perhaps a last meal. Delving their tongue down into your hole only for their own little taste and parting your lower lips further to fully lick and suck at your clit. At some point their hand moves from your hip to rest underneath at your ass, helping arch you upwards against their mouth so they can suck a little harder, get a little messier.

Their moans of enjoyment are low, but noticeable past your own sharp sounds and low coos. They moan into you when your hand rests at their ponytail. Curling your fingers at the base and shoving them down further with a tone of desperation aching through your lungs and echoing throughout the night sky.

When you cum, both their hands cradle your ass and lift you up higher with their body. Practically on their knees and you practically bent in half so they can lick up your mess like sweet nectar on their tongue.

Oversensitive from cumming, you try to squirm and arch- but the new position does you no favors.

“Hound,” You try to cry out, toes curling and thighs flexing as their nails dig into the soft flesh of your ass. A growl echoing from their lips as their tongue slides sloppily over your clit until their lips can seal back over it greedily. “H-Hound!” You cry out again, hands flying back to their hair as you quiver and shake with a dry orgasm racking your frame far too soon.

You hardly can focus when they finally stop lapping at you like a starved dog. Gently, they rest you back down on the furs, letting you throw an arm over your face and shake with low whimpers in your throat. You vaguely can hear the zipper from their pants and how they pant lowly. You catch it in time to peek at them just as they wipe their mouth off, lips having been glossy from your slick. Once they catch you peeking, they flash you an almost feral grin, fitting when you glance down at their crotch and note their weapon of choice for the night.

“What is it that you told me the other day, dearest?” Their voice is almost a tease verging into a growl as their hands yank your hips, pulling your lower half up and practically into their lap. “That if I was perhaps a feral animal with a rut, that I would ‘fuck you until you were full of pups’?” They mimic you from the other day, two fingers pressing cruelly inside of your pliant cunt as your hips jerk from the motion. Curling upwards against your walls as if feeling you out, but you know they’re checking how wet you are.

Toys did NOT have natural lubrication and made it a bit hard for penetration without proper lubrication.

A few hard finger thrusts make you sob out a, “Fuck!” And throwing your head back. Feeling their fingers retreat and hearing them rooting through their jacket until seeming to find what they want. The familiar sound of a cap being flipped makes you shudder, hearing the slick noises of them fisting their own toy cock and stroking over it.

Their weapon of choice for the night was a favorite of theirs. A thick red cock with a tapered head and a fat knot, matching that of a dog’s- a fairly large dog for that matter. A werewolf even. Eight inches long in total including the fat knot that was as thick as your wrist. You can’t see the syringe connecting a tube to the base, but you know it’s on their person somewhere with the way this was going.

“For the gods, you shall be the sacrifice of the night,” Bloodhound murmurs, sliding the head of the cock through your lower lips. Gliding past your hole and over your clit then back down. Their eyes are trained fully on the action, hungrily watching the redness of the toy disappear briefly only to reappear slipping across your swollen clit. “You shall be my good breeding pet, will you not?”

Their voice is a coo, one you can’t refuse as you nod your head vigorously, far too gone for words. Especially when they press down on the base of their cock and begin to press into you. Each inch is a stretch on its own, but with your own slick, the lubrication, and their work on you earlier, it’s not painful so much as it is you can tell it’s a stretch. You hiss out a swear, tossing your head to the side and resting a hand in your own hair to steady yourself as you bare your throat.

Bloodhound must appreciate the gesture because they’re full of purrs and coos, leaning down to kiss over the length of your throat and murmuring about how good you’re doing as they slip their cock in deeper and deeper. Until the knot is pressing to the rim of your sex but not yet pushing inside.

There’s a moment of break in the scene when they nuzzle over your jawline, “Tell me if I become too much, beloved. I feel I shall get carried away with you like this.”

It’s so honest, so gentle, that you manage a break in your haze to laugh softly. Gently, you nudge their cheek with your nose and press a soft kiss there as well as you murmur, “You’ve done worse than fuck me in the forest. You won’t break me, I promise. I know my safe word.”

Just a small amount of communication to ease their nerves. Going so far as to when they don’t reply to reach down and pinch their ass. That makes them yelp softly, huffing against your cheek before pressing one back to yours with a gentle rest of their forehead to yours as they settle back into the scene.

A single thrust and a snarl from their lips lets you know the game has begun once again. At first you try to be quiet as they pick up a nice pace, stubbornly biting your lip- but you should know by now that that won’t work. Slowly, moans begin seeping past your lips, until you’ve thrown your head to the side, lips parted and brows knitted with pleasure.

They must be feeling something too, judging by how they’re doing that cute little noise they do when they’re being touched. This huffy, soft little growl in their throat with every breath. And when you peek at them, you can see their own eyebrows knitted, eyes half lidded to watch your facial expression.

When you catch their eyes, Bloodhound holds the stare only momentarily before leaning in and capturing your lips. Nipping and biting at your lower lip that was already reddened from your own teeth. Threatening to break the soft flesh with their sharper teeth as they begin fucking into you harder.

Your moans flow into their mouth as their hands greedily grab at you. It’s only suddenly they break apart briefly, carefully pulling out and rolling you over with a reminder of their strength as they manipulate you like a doll onto all fours. Immediately, a hand rests in your hair, shoving your cheek down into the fur on the ground as they fit their cock back inside of you.

The new angle allows them to go deeper, making you practically squeal when their other hand reaches under to cup your mound and rub your clit in circles with their fingers. All the while Bloodhound growls in your ear praises and filth of, “You are going to be my breeding pet for as long as it needs to take.” “Such a good little thing.” “Thank your god for this blessing.”

To which you begin wailing, “Thank you, thank you, thank- th-thankYOU-!” As you begin to cum hard on their cock. Just two more thrusts before the knot slips into you, stretching you wider and making you feel yourself flexing and squeezing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Vaguely you can hear them moan behind you, struggling briefly before you feel the sizeable amount of ‘cum’ entering inside of you. You whine at the full feeling, rocking your hips back to feel it only to have their hands greedily hook over your hips and yank you flush to them.

“Do not spill anything.” They murmur, lazily rolling their own hips against your ass as if to make sure you’re holding still. You hum coyly in return, allowing your weight to rest in their hands as they help ease you down into lying on your abdomen with their thighs framing yours in an almost straddle.

“Aw, but if I spill some, doesn’t that mean we have to go again?” You tease back, tilting your head to the side to eye them from the side. Resting your cheek against your folded arms and smiling lazily at them as you catch them narrowing their eyes at you.

A gentle pinch to your cheek makes you smile as they huff at you, “Do not tempt me, my love.” Just a small threat as you flash a grin in return, lazy and tired as you rest your eyes.

“Mmh- did you cum, Hound?” Yawning at your own words, you peek open an eye to catch them nod briefly, watching them look away from you as if even admitting that was embarrassing.

Yawning once more, you nuzzle into your arms. “We should do this again. Maybe you can chase me a bit and tie me to a tree. Seems like something up your alley.”

And judging by the playful swat to your ass and a huff from your now flustered partner who just fucked you in the woods- you're going to take that as a solid Yes.

#Bloodhound #Bloodhound x Reader #Apex legends #Apex lemons #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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witchofthesouls · 4 years

Text

Ahhh I keep thinking about Fae!June and Mer!Soundwave in oceanside verse:

Mers are very social, touch-based beings, so putting one by themselves in a cage can lead them to madness since the water is considered empty and lifeless by seafolk. As well as becoming unkept since can be difficult for a mer to clean their armor segments by themselves.

Grooming is very important for mers. It’s necessary to keep their armor segments in proper alignment and growth and make sure it doesn’t turn into their flesh.

It’s a social and friendly gesture between pod members. However, to help with the areas around the head, neck, and spine is a very intimate gesture that’s reserved for very close bonds since it means “I trust you not to damage me.”

June doesn’t have armor, so Soundwave combs and fixes her hair as a sign of deep affection.

Later when they settled, he attaches pieces of his scales and carved sea glass, shells, and whalebone in her hair since the seaweed ornaments decay. (June keeps the polished stone hair ornaments, even though Soundwave thinks those are far too clunky and clumsy to wear.)

As an Abyssal mer, Soundwave’s fins are very sensitive to underwater currents since those waters are treacherous to steer, especially since there’s no light that deep.

Between the poachers and his rough transport, his fins had been badly mangled.

Soundwave can still swim but he won’t be able to return to the dark waters, let alone to where Kaon is located since he can’t navigate properly.

Mers have bioluminescent lights on their bodies. Those can run anywhere. They’re also used as communication, especially by Abyssal mers.

Soundwave has purple lines over his torso and some over his shoulders and arms. His dorsal fin is long and lit.

His face is covered by a mix of armor and flared audial fins. The bottom half is lit as well as those audial fins.

June learns to read Soundwave’s mood via biolights.

June didn’t fear putting herself “in danger” by hanging at the large aquarium since it was hers first, and should Soundwave attempted to drown or maul (didn’t occur to him since she left him alone) he would have been in a very nasty surprise.

June wasn’t upset that Soundwave ate all the fish. Those venomous fish weren’t pets at all, even as a child. But humans do have a strange aversion and fascination for toxic creatures, so she didn’t tell her husband what those fish were used for.

She didn’t tell her husband a lot of things...

When June realized Soundwave was attempting to court her, she had to step back a bit to think it over, and made the decision to hand him a pearl.

Fae are capricious, finicky creatures of nature and magic. To them, shapes and forms are a suggestion than a restriction; flitting to one object or person easily as a human changing their clothes.

To bite someone is a serious Declaration of Intention, it’s injecting their beloved with some their essence. A bitten fae can still change forms, but their magic is still “touched” by their lover/spouse. It must be maintained or the scar will fade away as biter’s essence diminishes from their body.

June can’t bite him until the iron collar is dealt with, or the backlash could kill them both, but she can give him someone close enough.

That “pearl” is a solidified form of her own essence; it acts as a devoted promise to him and a threat to others.

Her husband was grasping straws, he thought he could repair their relationship after the necklace (the collar). June remained courteous and kind, smiling and laughing, but he could see it in her eyes, that hunger when she watched the forest, that nothing worked. He thought of a child could heal them or at least soften her up with time.

He wanted to keep her by his side, happy and content. He wanted to show her that being human wasn’t bad, that it could be fulfilling. He wanted them to grow old together, their children with their own families...

(He was warned repeatedly what could happen if he tricked like this, if he decided to bind her in such a way. He didn’t listen.)

Soundwave knew when she was carrying. Her scent changed. June known as well, magic began to settle down deep to her womb.

They’re both curious how their child will turn out.

Liam is a Hellhound gifted to June by her mother when she was a little girl. He’s June’s familiar she had nurtured as a puppy.

Hellhounds are notoriously difficult to keep among magic-users since they’ll only bond to a master if raised as a puppy. And Hellhound pups require a constant source of cursed flames until they can maintain their forms solidly outside of a fire source.

When her husband bound her in ill-faith, she sent Liam back to the forest to her mother. Just in case.

When humans set the manor on fire, Soundwave was grimly prepared for the end...

But to his utter bewilderment, they were transported to the forest when her husband was killed by the collapsed ceiling via a happy, smoky hound.

Liam bowled over June to lick her face. Before turning to Soundwave, sniffing him, and doing the same since he can sense June’s pearl on him.

#transformers #merformers #June Darby #soundwave #Transformers Prime #tfp #fae #magic #courting behavior #mer culture #by the oceanside #maccadam #fae culture #implied violence

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brandyllyn · 3 years

Text

In our own image... (25)

Chapter 25

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 2100. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG).

"Stop that."

Finn froze, hand in the air. "Stop what?"

"Poking me."

"But you said it doesn’t hurt."

Poe turned his head, glaring at the man. "No, but it is annoying. Stop it."

Finn did it one more time. Of course he did. Pressing his fingers just under Poe’s ribs while staring at his face. "You’re telling me it doesn’t hurt at all?"

Poe leaned his head back, dropping the data pad he had been looking at with a clatter. "Do you want to see it?"

"No," Rey’s voice came from across the room.

"Yes," Finn’s eyes were wide when he nodded.

Sighing, Poe lifted the side of his shirt up to show Finn the smooth skin, not a mark on him. "Rey does good work, I highly recommend it." Finn touched the area lightly and Poe shivered, jerking away.

"You ticklish now?" Finn asked with a grin.

"He’s always been ticklish," the words floated from next to Rey and Poe glanced over at the woman who had said them. Kina’s eyes met his for a moment before she bit her lip and turned away.

Poe had woken from what felt like a dream with his head in Kina’s lap. Rey was next to them, looking exhausted. Both were lit by BB-8 who had all his new lights out and was whistling worriedly about him and something about getting shot. He hadn’t felt like he’d been shot. He’d felt pretty great actually. But he had no idea how he’d ended up on the floor of the Millennium Falcon and the looks of concerns on everyone’s faces had told him that something serious had happened.

Everything after that seemed to happen quickly. They had landed the Falcon on Garos - apparently now the closest planet - and dropped what he had been told were pirates off with the authorities, giving statements about what had happened. The local Marshall had looked like she might’ve had some questions about the state of the prisoners, so did Poe for that matter. But one look at Chewie’s face and she had just nodded, pointing out that the prisoners were wanted and thanking the group for the service of bringing them in.

Poe had insisted on going with them for that. Despite loud objections from basically everyone - including Beebs who was currently pressed to his calf and hadn’t moved in an hour. It was only when Poe had threatened to throw down with every one of them that the group had seemed to accept that he was okay.

There had been other things to do after that, of course. The pirates had messed around with some of the systems and those needed to be fixed before they could enter hyperspace. Poe had wanted to help with that too but at Rey’s insistence had taken a nap instead, crashing into the bunk with one hand resting on BB-8.

He glanced down at the droid, still by his side. He wasn’t entirely certain what had happened. The last week, it was like a drunken memory, periods of blackout and long stretches of having no clue what was going on. He’d asked, but every person gave him a slightly different answer. Rey said it was a form of mind control. Finn claimed it was seduction. Chewie said he’d been enchanted by evil sorceresses.

He hadn’t asked Kina.

Odd that. The last thing he really remembered was going to see the three Chasinian woman. As such, Kina was the most likely person to have answers but he was hesitant to talk to her. Not just because of their past - although that played a not inconsiderable part - but also because there was something about her that made his head spin, a memory right on the edge of his consciousness. And she kept giving him long, considering glances when she thought he wasn’t looking.

"Our course is laid in, everything looks good. Should be about two days back to base," Chewie announced as he walked into the commons. Poe nodded at him and the Wookie came over to put a hand on his shoulder. "It is good to have you back."

"Yeah about that," everyone in the room seemed to freeze except for Poe. "Is anyone going to tell me what happened?"

As one, everyone but him turned and looked at Kina, who still had her back to them. Rey nudged her with her elbow and Poe heard her sigh before she turned around. For just a moment it was like he was seeing two of her, but a quick shake of his head and the vision vanished.

"I’m not sure that’s a good idea," she whistled, the voice coming from the new cuff on her arm. Handy, that. He wondered if their relationship might not have imploded if she’d had it then. If it had been easier for them to talk.

"Why not?" he asked.

"It’s just," she looked at Rey as if for help but the other woman shrugged. Kina sighed. "I don’t now of anyone who has been through what you went through and… this is uncharted territory for me. I’m worried that there is a chance you might slip back."

"Back to what," Poe knew he was snappish but he was tired of them treating him like he was made of glass. "One minute I’m talking to three Chasinians, the next I’m on the Falcon and you say I’ve been shot. The clocks say it’s been nine days. Someone tell me what happened."

Kina looked at Rey one more time. "If he calls me mistress again I’m blaming you." The whistle was low, but translated at the same volume as everything else she said.

"If I what?" Poe looked at her incredulously.

Kina walked over, sliding into the booth across from him. She touched his hand for just a moment when she sat, then jerked it back and stared at her fingers like they had offended her. She sighed, something he noted she was doing a lot today. Then she started talking and Poe felt his eyebrows climbing higher and higher into his hairline as he listened to her. The others tossed in comments every once in a while - Finn mostly - and by the end of it his eyes were wide and he felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff.

"Let me see if I have this," he glanced around the room. "I was under the thrall of these three Chasinians, until you guys came to rescue me. Then I transferred all of my… devotion to Kina. We stopped for a bit and I was taken prisoner by pirates and got shot and now I’m okay."

He saw several people exchange looks before Kina replied, "That’s the gist of it, yes."

"I mean, if we’re gonna leave out all the super awkward touching and-" Finn started but Rey smacked him across the chest.

"We are."

"Huh," Poe grunted. "Maybe it’s for the best I don’t remember anything. Did I do anything embarrassing?"

"Yes."

"No."

"So much."

"It wasn’t that bad."

Poe looked between Chewie, Rey, Finn and Kina in turn before he sighed back into his seat. "You know what? I don’t actually want to know."

"That’s probably for the best," Rey smiled at him and he smiled back. Suddenly a thought occurred.

"So wait, what broke the thrall?" he asked, eyes darting around the room.

"You saved Kina," Finn said, nodding at the woman. "True love and all of that."

Poe felt his lips part and he turned but she was shaking her head. "No, not me." Her little half-smile was wry and she looked away from him, down by his legs. "BB-8."

The droid twirled at the sound of his name, lights flashing. "Thank you for saving me Friend Poe. But you should not do that."

Poe rubbed a hand along the droid. "Nah, I always got your back buddy. Besides, who else will keep the dark away?" He looked up and met Kina’s eyes and saw she was blinking back tears.

"Wait, your true love was Beebs?" Finn’s voice broke through the moment.

Kina rolled her eyes. "It has nothing to do with 'true love'. Just… love. In that moment, Poe chose someone he loved over what the Song was telling him to do."

"Yeah, but Beebs? He’s great and all but he’s just a droid." Finn still sounded dumbfounded.

Poe answered before Kina could. "He’s not just a droid. He’s my best friend."

BB-8 spun happily, light flashing rapidly. "You are my best friend as well Friend Poe."

He thought he heard Rey muffle a small 'aw' but he wasn’t certain. He did see Kina push herself away from the table and leave, several pairs of eyes following her.

"You gonna go after her?" Finn asked after a beat.

"Should I?" Three heads nodded at him. Poe’s brow furrowed. "What haven’t you told me?"

"Go to her," Rey said instead, laying a hand on his wrist.

He found her in the cargo bay, sitting on top of a crate with her face in her hands. K-0 was near her feet, spinning in worried circles.

"Poe help," the droid said as soon as it saw him. "Poe help Kina."

"Oh am I Poe now?" He replied good naturally, focusing on the droid while Kina wiped at her eyes. He let her have the moment, crouching down and holding a hand out to K-0 who regarded it dubiously.

"What want?"

"I was just gonna give you a pat hello, if that was okay," Poe responded, hand still outstretched.

Cautiously, K-0 moved towards him until just Poe’s fingertips touched the droid. When he ran a gentle stroke over the sensor array the droid leaned into it for a moment before jolting upright and backing away. "No more."

"No more," he agreed, holding his hands up and standing. His elbow was around the top of the crate which made it easy for him to lean on it while he looked at Kina. "So, I think maybe you and I might need to talk."

"About what?" The whistle was shaky, said around a sniffle and she wiped the back of her hand across her nose.

Poe turned his back to the crate, leaning on both elbows and staring off in the same direction she was. "I don’t know. But I get the impression that having all of my devotion wasn’t the bang up experience everyone expects it to be."

Kina snorted and he smiled. "It was… an experience," she said after a moment. "But it wasn’t you."

"What do you mean?"

"It was your face and your body and your voice," Kina explained. "But it wasn’t you. I could see bits of you in there but…" She reached over and laid a hand on his forearm. "All the things I like about you weren’t there."

Like. Not liked. Poe took a deep breath and covered her hand with his, still not looking at her. "I owe you a thank you. For-"

She cut him off, squeezing his arm. "You don’t. You really don’t. I would have…" He waited while she found her words. "I would have done a lot more."

"I also think I might owe you an apology."

He felt the stir in the air when she turned and he lifted his head to look up at her. Maker she was beautiful, possibly even more so than the last time he’d seen her. "For what?"

"That day, when you tried to explain to me… about droids. I wasn’t really listening to you." Her eyebrows raised and he gave her a half smile. "I thought you wanted me to, I don’t know, set all the droids free or something."

"Maybe someday," she said with a smile. "But all I wanted right then was for you to see."

"Yeah," he nodded. "I get that now. And I do. See, that is."

Kina’s smile widened and she looked across the room where K-0 and BB-8 were in vehement conversation with each other, although their beeps and whistles were low enough that they couldn’t be heard. "I know. You were willing to die for BB-8. That’s… that’s more than I could ever have expected of you."

Poe shrugged, lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. "Well, like I said, he’s my best friend."

Kina nodded and they stayed there for a bit in silence before he felt her move, her boots hitting the ground next to him.

"I think it’s approaching dinner, we should go back."

"Hey," he caught her arm and when she turned she was close. Close enough that he could feel the heat of her body. Close enough that it would only take the smallest movement to lean in and kiss her.

He shook his head of the thought. "I’m sorry I couldn’t see in time. For us."

She bit her lip and he watched as she raised a hand to his cheek. "Me too."

Chpt 26

#poe dameron #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron / ofc #star wars fanfiction #star wars sequels #if i were honest #i'd tag this poe / bb-8

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amandaoftherosemire · 4 years

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The Perfect Fit

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,062

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, mild angst, fluff, implied smut, oh so much fluff, adult and light sexual situations.

Summary: Steve Rogers always seems to be wearing shirts that are way too tight for your peace of mind. One day you get the whole story.

A/N: The meta regarding Steve’s smedium shirts inspired this light little one-shot. I had the time to finish one thing this week and wanted to show Steve some love since it’s been awhile. I’m in a mood to smother him in fluff, so here we go.

The Perfect Fit

You came skidding to a halt in the communal kitchen, a sweaty t-shirt in your hand, and a hooting crow on your lips. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Surprisingly, several members of the team were still there. Bucky and Sam were plowing through a massive pile of eggs and bacon while Natasha and Wanda delicately spooned up the oatmeal and berries porridge Vision had made with Wanda's supervision. Delighted to have such an audience, you held up your prize.

"Size small! He wears size fucking small t-shirts!" You were shaking the t-shirt in your fist, your voice strident with mock insult but wobbling with repressed laughter. "I fucking told you guys!"

Natasha stood up. "Let me see." She held her hand out for the shirt, then, sneering at the sweat, took it between the fingernails of her thumb and forefinger. Looking at the label printed on the inside of the shirt, she raised a brow. "Nonsense," she scoffed. She had been sure he wore at least a medium. Her eyes met yours, and the amused exasperation there matched how you felt exactly. Medium could be explained.

Small was simply gratuitous.

"Doll," Bucky started as Natasha delicately handed the shirt back to you and returned to her oatmeal, "so he wears small shirts. What's your point?"

"Yeah, doll," said an unamused voice behind you, "what is your point?"

On the premise that a good defense is a good offense, you spun around to shake the shirt in Steve's face. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, evidence he'd hopped out of the shower to chase you down when you stole the t-shirt from the locker room after his morning workout.

Unfortunately for you, he was also wearing nothing but the gray sweats he’d hurriedly tugged on, leaving you even more distracted by Steve's chest than usual. Normally you at least had a size small t-shirt between your eyes and all… that… muscle. Your fingertips itched to touch, which is why size small offended you so much.

The least he could do is not be so fucking tempting all the damn time.

“Size small, my ass! You’re the size of a semi-truck!” You went on the attack, trying to make it about the fact that he wore ridiculously small shirts considering his size. Hell, it was like he picked everything he wore based on how much his chest stretched the fabric.

You shot Bucky a vicious look when he called out, "Yeah, but why do you care?"

"I'm not saying I do," you retorted haughtily. "I just wanted to prove that Cap wears a size small even though that's insane. Why he does so is up for debate."

"So, what's your theory, beautiful?" Sam asked, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up in pure merriment. He was hopeful that if he and Bucky pushed you in the right way you'd finally give up and admit to Steve you had a thing for him. If you did that, maybe they could push Steve into admitting he had an almost painful crush on you. And then maybe the rest of them could stop walking through the mutual pining clouds.

You scanned Steve's chest, trying and failing to keep your gaze from heating. Even Steve couldn't miss the pure sexual appreciation that raked his body along with your eyes. His heart picked up at the thought that maybe you were more receptive than he'd thought.

You'd always been playful, but carefully detached. You were never unfriendly, but you always remained carefully separate. He was beginning to wonder, based on the speed of your heart as your eyes roved over his chest, if your aloof demeanor hid a secret.

"I think he's showing off," you laughed. You winked and tossed the shirt back to him. "And who can blame him?"

The last thing you saw before you sauntered out, figuring there was no way you were going to get a better exit line, was Steve's blushingly pleased smile.

Much, much later, well into the evening, you sat reading in the library. The stereo was on low, as were the lights but for the reading lamp over your shoulder. You were staring at the page, but you weren't really seeing it, too focused on the memory of Steve's smile that morning. Could he see that it was more than just harmless flirting? Could he tell that it was more for you? If he could, did he like it?

Should you ask? Or leave it be? If Steve was interested, he was more than capable of making a move. You’d always kept a deliberate platonic barrier between yourself and your colleagues, however, wary of mixing the personal and professional. Should you make it clear you’d be receptive? Were you receptive? Were you making an exception in this case? It was Steve, after all. Sweet, kind, amazing Steve. Wouldn’t anyone make an exception for him?

The sound of the door opening and closing as someone came into the room had goosebumps inexplicably running over your skin. You scolded yourself that it could be anyone, that just because your unruly heart was jumping up and down didn't mean Steve had come in. Even if it was Steve, that didn’t mean he was looking for you.

"There you are." Steve's voice, warm and friendly, had you melting like chocolate on the tongue. He sounded happy to see you and had you beaming a welcoming smile back as you looked up from your book.

"Here I am," you flirted, your smile taking on a hint of the coquette as he came further into the room. Fuck it; you were making an exception.

His cheeks went pink. It was the cutest fucking thing you'd ever seen. Big frat-bro looking men like this shouldn't be so bashful and blushy. It wasn't fucking fair. "Is it okay if I join you?" he asked gently, as though there was a universe in which you were capable of saying no.

"Of course," you said incredulously, grinning at him. Still pink and smiling, he settled onto the couch next to you.

"I wanted to tell you the real reason I have so many small shirts."

You felt a rush of chagrin at the thought that you might have hurt his feelings. You’d been teasing, flirting, and hated the idea that you may have inadvertently caused pain. Without thinking, you reached out to touch his knee with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry if you thought I was complaining.” You chuckled a little and opted to flirt more overtly than was your usual so he’d could see you’d meant the whole thing as a joke. “‘Have you seen how good I look in size small t-shirts?' is more than enough reason for me, Steve.”

Steve looked down at your hand on his knee; the warmth seeming to seep into his skin. He practically lived for the accidental brush of your skin against his; your deliberate touch made his heart race. Which is why, when your gaze followed his and you started to pull away, he couldn’t stop his own hand from coming up to cover yours and stop your retreat.

Your breath caught and your eyes lifted to his adorably pink face. He looked both embarrassed and terrified as he smiled, a little weakly, at you. Your heart pounding like a drum, you threw caution to the winds and smiled fully at him as you turned your hand in his until you were palm to palm with him.

The smile that lit up his face in response nearly blinded you. "Still," he said, his face turning shy as he looked down at his hand closing gently around yours, "it's because I'm terrified of department stores."

You frowned a little in confusion. “Why?” You ducked your head a little to try and catch his eye.

Steve couldn’t resist the sweet expression on your face, couldn’t help but smile shyly into your eyes when you squeezed his hand gently.

“They're so complicated,” he confessed, a little ashamed. You could hear the genuine anxiety in his voice and you almost sighed as you melted. “There’s so much stuff and a lot of it doesn't make sense.”

Steve kept going, not noticing that the pink staining his perfect cheeks, the shy, sweet curve to his lips, the bashful, embarrassed dip to his eyelids was absolutely destroying you. Now that he was telling someone, he couldn’t stop, the words tumbling out.

“I just grab whatever looks closest to what I need and escape.” He shrugged, a lost look in his eyes as he imagined it. "I grab small because for a lot of my life, even the smallest stuff was too big. I'm in panic mode, so I don't think, I just grab and go."

"Oh my god," you muttered, practically losing your mind at how unbelievably fucking cute he was. You could barely resist Steve as it was; this sweet, lost softness was demolishing what little resistance you still possessed. It was taking everything you had to not crawl into his lap. "How are you this…" You trailed off, not able to articulate how much you adored him in this moment.

Steve thought for a moment that you were disgusted with him and the sick feeling that caused in his stomach only intensified when you pulled your hand out from under his. He existed in an endless moment of torment until your hands came up to cup his face. His eyes lifted and caught yours and in the next moment he was drowning in the affection he found there.

"…perfect." Your voice was breath of devotion. Something about his vulnerability made you feel like you could be vulnerable back and you heard yourself saying, your voice an ache of sound, "Steve, is it okay if I kiss you?"

Steve couldn’t understand, lost and confused by your sudden overt adoration. "Why?"

Your eyebrows lifted both at the question and at the look of surprise on Steve's face. Apparently, you weren't the only one not thinking before you spoke this evening. It gave you even more courage. "Because I've wanted to almost since I met you and I can't keep my mouth shut about it anymore."

The next moment Steve’s lips were on yours and you were sighing giddily into his mouth as your arms slid gently around his neck and his came around your waist. He had you folded close almost immediately, delighted with both your answer and the feel of your body against his. Your last resistance had crumbled, and you'd slid into his lap as you'd pulled yourself close to him.

"Y/n," he chuckled gently when you pulled your lips from his to brush them all over his sweet face, "I would love for you to kiss me."

You heard yourself giggle and if his smile had been less cheerful, you would have been embarrassed to hear yourself make such a noise. Steve looked overjoyed, however, at being the inspiration for such a happy sound bubbling out of you and you couldn't resent or regret it.

You also couldn't resist his eyes when the sadness lifted, when he was looking at you with the lightness of the young man he was never allowed to be. You'd had a girly crush on him for what felt like forever, and the sight of his happiness, because of you, left you reeling. You decided not to question your good fortune, opting instead to take him at his word. Your lips met his and you sank into his kiss with a hum.

Steve couldn't have been happier with the direction this conversation had gone. He’d meant merely to take an opportunity to talk to you, put your relationship on a more friendly footing by sharing a part of himself with you. He'd never expected to reap this kind of reward.

Your world narrowed to Steve, and in his solid yet gentle arms you found a soft and generous place where nothing existed but the two of you. His lips tenderly coaxed yours apart until his tongue was sweeping in and you were tasting the honey sweetness and cinnamon spice of his mouth. Soft plump lips gave enough to leave you obsessed almost immediately. If you’d known kissing Steve would be like this, you’d never have waited this long.

Sweetness held sway as your lips and tongues tangled together. Almost innocently, his hands moved from your back, one down to your hip to squeeze tight and pull you close, the other up to cup to the back of your neck.

Your arms were tight around his neck, your hands buried in thick blond hair. For a long, beautiful moment you simply caressed his lips with your own, tasting his mouth, breathing his breath, bright and joyous.

All too soon, your hands started to clench with heat rather than only warmth, his soft hair tempting you to use it for leverage to tilt his head for a deeper, hotter angle. His hand at your hip was gripping and releasing as he pulled you closer to his chest. His arms tightened as innocent affection heated until he was hard as iron beneath you.

You pulled back to look at Steve and the expression there took your breath away. Flushed and pretty, his lips were swollen from yours and parted to let gasps of excitement escape. His bright blue eyes were shining with both desire and affection and had you feeling like you were falling in to drown. You nuzzled your mouth and nose against his as you shifted and breathed, “Steve?”

“Yeah?” he breathed back, his eyes fluttering at the feel of your ass rubbing against his erection as you shifted in his lap. You couldn't help yourself; you found him both sweet as sugar and so sexy you were having to stop yourself from ripping his too tight shirt off.

"Should I ever" --you stopped to brush your lips over his pretty pink cheek-- "suspect that" --you kissed his other cheek-- "you are wearing" --his left eyelid-- "any size shirt” --his right eyelid-- "other than small" --the right corner of his mouth-- "I will sneak into your room" --the left corner of his mouth-- "remove the offending garment…"

Now that you were at his mouth, you couldn't resist it and you trailed off to sink in again with another hum of enjoyment. After another long, even more heated kiss that had you wondering how he'd respond if you invited him back to your rooms, you broke the kiss gently to finish in a whisper against his lips, "…and replace it with one of the proper size. Clear?"

Steve's smile spread, slow and wickedly sexy. "Yes, ma'am." He took your lower lip between his teeth and purred in his throat. You were astonished to find you could actually feel yourself clench in excitement at the sound. "You don't need to sneak, though," he murmured against your mouth, his voice both an ache and a temptation. "You're always welcome."

Steve was nearly blinded by your smile, and his mind nearly blanked by the slow roll of your hips, when you replied, breathless, “Is tonight too soon?”

Steve could barely believe that his inability to shop could lead to this. He'd been pining away for you, certain he'd only make you uncomfortable should he confess his feelings. To hear you offer him all he'd wanted, just that simple, made his heart race.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and the dimming of your smile had him kissing you quickly and grinning into your face to show you he was teasing. “If I say yes, you’ll discover my secret right away.”

Now that you knew he was flirting rather than rejecting, you teased back, your fingers combing through his hair, fingernails dragging gently over his scalp. “I love secrets,” you breathed into his ear. “Do tell.”

Steve’s eyes were rolling back in his head as his hand slid up and down the outside of your thigh, the heat of his palm seeping easily through the denim into your skin, setting it aflame. He adored the tingling pleasure of your hands in his hair, the shivers from your breath on his skin.

“I have plenty of shirts that fit,” he confessed, his voice low and tight with lust. You were rocking your body seductively against him as your grin spread. “Thanks to Nat, because I really am hopeless in department stores.” You narrowed your eyes in amused suspicion when he shrugged sheepishly. “I only wear the small stuff around you.”

You sat back, a little surprised, but utterly charmed, both by the confession and the sweet pink all over his face as he made it. “You wanna wear me?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of it, though when you could you wanted to take back the crude phrasing rather than the sentiment.

Not that it mattered when Steve’s arms were sliding under you as his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek jumping and inexplicably making your underwear wet. He stood in a burst of motion, carrying you quickly toward the door.

“Your bed or mine?” he growled, and the relief had you fastening your mouth at his neck to taste the salt of his skin. Your arms were tight around his shoulders, one hand in his hair, the other with your fingertips caressing the soft skin in the hollow of his throat.

You answered against his skin, your voice a rasping ache, “Against the wall for all I care." Steve shuddered and burst into the next thing to a run when your voice breathed the words he’d never thought to hear but ached for, nonetheless. “Steve,” you whispered, “I just want you.”

Now that he was hearing them, nothing could stand in his way.

A gloriously long time later, Steve lay on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling with a decidedly smug grin on his face. His big warm palm was smoothing up and down your spine and if you were still solid, it’d be melting you. As it was, his lovemaking had left you boneless and satisfied. You were cheerfully draped across the bare chest that had so obsessed you.

You lifted your head to smile into Steve’s pretty face. “Perfect fit.”

The End

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#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel au #mcu au #the perfect fit #pantswrites #one shot

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solesurvivorpaigeargot · 4 years

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Loving Stupid - Chapter One: Sanctuary [Fallout 4 Fanfiction]

HELLOOO Tumblr! Now that I’ve got this blog up and running, I wanted to do what I could to expand the exposure of my fic and get it around to new readers. While it’s already up on Fanfiction.net , it seems to me that the majority of the community prefers Ao3 or reading directly here on Tumblr. So, I figure why not post it over here as well?

Though a heads up that this first chapter was first written entirely for personal enjoyment, and then a friend I showed it to encouraged me to expand upon the story cause they wanted to see more of the ship. XD It’s uh... lil spicy. Or lemony, depending on how old you are and how far back your fic vocab goes.

Story Title: Loving Stupid

Story Summary: Paige [Sole Survivor] and Hancock venture into the Glowing Sea in pursuit of a lead on the Institute, when a catastrophic equipment failure forces them to separate.

Rating: MATURE

Content Warnings for this Chapter: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing

Content Warnings for story overall: Sexual content, drugs, alcohol, cursing, violence, blood, injury, needles, limb mutilation

Genre: .... erotic romance-adventure? IDK shit goes down and there’s some spicy scenes, but also a lot of character building and relationship stuff. I’m bad at genre assessment. Open to suggestions XD

.:_Sanctuary_:.

“So these are your digs, huh? … can't say it's my speed.”

“Not historical enough?”

“Nah, it's...”

Paige watched Hancock's face twist as he struggled to pick out what word fit his distaste, ghoulish features creating sharp valleys along fault lines in leathery skin while the shiny dark of his eyes appraised the home she'd built atop one of the empty foundations of Sanctuary Hills.

It wasn't anything special, wooden planks coaxed together into floors, walls, and roofing with nails and elbow grease. This was the only settlement where Paige had a place that was specifically hers, where she kept the little knickknacks and oddities she collected; all dutifully looked after by Codsworth-- ever dedicated to his task two centuries after it had been assigned to him. She'd given some life to the wooden bones of the shack, however; recycled fabrics became rugs and curtains with only mildly clashing patterns, and she even managed to cobble a number of worn out flannel shirts into a workable set of sheets for a double-wide bed that was, in truth, just a pair of smaller mattresses pushed together to pretend they were a queen size.

What could she say? She liked to sprawl.

Generators lit up Sanctuary at night with bare bulbs, and her little shack was no different. It brought yellow light against the dark, and reflected off a multitude of glass bottles, lined up on the shelves of a bureau she'd rescued, mostly intact, from the home of a long-dead neighbor. Whiskey, vodka, wine-- she jokingly called it her liqueur cabinet, despite the thing not having doors to lock the alcohol behind.

She'd done her best to make this a where place she could sleep soundly, when she was in the area. It was little more than a bed, a roof, and a lot of junk on shelves; insulated from the outside world with some sewn-together fabric scraps... but stepping over the threshold always made her feel like she'd entered a sort of... bubble. Not safe-- nowhere was safe-- but... quiet.

She could pretend, here.

“Comfortable.” Hancock decided, grousing out the word. “Damn near cozy-- you put this together?”

“With my own two hands.” She informed him; trust Hancock to find an issue with comfort-- then again, she couldn't blame him. Comfortable people had a habit of being complacent people, and they both knew that was where a lot of ugliness could happen... but his opinion didn't stop her from stepping inside and divesting herself of the pieced together armor that she layered over a set of somewhat over-sized army fatigues, reclaimed after clearing an old base of ferals. There was a wooden bin by the door for that stuff; she'd have to strap it all back on in the morning... but for now she was grateful to take a load off, starting with an enameled metal helmet.

“I've watched those hands beat faces to a bloody pulp. I didn't figure they could sew.”

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes as she heard him trudge inside anyhow, metal door closing behind him, and set herself to the straps that kept her secured within the bits of metal and leather that frequently kept her alive on the road. Left arm first, a metal shoulder piece coming loose, and the whole ritual making her feel as if she were shedding skin.

She didn't tell him that she might have been a housewife a few centuries ago-- that was a different life. The idea that someone could live so cushy as to devote themselves to home-making and nothing else was a fever dream in this age, and while Hancock probably had enough chems in his pockets to attempt imagining it, she didn't feel like trying to paint the picture for him.

She didn't want to know what he'd think of her, knowing just how... comfortable she'd been.

“I'm a woman of many talents.” She snarked instead as another heavy piece of metal thumped into the bin, freeing up the shoulder beneath to roll and stretch. “Don't worry about getting used to it-- this is a one night stop. First thing in the morning, I'm seeing to the upgrades on the armor, and then back on the-- ah--”

Hands-- surprisingly strong hands despite withered skin that clung to spindly bones. She didn't know how that worked-- Hancock wasn't a big man, and the ghoulishness made her think he'd be frail... instead he'd hefted a flamer onto his back when he set out with her, and carried it from one end of the Commonwealth to the other without complaint. Finding those hands suddenly assisting with undoing the straps at her sides so that her chest piece could come loose was a surprise; simple and sure movements causing the scavenged military combat armor to come loose and slide forward. Without an anchor, it slid forward until the hard edge of the back plate caught on her neck and stopped it from simply falling to the floor. Meanwhile, Hancock's hands had slid in along her ribs, pressing firmly into the rough fabric and reminding her that they were, for the first time in a while, blissfully alone.

“I'm aware of that.”

Her lips pressed together-- a low sigh was expressed with his rough whisper in her ear. She swore he knew how much that got to her, despite her very deliberately not telling him. It was a struggle not to react, not to lean back as he reeled her in, those spidery hands easily finding their way upwards beneath the hanging breastplate and his chin perching on her shoulder. He'd pulled them together, his body against hers, and punctuated the move with a mischievous chuckle.

“Sometimes a little too talented-- doin' everything yourself, despite having a public servant waiting in the wings.” He teased her. “Let a ghoul help, eh sister?”

It wasn't entirely unexpected, nor unwelcome, but his eagerness was something that caught her off guard. She usually had something to say, something sly to come back with, but for some reason all she could focus on was the ticklish clutch of her gut as his fingers gathered up the material of her shirt in their traveling to her bust, squeezing fitfully enough to expose an inch of skin at her belly.

“Hancock--” She muttered, squirming slightly, but not in earnest. “C'mon, we've got the whole night--”

“That's right.” He agreed, but it was with an entirely different tone. One hand remained up, keeping her tight to him, while the other traveled down. The thin ribbon of skin that had been exposed was soon graced with the specific texture of his skin; rough, but not terribly so. Like callous, only it was all over; somewhat leathery and unique. His entire palm invaded through that opening, hard against her belly as fingertips sought out a path further south. “We've got the whole night-- and I didn't plan on wastin' any of it...” His fingers were ruthless once they found purchase, shoving past the tight fit provided by a belt she was wearing. “Did you?”

Her breath shuddered. No part of her wanted to tell him no-- the rush was enough to make her ignore the metal edge digging into the back of her neck, and forget how doggedly exhausted she'd been after their long trek here... particularly lugging her own weight in lead along the way.

In her hesitation, he'd gotten far enough to make a more intimate contact-- damnably persistent, like ivy finding the cracks in brickwork to wheedle its way in.

He pressed in against her, too certain to be deterred by straps and clothes. Barriers had been passed without any show of manners, knowing her well enough that if he was unwanted she would have thrown him off by now... and getting a sweet gasp as his reward.

“There we go.” His smile was evident in his tone-- no, not a smile, a grin-- a smug, shit-eating grin. She could imagine how it looked on his face, and knew he'd be wearing it for hours just to make her glare at him.

It didn't matter. Everything he'd done so far was just testing the water in his puckish, incorrigible way. Now he had her, and his wrist twisted as he worked that hand just a little further into her pants before slipping a fingertip against soft flesh. The motion was a sort of rocking of his hand, sliding the single offending finger down between sensitive lips before drawing back upwards with the tip pressed in, working up a little warmth in general and offering up a little tantalizing pressure to wake up the sweet spot for later, stroking her like that as his hips pitched against hers to turn her away from the bin next to the door and instead face her against the closed portal they'd entered through, reinforcing that he had her.

Without thinking, her right hand came out to brace against the door. Cold metal barely registered, just that it gave her something to push back against as he leaned in harder against her back, idly kneading her breast as he stroked her beneath restrictive layers of cloth and leather.

“O-oh... damnit, Hancock--”

“I was thinking fuck it, actually.” He smirked, still right by her ear for that quip before finally leaning back the necessary inches and releasing her breast to help her get her armor the rest of the way off, falling to the floor with a hard thud instead of getting placed in the bin. Pitching his shoulders back, hips pressed forward, grinding against her to advertise himself against her rump. “... just like this...” He added, losing a little breath as he suggested it, that free hand of his coming right back as if magnetically drawn, this time landing at the top of her hip and sliding upwards to expose a few more inches of skin-- his palm on her back, pushing with his surprising strength to encourage her to bend forward.

Bend over, actually.

She got his meaning, groaning softly as his stroking remained steady. She didn't resist the push, her hand shifting against the wall as her body dipped lower and her own free hand fumbled with the latch for her belt. The strip of leather resisted her, frustrating her fingers for a few agonizing moments as the sensation of his hand brought on another faint sigh, slipping against her with more ease as her body reflected her own eagerness; building with the anticipation. Then, finally, she managed to yank it just the right way for the latch to loose, the pressure of having his hand shoved in where it was such a tight fit relived, and further tugging releasing the subsequent button and zipper before they became obstacles... and before her hands became utterly uncooperative.

The loosened hem could be yanked down on his side, exposing more precious skin to the evening chill that crept in through the walls. Gnarled knuckles hooked on the hem, and fingertips got her underwear in the same dragging motion that demanded quick access. The lower she bent, the more he leaned against her, miming what would come in due time. It wasn't until he had her ass bare, pants and underwear drug down below the swell of her hips, that he finally pulled his own body back the inches necessary to attend to a few layers of fabric himself... but he didn't let off touching her as quickly. The hand that exposed her lingered, fingertips ghosting the sensitive skin just below the curve of her rump and sending a tingle across her skin, before his weathered palm pressed up and squeezed hard, his thumb sliding up to the top of her hip while his fingers rotated down. Finally, he finished up the groping with a light swat, chuckling behind her.

“Fuck you look so good like this...” He marveled, and she could hear layers of fabric moving against each other. “I just wanna wreck you.”

“Shut up and-- nnnnnnnh--”

She couldn't see him, but she felt him; hard and hot against her skin, pressed first between her thighs before he adjusted himself upwards. His finger's rubbing of her had paused, that hand simply anchored there as, from the rear, he worked himself against her, dragging the tip of himself this way and that until he found just the right angle to slick himself up with her excitement... and making her crave him in the process as she flexed her hips back towards him, trying to make it easier for him.

Somehow, some fucking how, she'd gone from exhausted to needy in the span of only a few minutes. It was the kind of eagerness that usually belonged to the young and dumb-- insanity she thought she'd left behind in her teen years, but he always found a way to draw it out of her.

She had no idea how he did that, but she never wanted it to change.

“Yeah?” His voice had dropped, the word barely differentiated from the heavy sigh it was carried out on. “C'mon, you can moan for me... no one's gonna hear you this time...”

More of him, pressing between wet lips-- and then more; there was resistance, going for it quick like this always meant it was a little rough, but it was the kind of sensation that left her gasping aloud as she went from craving that feeling of him to having him sink into her and remind her just how good it felt. Imagination, memory-- it always fell short, not quite living up to what it was in the immediate reality of the moment. Friction and heat, bound up in an intimate need-- just as addicting as any of the chems he slipped into her pockets whenever he thought she looked strung out.

Out of reflex, her jaw clenched tight, denying the urge to moan aloud and her body clenching around him instead. Both hands had applied themselves to the wall, and her breath shook as teeth ground together, resisting.

“Oh shit-- fuck-- if you squeeze me like that, I'm gonna...”

His hips bucked forward after a short draw back, the hand he'd been using to guide himself against her now finding its way to anchor at the crease that formed between her hip and her body as she bent against the wall, yanking her tight against him with the same motion before coming to a sharp stop. She could feel him inside, throbbing and thick, and the jolt made her jaw drop open for a short exclamation to escape her.

Buried, he began to rub her from the front again, abandoning the long strokes he'd used to warm her up and instead zeroing in on where she was most sensitive. Where his opening moves had all been about pressure with maximum contact, he changed tactics to only flick across her with the tip of his finger, instigating another tightening of her body as her resistance to making noise produced a shudder instead.

“D-don't--” She finally managed to murmur. “Oh God-- Hancock, you don't have to--”

This was a quickie-- an opener. She didn't expect this kind of attention; he always made up for it later, after a little Jet got him going again. This was usually the part where he took her by the hips with both hands and went to town, but instead he held her to keep them both tightly together, all while--

“F-fuck--” A whispered curse, kept lower than a murmur, followed by a greedy breath. He wasn't letting up, despite her telling him he didn't need to bother. She tried to push herself back against him, to antagonize him, but his fingers only tightened their grasp on the side of her hip as he leaned forward over her, ensuring that he was the one in control.

A defined clutch passed through her, centered at her core.

“Oh fuck-- mmmm--!”

“There you go... c'mon, let it out...” He coaxed her, rocking himself back in another short motion before jolting back into her again, letting out a guttural sound of his own as he did so. “Lemme hear you...”

It was an old habit to hold back, to grit her teeth and hold her breath-- anything to keep quiet. Her own fingers, once splayed open against the metal door, curled inwards into fists as the sensation built up, deep and desperate gasps getting drawn in through her nose as her jaw remained tightly closed, lips pressing hard against each other as she hummed and swallowed. Her head dropped down, his touch taking more and more of her focus.

Old habits were hard to break, but he was a new habit. One that liked to push at her old habits and see how long they'd stick.

Toes curled inside her boots, eyes closed without thinking. There was no thinking-- no, just her perception of him; the weight of his body against hers, the grip of his hand, and sound of his breath, all as her body underwent jolts that made her hips continue to try and rock back against his, one of her hands eventually lifting and banging back onto the door as the sensation turned briefly sharp, jaw loosing for a raw gasp between her lips and a guttural groan. “F-Fuck Hancock, you're gonna--- oh-- oh-- shit--”

“Rub you raw?” He completed the thought she was trying to articulate, drawing in a heavy breath of his own. His own hips rocked now, a minimal motion of a man that could barely help himself. “Wouldn't... wouldn't dream of it... just love the way you squeeze...”

The rocking changed things, introduced that delightful sensation that scratched the ineffable itch he'd aroused in her. Pressure and friction as he kept up his assault on her sensitivity made her knees wobble with a threat to give out, breath viciously driven out of her lungs in a single erotic moan.

“Fuck...” He murmured emphatically. “Sing for me babe... it's so pretty...” He encouraged her, pressing his face against the back of her neck as he kept a steady tempo. He was fully against her, laid over her back and abandoning his grasp on her hip to reach forward, those thin fingers of his stealing beneath the buttoned blouse of her fatigues and taking a demanding grasp on her breast; stalled only momentarily by the worn elastic band of her bra. The heel of his hand ground upwards at first, pressing in against her ribs, before he was pulling on her again, ensuring she remained anchored against him as he kept up the rocking motion he'd adopted over more conventional thrusting.

“Ah... ah shit... shit- shit-- J-John, oooooh... oh fuu...”

She lost the thread of why she'd been protesting in the first place. Her jaw fell open, and another moan came out; louder as everything began to come together. The movement, his insistent grasp, that very specific sense of fullness within her body and the craving it both satisfied and aggravated at the same time--

“Yeah?” He breathed against her ear. “You gettin' there, sweet thing? … good... I wanna feel it... And once you're over the edge, I'm gonna rail you until I burst.”

A thrill ran through her, like electricity that danced along her spine. Now that he'd articulated his intention, she wanted it, too.

“C-close...” She whimpered, nodding her head faintly. “J-just like that... l-little higher... rub a little higher... little circles around my-- oh- oh god- there- fuck yes-- there--!!”

Feverishly murmured coaching that directed his stroking where the craving was strongest sent her further than she expected to go, her head and chest dipping lower as her elbows bent and her forearms joined her hands in being braced against the door, a defined shaking running through her person as she went up to her toes and the rubber soles of her boots dug into the floor, further flexing her hips back in the desperation to have that sense of fullness as her body seemed to anchor itself on where they were intertwined. More than just laying open, her jaw stretched for her cry out with the rush.

His grip on her changed. He wasn't leaned over her anymore, but pitched back as both of his hands found their way to her hips.

God, she could feel him; the meeting of their bodies dominated her brain as she felt him throb within her shortly before he changed to much more active motions. There, again, was that surprising strength as he drew back and adjusted himself just low enough to begin taking her roughly, groaning between sharp breaths as his hips shocked against her rump with every thrust.

Her body was still squeezing, still rippling from what he'd just put her through, aware of the force in his every motion as he drove into her tightly clenched core.

“A-aah... aaanngh--!!”

A hitch, and his voice gave out for a more primal noise, his motions growing more hurried as she felt his nails digging into her hips. There'd probably scratches to attend to later-- not the first time. His breath juddered, followed by a gasp before it was held a moment. All at once, everything came to a halt, a shuddering swell moving up through his flesh that came shortly before a certain warmth spread within her; passed from him to her.

He claimed a sharp breath after, followed by a relieved exhale as his hands loosened. He didn't release her just yet, but he wasn't clutching quite so hard anymore.

“...shit that felt too good...” He muttered faintly as she tried to regain her own breath. One hand and forearm remained braced on the door, but the other had released to reach backwards for him, flexing her fingers to show she desired another kind of contact, and getting one of his hands in return for the non-verbal gesture. Once intertwined, she squeezed him, and let out a faint and almost girlish giggle.

“Too good...?” She quested, surprised he'd ever entertain the concept.

“Damn right.” He lobbed back, squeezing in return. “It's the kind of good a guy gets addicted to... Gotta find us some privacy a little more often.”

Don't have to tell me twice.

This was about the point where bodies needed to come apart; signaled by their hands drifting away from one another after that comforting squeeze... but that process was interrupted.

There was a knock at the metal door Paige was braced up against.

“General? Do you have a moment?”

… Preston, your timing is a disaster.

She recognized the voice in a heartbeat, and it was exactly the sort of person who had previously voiced his disapproval of her and Hancock's partnership... and he didn't even know about the more intimate details of said partnership. There was a shock associated to hearing his voice at this particularly compromised moment, one that made her face flush as she was excessively thankful for the solid door between them.

More thankful that he hadn't shown up a few minutes ago, when he might have heard a thing or two through that door.

Behind her, she more felt than heard Hancock's muted chuckle.

“I'm a little occupied at the moment, Garvey.” Paige answered back through the door; not entirely a lie. “Is it urgent?”

“Just a couple questions I'd like to ask, that's all.” Preston's voice answered back. “Security concerns.”

That was code for yes, it's urgent to me. Preston had been very particular about security ever since she assigned him to it. Making him wait would prompt more questions later, and possible lost trust with him and his group.

Despite very much not wanting to, it sounded like she was going to need to put her clothes back on for a little while.

“Just a minute, I'll be right out.” She informed him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Awee...” Hancock quietly cooed, easing himself away from her. “No cuddle time?”

Finally able to straighten up, she shot a look back at him that encouraged him to shut his face before she broke some part of it in lieu of his mostly missing nose... before cracking a smirk. “There's a bathroom behind that partition--” She directed him quietly, muting her voice to lower the chance it would carry. “No hot water, but it's clean.”

“Heh, ritzy.” Hancock smirked back. Looking at him, she was able to see exactly how ruffled his coat and blouse had ended up, with trousers only shifted just enough out of the way to get away with what they'd just done. He hadn't made any motion to arrange himself back into those trousers, though, appearing all too comfortable to just let it all hang out. “Is that your way to telling me to put it on ice? Cause if anyone needs cleaning up right now, it's you.”

He was right; she was a sticky mess between the thighs, and standing upright allowed for dripping between her legs. Usually she would have insisted on some clean cloth and water to manage that with, but at the current moment? She reached down and simply pulled pants and underwear back up, zipping, buttoning, and straightening both bra and blouse until it was impossible for anyone to know what they'd been up to by simply looking at her... and with only him aware of the specific nature of what was probably going to end up staining her undergarments.

“I'll make you clean it up, later.” She informed him playfully. “It's your mess.”

“Oooh... dirty.” He chuckled. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Her look hardened, making a motion at him that encouraged him to shoo-- the last thing she needed was to open the door and have Garvey catch a glimpse of her companion with his dick out. Hancock pouted at her, but ultimately obeyed.

With a sigh, she turned herself back towards the door, hesitated a moment, and then finally grasped the handle to push it open and head out.

Doing so was not unlike a splash of cold water to the face. Twilight was a good hour past, and the night sky was filled with stars without a single cloud to obscure them. There was a stiff wind tonight; enough to snap Garvey's trench coat against his legs and make the man pull up the swell of his scarf a little more to protect his nose and cheeks.

Going from the relative comfort of her little home-made haven, as well as the heat of her recent encounter, into the abrupt chill of the night with a sharp wind in her face could have only been more of a shock to the system if it had been raining.

As she emerged, Garvey looked back to appear in profile to her. The man was always at the ready, laser rifle held upright over his chest and his eyes brightly aware despite the dark of the night. Paige's shack was at the far end of Sanctuary; away from where she'd built housing for the other residents, as well as where she'd set up crops, power generators, and water. Looking down the slight hill her shack sat upon at Preston meant also seeing the lights of the settlement beyond him; the faint yellow glow of something that could almost be called a town as the back-drop to his silhouette and shining gaze.

“Garvey.” She greeted him by his last name; it felt more professional, what with him always insisting on calling her General since she'd helped him revive the Minuet Men and retake their old headquarters. “What can I do for you?”

“Like I said, I just had a few questions...” He answered, peering further up and towards the shack. She couldn't see his face; her abode featured no outdoor lights, and with the glow of the settlement behind him his features were cast in shadow. “... where's the ghoul?”

The ghoul. She could practically taste the disapproval on that one.

“Hancock is taking this chance to wash some of the wasteland out of his clothes.” She responded. “Is your security concern about him?”

“No, no, of course not. If you trust him, that's enough for me.” Preston assured her. “But, uh...”

“Out with it, Garvey.” She ordered sternly.

“I was manning the watch when you came back to Sanctuary, General-- I saw you brought back your power armor, and it looked like you were carrying a heavy load of supplies. I know you'd tell me if anything were coming for us here, but... I didn't see any of it go out with the traders, and that made me worry. So, I've gotta ask; do you think something nasty is coming up this way?”

She blinked. Preston thought she was stockpiling for an incoming threat. She almost wanted to laugh aloud, but couldn't manage it. Instead, she stepped down from her place above him on the hill, coming to stand at his side while still looking out at the settlement.

“No,” She answered him. “Nothing's coming here. I'm preparing for a journey into dangerous territory... I need to upgrade my armor before we head out, and we needed a safe place to rest our heads before we committed. I want every advantage we can get under us before we go.”

A pause. Whatever he expected to hear, that wasn't on the list.

“... General, you know all you'd have to do is say the world, and I'd--”

“I'm going somewhere you can't follow, Garvey.” She responded flatly. Of course he wanted to go with her, probably wanting to convince her to take him instead of Hancock. He considered himself more capable, more trustworthy; the better choice on all fronts.

She'd disagree with him outright, but Hancock also had a very specific advantage over Garvey that would leave him no grounds to argue on.

“I'm going into the Glowing Sea.”

Silence. The pause stretched out for several beats, no doubt as Preston processed what exactly it was she was saying.

“... I see. The armor will protect you from most of the radiation, and your companion is immune.” He observed. “... smart choice.” He added, begrudgingly, before asking, “But why are you going in there? Even with the armor, you're going to need to be carrying your weight in medicine to even have a hope of making it back alive...”

“It's important. That's all I can say right now.”

A month or two ago, she might have told him. Before getting involved with the Underground Railroad, before encountering a synth and the person they were trying to replace at the same time and very nearly killing the wrong one during the confrontation, before learning exactly how the institute dealt with people they didn't want to have around anymore... But now? There was doubt in her mind, about almost everyone. Was Preston really Preston? Or was he just another set of eyes and ears for them? If she mentioned a defector, hiding out in the Glowing Sea, would they somehow beat her to that defector and kill them?

She couldn't risk it. This was her line on Shaun, on her son. Right now, the only person she trusted was the one who was going with her; Hancock... and even he didn't know exactly why they were going.

Granted, he hadn't asked.

“... You're sure about this?” Preston quested quietly.

She scoffed. “... barely.” She answered back. “But it's the only way forward I have right now.”

She'd already decided on a direction. Her doubts didn't matter anymore.

“Then I suppose the only thing to do is wish you luck.” He sighed, turning to face her and taking a hand off the stock of his laser rifle to offer it to her. She, in kind, turned to him and took it, sharing a firm shake. “Whatever you're facing, if there's anyone who can survive it, it's you. You already provisioned?”

“Been buying out all the Rad Away and Rad-X I can find.” She confirmed. “Cleaned out every trader between here and Diamond City. Tomorrow morning I take all the lead I've collected and upgrade the power armor to withstand the radiation... and then we'll be suiting up and heading out.” She paused, withdrawing her hand from his. There was something else that had to be said; something she'd been hoping to save until they were on their way out, so there'd be no space to argue about it... but now was probably the kinder time to say it. “Garvey, if I don't come back--”

“You're coming back.” He interrupted.

“If I don't,” She pressed. “You'll be back in charge of the Minute Men. You can't hesitate from that. We've got enough supplies to last a day out there-- maybe two or three if we find a place to shelter that's not soaked in rads, like a cave or a pre-war bomb shelter that's somehow intact. If I don't come back to Sanctuary within that time? You need to take over properly and keep up the fight.”

He was quiet. He didn't like it.

“... I don't know if I can live up to what you've done for us, Paige.” He admitted, softly. “But... if it comes to that, I'll do my best by you.”

“... that's all we can do out here, Preston.” She affirmed in kind. “I know you're the man for the job.”

“Let's try not to find out.” He rebutted.

That time, she let out a faint laugh. “Don't worry.” She told him. “I'll be doing my best, too.”

__________

Chapter One: You are here Chapter Two: [hasn’t been posted to Tumblr yet, will add link when I’ve got it up... oor you could just go read the story so far on Fanfiction XD]

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#Fallout 4 #f!sole survivor #sole survivor #hancock x sole survivor #John Hancock #Hancock #Loving Stupid #fanfiction #fallout 4 fanfiction #female sole survivor #Paige #Paige Argot

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