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the-bird-and-the-flute · 1 year

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Ayakashi - Koga Kitamikado - Wasted Love

Pairing: futaba (adult) x koga kitamikado

Warnings: assault, alcohol, bad language

Word count: 1.415

A/N: this fic is an alternative story based on his card 100 yearnings of love (that he gets wasted in the entertainment quarter with oji). Futaba here is an adult and she works with her father. She is almost Koga's age. Btw, I wrote this fic almost a year ago but I was too lazy to edit it. Now it seems a great moment to post it, as today is Koga’s bday!!!! Happy birthday, my oni ogre. I’ll always always love you, even if I can’t play ayakashi anymore. Voltage can’t take you away from me!!!!

Koga went to town to have so fun with his friends. Thankfully, he can take the rest of the night off to chill, which is unusual considering there is always something urgent for him to do.

The entrepreneur always receives invitations to fancy parties and the likes, but today, he just wants to vibe with his closest friends.

These men are bachelors, who, by chance, also love sake. Their motto is to always drink to their heart's contents.

Today, a very traditional restaurant is holding a sake tasting in their establishment to promote local sake businesses. The perfect event for guys like Koga and his friends. And as expected, sake lovers would never say no to this unique opportunity.

All Koga wants after a busy week is to taste that nectar on his oni lips until he quenches his thirst.

After hours of tasting all the types of sake available, they were far from being tired of drinking. One of the female attendants approached the rowdy group to ask if they would still like another round of sake.

“Would you like more sake handsome boys?”, said you one of the female attendants.

“Oh yeah, We're just getting started! Hahaha.”

“Huh! As if I would lose to you, Koga. Bring it on, lady!”

“HAHAHA. That's the spirit, Akira!”

While the attendant was laughing at the boys’ enthusiasm, a second friend of Koga, Hokuto, started flirting with her.

“And what about you pretty lady? You must be tired of just serving us. Why don't you join us instead?”

“Yeahhh! Don't worry about your boss, we can deal with him later. I'm sure he will understand”, shouted an excited Akira.

“I would love to! Thank you. I'll just get your drinks first.”

“Now we are talking about! Koga, you saw that? Ahhh, today is our lucky day!!! Sake and women are an unbeatable combo!”

“So you make sure she sits next to you, Akira. I have nothing to do with that. I just want the sake, you know.”

“Ohh, here you go again. Don’t worry, Koga. Futaba is not gonna get mad at you, we were the ones who invited her.”

Then, by accident, Koga knocked over some glasses that were on the table, making a huge noise in the establishment.

Luckily, most people didn't notice because it was late at night and the remaining customers were also wasted or too busy talking and laughing loud.

“Oops, hahaha. Where those glasses came from?”

“Is that him panicking just to the possibility of his sweetheart seeing him here with other women?

“Oi, don't talk as if I was not here... Futaba is a busy woman, but she is very understanding. No way she would… Ahhh, I don’t need to give you any explanation!”

“I'll pay for the broken glasses. Look, I have money!”

“Hahaha I thought you were going to use that money to buy more sake though!”

“Oh shit, true! But no worries! There is more where this came from! HAHAHA”

The attendant comes back with more sake for the rowdy men. After serving them, she sits at the table and starts drinking too.

But it doesn’t take long before one of the coworkers approaches to let her know she needs to get back to work because another group of costumers just arrived and someone needs to serve them.

As all the other attendants were extra busy, she excuses herself to wait on the other clients.

“Wow, kinda late to enter now, isn't it? What time is it anyway?”

“Hehehe, I don't know. But they are no idiots, Hokuto. Look those ladies with them.”

“Shit! Isn’t that…!”

Koga turns his head around to see what his friends were talking about. That's when he sees Futaba with some ladies and gentlemen sitting at a table on the other side of the establishment.

“WTF!?”. Without thinking twice, Koga gets up clumsily and rushes toward the table where Futaba just sat. His friends try to stop him, but they are too wasted to hold an infuriated and confused Koga, who was not ashamed of throwing a fit in public.

“Are you guys going to try some of these special sakes?”, said a cheerful Futaba.

“Futaba!”

“Huh? What was that?”. Futaba turns around to see Koga screaming her name from the other side of the restaurant. She gets shocked when she sees her beloved Koga walking towards her as if he was going to kill someone.

“What is happening, Futaba?”

“Err... I'm not sure myself. If you excus...”

“What are you doing?”, whispers one of Futaba’s female friends. “Do not leave the table with our patrons here! They will get offended.”

“Listen, I don’t know what Koga is doing here, but knowing him, it would be best if I try to calm him down first. He doesn't know these men. He may be worried about my safety…”

“No, Futaba. Stay here. You’ll make things worse. Now sit here next to me.”

In a split second, Koga approaches Futaba’s table. The oni ogre is foaming at the mouth. His red eyes shone like flames as if he was in a war zone ready to take the enemy down.

“ YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT IS THIS!”

“Koga, can you please stop screaming? Your behavior next to my patrons is not acceptable! Let’s talk…”

“And who the fuck is that man? Get the fuck out of here, drunkard. If you touch any of the ladies here I will ask my bodyguards to kick you out right now!”, shouted one of the men at Futaba’s table.

“AM I TALKING TO YOU?! If you dare to interrupt my conversation with Futaba one more time. You'll regret ever coming here.”

“That's outrageous! This fucker needs to go immediately!”

Koga and the other men at Futaba's table kept yelling at each other when another friend of hers tried to cool down their spirits.

“Do you know who this guy is? Please, we are talking to Koga Kitamikado! It must be just some misunderstanding, okay? He is Futaba's lover. I'm sure he has his reasons to come here. Let’s all solve this like adults.”

“Yes, Sakura is right. I can handle this. It won't take long, I promise. I will just explain to Koga...”

“I don't give a fuck if he is a Kitamikado or not. No man is gonna ruin our...”

Before the man can finish his sentence, Koga punches the guy so hard that he goes down like a sack of potatoes, letting everyone in the establishment astonished by what they had just witnessed.

“KOGAAAA! LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! YOU PUNCHED ONE OF MY PATRONS!”

Koga's friends, who were watching the whole scene, decide to intervene once again by talking to the other men at Futaba's table and to Koga as well.

"Who on earth were the other men thinking? Inviting Fubata in the middle of the night to the entertainment quarter and expecting to get away with it with Koga watching the whole thing? Don’t these men hear the rumors about Koga and Futaba?", said a resigned Hokuto.

Somehow, even though they are all drunk, they manage to control the commotion. One of Koga’s friends escorted Futaba’s female friends, and the man who Koga knocked out was taken to the hospital. According to the rumors, he was conscious. Futaba and Koga took a carriage back to his place before he could assault other people.

Once the duo gets to Koga’s manor, Futaba promptly helps to carry him inside.

“Here, Koga. Let me help you. Come on. We're home. I mean... in your house.”

“I’m fine. I’m fine!”

“I think I'll beg to differ, but okay, if you're fine then you can go to your room by yourself while I head to my house.”

“Futaba, wait... Are you hurt? If those fuckers did something to you...”

“Please, stop it. You're exaggerating. It was just a business meeting. Look, we're getting close to your room. Don’t be too loud, okay? You may wake up, Kuya. And we don’t want that.”

After putting Koga on his bed, Futaba looks for some other blankets for Koga when she sees those red eyes staring at her.

“What is it, Koga?”

“Futaba… I’ll solve it, okay?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll not let anyone ruin your reputation because of me. I’ll talk to them tomorrow. Just stay the night here.”

Now knowing how to say no to those pleading red eyes looking at her, Futaba gets some extra blankets for herself as well.

#ayakashi #ayakashi romance reborn #ARR #lyn's fic #koga #koga kitamikado #koga fic #koga kitamikado fic #ayakashi fic

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cas-poisoning · 3 years

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every time I remember that you guys are actually, unironically attracted to the guys from supernatural, I just...

#*wendy williams voice* dula peep... I can’t. Get out. oh my god.#that is the emotion I feel #like you guys are fr fr??#no hate #but #😳😳😳#spn #supernatural #if I see another thirst post for any of those men again #I think I’m at my limit #jensen ackles #Misha Collins #jared padalecki #just to be clear I mean this in a light hearted way

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

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last call | jjk x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.

warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage

A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get. Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!

*********************

Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.

That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan. The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.

The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --

Jeon Jungkook.

On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention. You can’t blame them, really. It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile. And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.

Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave.

Suckers just like you.

*************************

Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you. The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar. Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”

“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it. Who sent this to me?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.

He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.

“I did.”

Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise. Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot?

You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.

Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass. But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.

You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.

You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.

“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.

***********************

Something strange happens a few nights later.

You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room. Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.

He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.

It’s your name.

You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar. He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear. His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.

He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?

You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next. Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.

“What’s up?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile. You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you. “I’ve got something else for you tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you. “What’s on the menu?”

Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.

“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot. “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible. “I figured this might be more your speed.”

Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.

And your name, apparently. How does he know your name, anyway?

“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.

“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.

“So, um -- how do you know my name?”

You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask. Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.

Jungkook shrugs. “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”

“Ah,” you smile. “Well, thanks, again. Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he grins.

But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.

You turn and head back to the bar.

“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook. “I’ve never paid with a credit card here. I always pay my tab in cash.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.

“Is that right?”

**************************

“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”

“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head. “Keep your voice down. Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”

Tifa shrugs, unbothered.

“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails. “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”

Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?

You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.

“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth. Tifa rolls her eyes.

“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You sigh.

It would be, actually. The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like. Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.

Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed. You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.

You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron. She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you. His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.

“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her. “The man is trying to fuck you. I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”

You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.

“We’ll see about that, T.”

*************************

Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.

All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on. No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.

Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.

He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time. He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.

So you wait. And wait.

The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash. No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception. From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.

Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.

You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.

How long have you been sitting here?

It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen. Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place.

Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds.

Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave. You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.

“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”

Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.

“Your tab was paid hours ago.”

Oh.

“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face. Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.

“Yup.”

You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.

Jungkook laughs.

“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open. You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.

“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.

“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal. His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night. The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases. “My vision is 20/20. My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”

Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.

“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation. “‘Cause I want you, too.”

You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence. Then he waits for you to speak.

“I’m, I -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts. Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence. “ -- I think I need another drink.”

Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar. He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them. You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.

“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses. He nods, handing you your glass.

“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.

“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.

You clink the glasses together before draining them.

You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins. The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.

“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move. He leans closer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath. Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless. “That depends. Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”

“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans. You suck in a breath.

“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”

Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses. His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back. This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.

You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on. Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips. You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.

He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed. Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.

“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close. You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs. “I like the way you think.”

He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton. You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.

Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off. You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple. You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.

“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”

Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar. You shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier. You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.

It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples?

Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold. “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.

You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.

“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat.

A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”

He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Wait, are you gonna -- “

“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast. His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud. “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol. “I can do whatever I want in here.”

You certainly can.

He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin. He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties. Your breath hitches in your chest.

“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar. You laugh.

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop.

You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties. In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life. Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs. The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.

He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue. You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth. But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.

“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side. You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs. Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper. He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication -- but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel. The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.

“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”

He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar. Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.

The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth. He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone.

“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you. Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight. “Do it.”

The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar. Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train. Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans.

It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return. When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile. “How has your service been tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt. “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”

Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath. He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long. Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing. His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.

“Better now?” he chuckles.

“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar. You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips. “The jeans have to go.”

“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim. Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.

“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him. “Your review has just improved.”

He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock. He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth. He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.

“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe. “Turn around for me.”

You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop. You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar. You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.

He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance. One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip. He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.

“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”

“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you. After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.

He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip. Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.

Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.

“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper. “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time. His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror. “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”

Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track. He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic. “Can you come for me again?”

You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs. Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.

That’s all it takes.

You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.

His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning. But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you. You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you. Inside of you.

You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.

“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath. He leans his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.

“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”

*********************

You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs.

The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.

The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story. That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life. And it’s not going to stick around.

You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.

Tifa picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”

***********************

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #ficswithluv #changeswithluv

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

gladiator jk?? 🤭🗡

I’ve written quite a few historicals, but never in the Rome era or quite as far back. So please excuse the historical inaccuracies and all that. I did my best to do a half hour crash course on it.

↳ Spare and Surrender

2.5k || 50% Fluff, 50% Angst || Jeon Jungkook || Gladiator!AU

Jungkook is a star.

He’s won eight games — five against wild beasts and three against other gladiators where he killed two and maimed the other. The entire Colosseum always cheers when he enters. He knows he’s become a favourite, that there are those who bet their life savings on him, and most importantly, he always wins.

The fact that he’s alive is enough proof.

But in spite of the horrors he’s had to face, of the lives he’s had to take, Jungkook still likes it. They give him a place to sleep, three delicious meals a day, and baths and massages whenever he wants. Jungkook is good at what he does too. He isn’t like those elite men from the senate who rigged the fights in their favour and perform simply for their own amusement. The scars on his body are the evidence of his strength and true victories. Jungkook is talented. He was one of the best during training, heard endless praise and even now the roars of the people make him feel alive. Even when asked if he wanted to be free, he refused. Jungkook bleeds competitiveness and the games have become his reason to live.

Today, the crowd is cheering again. But it’s not for him.

“Who’s up there?” he asks a fellow fighter, Darius.

“The new one. You haven’t heard of him?”

The two of them climb the steps, candle fire illuminating their figures and casting their shadows against the underground stone walls.

“They call him the Mouse Dragon.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why?”

“Because he’s as tiny as a mouse, but as fierce and swift as a dragon.” The clamour of the crowds become louder the closer they get to the center. There’s light from the end of the tunnel closest to Jungkook and curiosity makes him go closer. “He’s already won five games, Jeon. He might take your place soon.”

Darius nudges him with a small grin. But Jungkook doesn’t take it lightly.

He follows the light and peeks out of the barred tunnel to see you.

You’re in amber armour, silver dagger in hand as you encircle a wounded bear. It growls, leaps forward at the speed of light, but you don’t evade. You lurch forward and before the animal’s sharp teeth can rip into your skin, the dagger pierces into the side of its throat.

The bear roars in pain and you dig the blade into it before pulling out to pierce it again.

Finally, the large creature drops dead at your feet. The crowd bursts into wild howls and screams. It’s deafening.

Jungkook slinks back into the shadows.

He doesn’t know how he remained so ignorant as to not know you, to not know a fellow gladiator who won so many games. Granted, your number of victories is far from his, but it’s still notable especially when most gladiators died in their first games and few made it past ten. Jungkook plans on making it there. But at this rate, you might as well. And there was no room for two stars. Not when fame was fickle and he planned to become the most famous.

He allowed his arrogance to blind him for long enough. It’s time to make himself known to you, to show you what a real gladiator is and let you know your place.

Jungkook returns underground, darting past the many fighters preparing for their own matches. He brushes past the guards and trainers, ignoring the cry of the animals kept in their cages.

Down here, there was its own chaos. Chaos that is kept from the eyes of the public.

But when he gets to the place where survivors usually recover and collect themselves, the hall is empty and much quieter. The noise of the Colosseum is merely muffled faintly above him.

Jungkook whips back the curtain of the first room, but it’s empty. He turns on his heel, calms down his temper and glances through the gaps of the curtains, searching for you. He sees no one in the second room and no one in the third.

He’s about to relent and look for you on the training grounds later on. But at the fourth room, Jungkook’s vision unintentionally trails through the small space between the curtain and the wall.

His eyes grow wide as it lands on you. Unraveling your chest bindings.

You look up on instinct. Your pupils connect with his doe, brown eyes. A gasp rips from your throat.

But by then, he’s gone. Like a ghost or the smoke of a flame.

Jungkook strides back from where he came from, feet moving quickly. He’s in disbelief, utter confusion—

And a hand wraps around his wrist. In an instant, Jungkook’s yanked into one of the rooms.

You’re panting, chest rising and falling as you hold your bindings to your breasts.

His eyes weren’t wrong. “You’re a woman.”

“And you’re Jungkook.”

He blinks. “You know me?”

“Who doesn’t?” You slip the worn tunic on, and Jungkook realizes how small you really are. Up close, your neck is slim and your wrists small. But unlike the others, he knows it’s not because you’re a tiny, frail man. You’re a woman. “I’ve watched your games before.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are any of us here?” You face him, gaze intense and fierce without once wavering. He can’t be threatened. Not when he’s Jungkook, someone who’s quickly becoming one of the strongest gladiators of Rome. Yet for some reason, he’s held in his spot because of you. “I was a slave and was going to be sold as a prostitute.”

“So you pretended to be a man and train as a gladiator.”

“At least I can win enough prize earnings to pay for my freedom. Or I can die. Either way, it’s better than what was in store for me.”

Jungkook’s taken aback by the determination ablaze in your eyes, by the strength and conviction in your voice. “There are female gladiators, you don’t need to hide yourself.”

“If they knew I was a woman, they’d want me to expose my breasts and fight and no one would take me seriously.” You hiss at him like he knows nothing, “What kind of prize earnings would I get then if they’re pitting me against dwarves for their own amusement.”

Jungkook looks at you — he really looks at you. Beyond a fighter in the Colosseum, beyond a fellow competitor, beyond a heroic gladiator who garners cheers.

He feels foolish.

Small-minded. Short-sighted.

His intentions of intimidation and putting you in your place has long vanished. You and him are so different. He can’t compare to you.

You don’t fight for sport. You fight to escape.

“Don’t tell anyone.” You soften. “I hate owing others, but please. I beg of you. Let me be.”

“I was a slave too.” In the farthest confines of his mind, Jungkook still hears the screaming, the burning city, Romans taking him in the midst of their conquests. And the others. The difference between him and them was that he was stronger. He survived. But he almost let himself forget. “If you made it this far, it means you’re strong as well. I have no business in revealing your secret.”

Jungkook had almost forgotten what life outside the Colosseum meant. He almost forgot the thirst to survive. To live on without needing to fight another day.

But as he looks at you, the memories return. It makes him feel sickly. He pushes them away.

“But for a price.”

The relief on your expression washes away just as quickly as it came. “What price?”

“Tell me your name. Your real name.”

You hesitate before the secret tumbles from your lips. “It’s Y/N.”

...

Jungkook sees you again in the training barracks. Now that your face isn’t simply one amongst the crowd, blurring together with the men, now that he can pick you out by just the back of your head, he often joins you. Whether it be pity or curiosity, he isn’t quite sure yet. But he speaks to you when he has the chance, invites you to sit and eat at the table with him much to the confusion of fellow gladiators, and he trains with you during the day.

He can tell you’re not fond of his attention as it garners the attention of the other men. After all, Jungkook doesn’t often associate himself with fellow fighters and certainly not those that are supposedly lower than he is. But he can also tell that you like his training help.

“Stab, don’t slash.”

“I know that.”

“But you’re still doing it.”

“I survived this far without your help, Jungkook.”

“And you’re going to need my help if you want to keep surviving and earn your way to freedom.”

The corner of his mouth tugs when you’re rendered to silence.

But you’re not the only one to gain from the relationship. Jungkook enjoys sparring with you. He likes it when your sword clashes against his, when your shields are struck. You’re a formidable competitor. While he is sturdy, swift and strong, you are agile and dexterous. He is especially impressed when you tumble away from him like your bones have turned to air.

Jungkook has always liked his women elegant with intelligent eyes, dressed in beautiful clothes that drift through the breeze. You, on the other hand, are rough when you wield weapons. Your words can be crude and he’s never once seen you in finery. Yet, he is absolutely stricken with you.

And maybe that’s why he feels a need to protect you through the fight—

“The Mouse Dragon! The Unstoppable Beast!”

The crowd goes wild as you both enter the Colosseum together. The nicknames given to the two of you are absurd, but Jungkook still feels pride that he’s famed enough to be named.

It was posted earlier today that you’d be fighting together against an exotic animal from the west. A creature with a large trunk, two tusks and whose height towers him twice over.

Perhaps the trainers saw how close he was becoming with you. Maybe the rumours began to take that he was your mentor and you were going to become the next bold gladiator. Either way, you were put together.

Jungkook looks to you and the both of you nod, preparing your stances as the animal is released from its confines. It cries out and decides to trample towards you.

The game lasts ten minutes. It always does and it’s the longest ten minutes he knows.

Jungkook is reckless this time. More than what he is used to.

“You don’t need to protect me—” you spit at him, standing shoulder to shoulder, catching your breaths.

He knows, but he can’t help it. “Who says I am?”

Jungkook strikes when he should be holding up his shield. He surges forward before you can. And he’s clearly more worn than you are. But it’s not for the cheers, not for the crowd to chant his name, and he isn’t trying to steal the spotlight from you.

You narrow your eyes in on him. “I can handle it on my own.”

You do.

The creature becomes wounded from your stabs and blood splatters across your face. But in the moment of the animal’s death, it wails out and leans on its hind legs with its last effort. From the force, you’re thrown to the ground. About to be trampled. About to be crushed.

Yet before it can come down, before you can brace yourself — Jungkook digs his entire sword through its side.

The animal falls over. The dust is awakened into a cloud.

The crowd screams all around you and your gaze meets Jungkook’s, knowing he saved your life.

The game is something to remember. So much so that a close trainer, Marcus Namjoon, whispers that the next time the two of you will have to fight a more ferocious beast. The lion.

“How will you manage?” he asks you that same night as you’re seated on the wooden steps.

“I’ll just have to or I’ll die.” The corner of your mouth curls as the light of the stars glow against your face and makes you look like a goddess. Jungkook is sure you must be the child of Ares and Aphrodite. “May the best warrior survive.”

His hand crumples into a fist. He tears his eyes away from your magnificence.

Sooner or later, you will win your freedom or sooner or later, you will die. Or worse. Jungkook knows how the games go. He’s been here for years and he knows why these matches exist. It’s all to distract the public of more important matters and if something happens, if a big enough distraction is needed, sooner or later, Jungkook will be pitted against you.

Then, he will have to kill you or at least maim you. Or he will have to be your sacrifice.

“Take this.”

He drops a leather pouch into your lap and looks away.

It’s heavy and you tug the strings. A gasp pulls on your lips. Gold and silver gleams back at you.

“Jungkook…”

“It’s all of my earnings I’ve saved so far. With what you have, together it should be enough to buy your freedom.” It becomes silent and he lets the peace of the night settle into him.

“Why?”

“Because you desire freedom more than I have ever desired anything.” That might be a lie. There is one thing Jungkook desires most that could possibly contend — and he’s looking at it. Looking at you. “If there’s anyone who deserves this, it’s you. I would not regret it if this is where my earnings went.”

“W-What about the fight?”

“I’ll have a better chance than you do.”

“Jungkook.”

You take his face within your hands to kiss him. He feels your soft lips and in spite of being a warrior, your body is even softer. You feel feminine under his touch and as he years for more, he grabs a hold of your waist and pulls you flush against him. Jungkook inhales your yelp, your tongues sloppy against one another.

A hunger from inside him awakens. Jungkook wants to have you right here, right now. But you part from him, catching your breath.

Under the stars, Jungkook has become entirely enraptured by you.

“I’ll work.” You make an oath to him. “I’ll save enough to free you.”

Jungkook’s never thought of leaving before. Even as a distinguished warrior, when he had been asked if he wanted to be granted freedom, he refused. He likes it here. There’s a roof over his head, he gets three meals and gains attention and fame that he could never get on his own.

Yet, you are a bigger reason than all other reasons.

He has never desired anything more than being with you.

A smile tugs on his lips. “It’s a promise I’ll hold you to then.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook reader insert #bts reader insert #jungkook x reader #Anonymous #Jimlings #LET'S GOOOO

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bakubabes-tatakae · 2 years

Text

Event Status: Open (11/15 open spots)

My babies, my loves, I have absolutely nothing planned today other than a dinner later and have decided that I'll be opening up a certain number of requests today. 😌

Today will only be open for certain people that I'll list below! I'm feeling like writing so I'll be opening up 15 requests for headcanons or one-shots! I'm going to be writing all day so I'll be getting as many as I can out today and the rest will be tomorrow since I'm off again tomorrow. Writing for all my favorite men is going to make this birthday so much better.

Thirst posts are always open so if you send those in they won't be considered a spot on the list, and any that I get for the people below will be honored first for thirsts today.

If you don't want to see any of today's fun then block the tag: #bakubabes birthday celebration

Requests are open for:

Draken

Renji Abarai

Eren Yeager

Megumi Fushiguro

Beelzebub (Obey Me)

Tobio Kageyama

Asuma Sarutobi

Sasuke Uchiha

Osamu Dazai

Zora Ideale

Benimaru Shinmon

Katsuki Bakugou

Request Spots: (I'll be linking them here as I receive them in my box)

Overstimulation with Asuma Sarutobi

Public Sex with Tobio Kageyama

Breeding with Sasuke Uchiha

Nails || {NSFW} Eren Yeager x fem!Reader (Not counted in spots)

Sorry Mama || {NSFW} Draken x fem!Reader (Not counted in spots)

Daddy Kink with Katsuki Bakugou

Thank you all for another amazing year here! 🥰 I can't believe I've already been running this thing for almost two whole years. Can't wait for you all to see what I have planned for our anniversary event. 😏

#bakubabes birthday celebration #personal #harlie rambles #can't wait to see what you've got for me 🥰

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 3 years

Text

This is gonna be a flashback chapter. How our babies met because I remember a few people had forgotten. Had to have one of these eventually, right?

Part 21: Introduction

Should I download Tinder?

Glee plays from the firestick, the scene where they're all walking and singing How Will I Know.

I should.

Laying cozied into the couch in a faded t'shirt with the tiniest pink shorts, your head rests on the butt cushion and your feet dangle over the arm as you hold your phone up in the air over your face.

"How will I know?.. How will I knoow..," you mumble along with the crew. You've heard the Glee version of this Whitney classic at least 8 times.

No, but what if I do and someone recognizes me? Someone I work with? What if my family is on Tinder? I'd die.

You put the phone down on your belly and pick up your apple juice from the coffee table, doing a sit up to sip.

Mm. You wipe your mouth nearly spilling. But if they're on there too then they shouldn't comment on what I'm doing, right? We'd ignore each other's presence and continue like ships passing in the night. So technically I should be able to download this app with no blowback.

Picking the phone up, you hit download and open the app. It immediately asks for your information and won't let you skip. Not even your location. You fall back down to your back raising the phone up again.

But what if someone's a serial killer?Would they look for me? No, that won't happen and I could tell if they were psychotic..

Tapping the download button, you go through the steps to set up an account including giving them access to your location and posting a headshot from a selfie. Scrolling through your gallery for more decent pics to post, you decide one's enough and upload a full body photo so that whoever meets you will know who they're meeting, no surprises.

Inputting your information, you decide to write into your blurb that you're looking for some awesome friends, specifically a movie buddy. In reality, the activity doesn't matter you just crave human attention and closeness. Any decent, polite, nice, smart, funny, left wing, hopefully attractive, young, black human.. possibly male.. will do. Not that you're picky. In the meantime, you swipe right on everyone black nearby, men and women. Somebody's gotta respond. Someone sane who wants to meet. Shockingly there are a lot of pretty people. Unfortunately the app only gives you one super like.. a blue star which you decide to save.

Giddily you head over to your match tab and see four matches. Drew P seems nice. Ashley J looks stylish. G Papa looks like he lives in a Freaknik video. Pussy Hunter is just nasty. Your nose twitches as you shamefully start conversations with all four. When neither responds right away you return to swiping and a notification says you've been super liked, but you can't access who super liked without paying money. You're not doing that so you just go back to the bios and swipe right until you get a reply.

Wyd, Pussy Hunter writes.

Bored, watching movies. You?

You gotta fat ass

Um. Thanks?

Netflix and chill?🙈

Netflix and Netflix. We can talk and hang out..

So no chill

No sex, but we can hang out and do something else

After 5 minutes, you realize he's not going to write you back. You start to swipe again on pictures, left for the whites and weirdos. Right for the black people.

Your finger hovers in the air as you gasp lightly at the thirst trap provided by a man self-identified as Erik. It deserves another sip of apple juice. You gulp it down from your cup. "Jesus.." You can't even see his face, because it's all BODY, but you can tell by the picture exactly what he's on Tinder for. Same m.o. as Pussy Hunter.

Erik S, 28

Fucc around and find out

Good Lord.. those shorts are yet holding on, you stare as if they'll slip down further by you willing them to. You swipe right. Your eyes widen as the app alerts you with a blue star meaning... He super liked your profile.

"NO," you gasp wide eyed at the phone ready to chuck it at the wall. Switching to the messages, there's a new one.. from him.. and you know what it's about. "I need some tea."

---

Erik lazed around his house bumping Schoolboy Q, clad in a white terry cloth bathrobe with a short glass of iced Ciroc and Lemonade in his hand. Dancing, he exfoliated his face with his spin brush, trimmed his mustache and beard, shaped himself up, and moisturized his locs and facial hair. The lil lip scrub he'd gotten as a gift from Cierra, he'd initially fought her on because it smelled like peaches but he liked how soft it made his lips. They even tasted good. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time tasting sugar. They tasted like Cierra.

Speaking of sugar, he looked at his phone wondering why his hoes ain't called. Then again, they could've. He wasn't near the phone all day. Checking the iPhone on the charging dock he saw that he had a missed call.. from Cierra.

Checking the time she called, he figured that was back when he was cleaning his guns and checking the parts. He'd already cleaned and sharpened his knives. He'd checked his security cameras. He felt good. Having no major responsibility and no place to be.

Outside of the missed call he had three new nudes and a video sitting in his messages to watch and record himself masturbating to. He was looking forward to doing that especially since Rell hadn't called with no bullshit local cases. Erik had stated he ain't want no hits near his temporary home.. for a year, he wanted peace. One damn year. But here he was still racking basic skills for pennies. "Chump change is still change," Rell's voice played in his ear. "You don't wanna get rusty. Gotta keep your skills sharp."

Erik had done his share of moving around, racking up international kills and earning the nickname Killmonger. But for a little while, he wanted to settle down in one concealed location where no one knew where he lived, who the fuck he was, or where he was coming or going. He wanted the illusion of peace and normality for a year at least. As much money as he had, he figured he could afford to stay in one place for that long if he was careful.

Only two people knew where he lived and that was Rell and Swift. They knew not to come over. Not even the previous owners of the house knew he was there.. because he'd made them an anonymous offer, killed them and moved in a few days after they'd sold it to him for cash. Needless to say he took all that money back.

He dialed Cierra, roaming to his bedroom to collapse over the bed as the phone rung. "Sup Ci?"

"Master," she whimpered, the desperation in her voice telling him she needed release. She'd been working too long through the past week and needed Master to come take control for a few hours. He could picture her on her knees, already in puppy space. She knew exactly how he liked her to wait for him.

"Yes, Ci. You need me to come for a scene?"

"Rrrrr," she growled. "Arf arf!"

"My bad. Lil Bitch."

"I gotta go to Target and see my sister," but come through later. I don't care how late just call up."

"Your sister? The one you met on Facebook?"

"Yeah, her! She live like an hour away. I'm a link with her and put her on Tinder! Get her a man to pop that back out," she giggles.

"You know I don't mind a two for one," Erik teased knowing she wouldn't go for it. He liked to mess with her anyway.

"Not with my damn sister, I'm not that nasty. A white girl can have it,"

"Damn crush my dream."

"Anyway!"

"Aight, I'm a let you go." Hanging up, he sat up and went to his closet pulling a colorful glass bong he'd gotten from a nigga he once knew in the military. Bruce Everett, white boy. Cool nigga... Too bad he shot hisself with his own gun. Sighing, Erik shook his head and went to the bathroom to fill it with water and headed back to pull his chrome grinder from his drawer along with a screen, hempwick, and a nug of Dr. Greenthumb's Emdog OG, grinding it down to pack the bowl making it fluff up.

"Perfect," he whispered lighting the bong with the hempwick. He lit the edges of the weed going around in a circle for an even and smooth burn as he stood taking a good long hit. "Shit," he exhaled releasing the smoke. I love bongs.

He looked and the bowl was empty as he'd expected. One hit's all you need when you do it right.

"Tinder...," he played in his mind. He already had a fetlife which was how he'd found his subs. Tinder was something different though. He was curious.

Downloading the app on the phone used almost solely for contact with subs, he went through the process of setting up an account, hesitating to put his info. It was general enough and the shit that was too specific, he could just lie. Still, he wouldn't upload his face.

So all I gotta do is swipe and see everyone in the area, he mused looking at all the faces.

"No.. No.. Nope.. Facially challenged.. The fuck is that?.. Hell nah.. Yes.. Yes.. She cute.. Hell nah.. Yes... No..," he paused looking a little closer at the screen. "Hello... Damn."

Out of curiosity he clicked on the profile. "That ass tho!"

He smirked hitting his super like.

"Shid... You can get the blue like.. Whatever the fuck that mean.." He stared at the picture. She had a juicy looking aro with thick black curls, brown skin, bright almond eyes, and enough ass to feed the needy for months. "Shit, if I was on a deserted island with coconuts and that ass.. that's enough meat for a damn.. shidd.." He chuckled. "Fuck is a super like? I super like yo ass meat..," he chuckled again falling back on his bed. "It mean I'm a break yo shit in thirds and fuck the pieces," he coughed, over his own bullshit.

---

Jumping up, you speedwalk into your kitchen and quickly heat some water in a pot, pulling a red mug and a bag of chamomile and a bag of lemon balm to mix with sugar. Combining it all, you take a sip and stand there staring at the wall before taking it with you back to the couch. "Okay," you sigh picking up the phone to open the Tinder message thread.

Cum talk to me, he says. You stare at the words. Wow, this is so cringy you don't know how to respond. You sit the phone back down taking another sip. You think about ignoring him, but you keep touching the phone, coming back to the message and staring.

Hey, you finally type hesitating at the simplicity before sending.

How are you tonight ? Why you up ?

Bored, lonely, contemplating my existence over Glee and wondering why my high school years were never that damn musical. You sip your tea.

Having a tv party with just lil ol' me. Why are you up?

The fuck kinda life you living. You need me to cum spice shit up for you? 👀

You think you that spicy? 👀

You wanna taste me and see?

Jeez. You flip back to the faceless picture of his body. Lord have mercy.

Don't play with a real one I'll show the fuck up real shit, he writes.

Internally you're screaming. He really thinks you're about to have sex with him. "I can't, oh my god," you sigh bouncing your knee. You hesitate before responding.

You can come, but bring food.

Hell yeah. Then you can be dessert. 😈

What? You turn the screen off and grab your head, your elbows on your knees.

What am I doing. Y/N what are you doing.

No sex nigga, you type before taking it back and staring at the screen perplexed. If you say that, he won't message you back.. If you don't say it, he'll be expecting to get some! You still want him to come through though even if he leaves because you're bored. You just want a little company for a little bit.

Maybe you should get a cat..

Your leg shakes unsure of how to respond and you take another sip of the hot tea mix feeling anything but calm.

Without further delay you just drop your address and hope for the best, wondering if you just signed off on your own murder. Maybe I should've told him to meet me somewhere else in the daytime.

Washing your apple juice cup, you put it away and then throw on some black leggings and rainbow fuzzy socks not wanting to open the door in pink bootyshorts adding onto the wrong message you'd already sent him. You also put a kitchen knife under the sofa cushion for easy access just in case.

40 minutes. You like wings?

Parmesan

🤢 Love yourself, sis. I'm getting a mix.

Oh I see you Mr. Petty Labelle, you smile getting a taste of his personality.

Yep. Finna get some of Ms. Petty's pie

Uh uh, you smirk.

We nuh ave dat

That right? Guess I'll see for myself when I pull up 👅

He's a whole fool. You set the phone down smiling at the tv. Meanwhile you watch another episode.. actually watching it this time.

Knock knock, he messages and you see it having kept the thread up just in case he had an issue. Jumping up, you snatch your phone and take a deep breath to steady your nerves. This is the first time you've ever done something like this and you hope it doesn't go badly.

Who's there, you jest messaging back right before you unlock your multiple locks and crack the door. Peeping out, you shut the door automatically throwing your body against it, holding your breath. He's huge! You didn't even look up, you just saw all that muscle like Kangaroo Jack. And why was he all up on the door?!

"Word? You must not want these wings then," he says through the door. You hear plastic rattling dramatically. "That's aight I don't mind eating em by myself."

You crack the door again, peeping out. You hadn't even seen the plastic bag hanging from his hand, you'd shut him out so fast. You reach out to grab it and he pulls it back.

"Aht! This how you treat guests? Door in the face? Snatching bags?" Your eyes roam from his hard chest to the broadness of his shoulder, resting on the sleeve of his charcoal grey Chicago Bulls shirt. Those biceps.

"Look at you undressing me in your mind already. Go ahead, you can touch me," he adds holding his arm forward as if reading your mind. He talks a lot.

You snatch the bag and put it behind your back a bit, opening the door. Then you look up and your kitty jumps. It's the devil himself. You try to control your surprise but between his sharp narrow chestnut eyes that smirk down, his sculpted nose, and his full pouting lips, you don't know if you want to kiss him, bite him, or climb him. You wanna do all three and more right in the hall.. up against the wall. His hair too, it's a mess of semi-thick locks that point everywhere like Coolio. It's his everything really..

"Y/N.."

Omg. It sounds so good coming from him. This isn't fair.

"Aye..," he waves.

"Hm," you sigh staring at his face.

"You gone let me in?"

"Huh? Oh." You step back quickly and scan him from head to toe as he steps across the threshold. Bulls shirt, black track pants, black sneakers. His shoes are ugly though, the back heel juts out too far. Balenciaga is written in white. Oh.

You look up and see he's looking you up and down too. Oop. Leading the way you take him to the living room and he settles on the couch, his develish eyes on yours. His knees spread wide as he leans back, hips forward.

Silently screaming, you look away and sit the plastic food bag on the table.

You can feel him staring. The air is full of raunchy expectation and you can't say you blame him. You practically encouraged it on the phone.

"You want something to drink," you smile in friendly attempt, risking a glance and it's just as you thought.

"You know exactly what I want."

"To DRINK," you exphasize, ignoring the thump of your heart in your nana as his eyes roll over your hips.

"Mmm... You got Henny?"

"I have apple juice, tea, water.."

"Ciroc?"

Your face screws, Didnt I just-- "I don't drink.."

"Ever?"

You shake your head.

"Damn, Apple Juice."

Taking your sweet time to pour his juice and refill your tea, you re-enter the living room as the Glee cast kicks off another song that he mutes.

"Here ya go."

You give him his cup and feel the chill in your spine as his fingertips brush yours. Unmuting the tv, you sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs crossed, tense and unsure of what to say to him now that he's there.

"You look uncomfortable."

"Me? I'm fine. I was just marathoning Glee before you came," you say handing him the remote, "I've already seen it though."

He hands the remote back. "You seen Menace II Society?"

"I've heard the title!"

"Well pull it up, let's watch it."

Thank God. That's something easy. You fumble through buttons and he starts opening the food as you set up the movie.

---

"Ooh Laurenz Tate he so fine," she smiled sitting up as the movie started. She would be into his ass. Erik rolled his eyes. Wait for it.

"I hate when they do that," she mumbled in response to the Asian woman following them around the store.

"Yeah," he agreed with swig of the juice looking from the tv to her face, watching her reaction. Wait for it.

"Why don't you give my homeboy his change," O-Dog says before walking to the door. "I feel sorry for your mother," the store owner snubs.

Bitch, don't talk about my mama. That part always pissed Erik off.

"What you say about my mama? You feel sorry for who?!" O-Dog shouts. "I don't want any trouble, just get out," the shopowner shouts, backtracking like the bitch nigga he is.

Fuck that, shoot his bitchass, Erik barked in his head. POP. POP POP. POP. POP. There you go! He shot the wife too, meanwhile, the princess jumped in her seat, absorbed in the felony she just observed on screen. Double-homicide.

"He shouldn't have shot them.. Bruh, now the cops gone be looking for him and his friend wasn't even in it but now he's an accomplice."

"You telling me you wouldn't have shot a nigga talkin shit on your mama?" Erik leaned into her space, curious, but she ain't seem to notice.

"No, 'cause they're rude, ugly, and racist but still. You can't kill without consequences."

Erik steeled. She wasn't wrong.

"I'd have shot his ass too," he admitted watching her. She didn't seem to agree. "Should've kept his mouth off his family."

"You close to your family," she asked suddenly.

"Yeah," he lied knowing his people were dead. "...You mind if I get more juice," he pointed to his cup and she took it refilling it.

Fifteen minutes into the movie, she noticed her wing choice wasn't in the selection and Erik kept a poker face having wondered when she'd realize. He'd already started on the barbecue.

"Where's my parmesan," she frowned looking in the boxes.

"They ain't have it," he lied. "Ran out."

"You're such a liar. Now what am I gonna eat," she pouted to his humor.

"Eat the carribean jerk," he nudged the box to her. She eyed it and he felt like a wolf trapping a rabbit, the wings being the bait.

"I ask you for one thing."

"Yeah and? I wasn't finna buy that shit," he chuckled grabbing a jerk wing and biting it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed to entice her. When he peeked, she was watching his mouth out the corner of her eye as he licked spicy sauce off his thumb. Sliding down in the cushion, she crossed her arms and raised a knee with her fuzzy foot on the couch. Such a damn brat. Ol' hungry ass.

He started to flex the length of his tongue since she was looking but decided against it. He couldn't be too aggressive or she'd spook and he wouldn't get no ass. Why he cared, he couldn't put a finger on other than the fact that she'd become a challenge. This girl would not let him anywhere near her. She was very shy considering she was down for a one night stand. I'm getting the draws, he promised himself right then. How? He just had to make her come to him.

Her nose wrinkled as she picked up a jerk wing, rotating it.

"Girl eat the wing, this ain't rocket science," he fussed watching her bite it.

"It's better than parmesan?" Lie, he dared watching her closely.

She took another bite.. then she attacked the wing and when she licked her fingers, he looked away grabbing another wing and swig of his juice.

"OKAY. SHUT UP." She grabbed another wing chewing through it as he coughed in his elbow hiding his laugh.

"I didn't say anything," he croaked shrugging her off.

"But you smiling and I can hear you thinking."

He couldn't hide the fat grin plastered on his face though he'd tried by looking away. "How you hear me thinking," he squinted watching her collect bones.

"Because I do, you're loud," she stressed.

"How I'm l-"

"SHH!! I'm tryna hear," she whispered. He shook his head watching the corner of her mouth lift and they watched the movie in silence until she reached for another wing and all the jerk were gone. He pushed her another box.

"You all the way over there. Come sit next to me."

"I'm not that far."

"You are. I promise I won't bite you.."

Her eyes rolled.

"Not unless you into that shit," he added patting the cushion beside him. She lifted, barely moving. "You scared?"

"What you mean?" She looked nervous all of a sudden looking anxiously in his eyes. This was gonna be a tough wall to break.

He patted the cushion again, waiting, and she finally moved in closer filling the empty seat beside him. He determined right then not to touch her but to get as close as possible maintaining proximity to get her used to his presence. Draping an arm over the couch behind her, he observed silently as she sat tense for the the next five minutes before relaxing. He had his work cutout.

@soufcakmistress @itsiesha @ju5tp34chy @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @blackpantherimagines @blackpinup22 @muse-of-mbaku @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @purplehairgawdess @indigoxsummers @cccccx1 @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent-blog

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #house rules

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zukosgay · 4 years

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I see you posting about horror and I would love some recs if you have some to share 🙏

i just accidentally deleted a whole list fjahsjdasd i hate my life. anyways, i’m just gonna go ahead and assume you know the classics that get recommended all the time (the babadook, the ring, the exorcist, the vvitch, the conjuring, hereditary, the thing, insidious, etc.). here’s some underrated/indie horror movies i rarely see talked about (favs are in italics):

The not-actually-that-scary-but-still-good horror movies:

Let The Right One In (2008) – I mean, it’s literally my favorite movie/book and I have a tattoo of it, we been knew

Possum (2018) – I cannot even begin to tell you how much I adore this movie. Horror movies about CSA that explore it without once showing the actual rape, but still being terrifying/disturbing nonetheless?? Just an irish guy chilling with the puppet personification of his csa trauma????? Hells yeah (huge TW for spiders tho, i mean. I’m not scared of spiders but that fucking puppet is stil terrifying no matter how much I look at it)

Hard Candy has a soft spot in my heart. That’s my emotional support „ellen page tortures pedophiles“ movie

Thirst (2009)

Ravenous (1999) THE INHERENT ROMANTICISM OF BEING GAY AND CANNIBALS ON A MOUNTAIN. Brokeback mountain for cannibals

We Are What We Are (2010)

Marrowbone (2017)

The transfiguration (2016) – there’s so little vampire stories with black people, and i really loved how this wasn’t outright fantasy horror but had more of a ‚vampirism as an actual mental illness‘ approach

Nightbreed (1990) this movie IS lgbt cinema history

Gerald’s Game (2017) – we get it elena you love horror movies about the trauma of CSA

The autopsy of jane doe (2017) - i feel like this movie is perfect for horror fans who are tentative about seeing any big grotesque/gorey jumpscares

As Above, So Below (2014) (the first and so far only movie that got permission to film in the paris catacombs) (also good for starters)

The Actually-Scary (at least to me) movies:

Lake Mungo (2008) ((think of TMA’s The End)) (i deadass think about this movie so often, the story is so devastating and really stays in my head. also the bg ghosts)

The [REC] franchise!!! any of those movies fuck me up and are TERRIFYING (again ff)

I watched 30 Days of Night (2007) when it came out, when i was way too young, and it still to this day holds the spot for coolest vampire design (they modelled them after the jaws of white sharks!!! They’re supposed to be slavic strigoi) and also one of the only one times where i was actually scared by vampires

Livid (2011) (french horror movie!) (v gorey)

The Taking of Deborah Logan (2014) (found footage of a demonic mom – you’ll see a lot of FF on this list cuz i think it’s criminally underrated and terrifying if done well)

NOROI: The Curse (2005) ((ff))

Open water (2003) (this is scary to me because it’s based on a true story about a couple who went cave diving in the ocean with a guide who got LEFT BEHIND in the middle of the motherfucking ocean – with literally nothing to hold onto and no one even reporting them missing. Also, after i watched this i did a lil research and turns out there’s quite a lot of people ‚going missing‘ while taking swimming lessons where the guides will just drive to shore without them YEARLY. Fucked up if true) ((this has tma the vast vibes))

Clown (2014) (I recommend this to people who aren’t scared to like Eli Roth movies and think It Chap. 1 was boring)

Martyrs (2008) – a classic, this movie is bound to disturb you. It’s about child abuse and the survivors of child abuse enacting revenge, though it’s not the typical csa/anything similiar. HUGE tw for uhhhh, torture, self harm, mutilation etc..

Mama (2008) – the goth tattooed rocker chic jessica chastain movie

The bay (2012) (ff)

The last exorcism (2010) (ff)

The wailing (2016)

If you put on any V/H/S movie for me I’m guaranteed to shit my pants, so there’s that

May (2002) – i turned lesbophobic after watching this movie. About a lesbian obsessed with dolls i’ll say nothing more

The not-as-scary-but-still-scary-so-i-dont-wanna-put-them-in-the-first-list-in-case-i-traumatize-anyone movies:

Creep 1 & 2

The Strangers

The void (2016) ((tma the spiral))

The Hallow (2015)

The loved ones (2009) – a classic

Excision (2012) (if you liked raw)

Devil’s pass (2013)

Afflicted (2013) ((ff))

The cell (2000)

Session 9 (2001)

They Look Like People (2015)

The children (2008) – fuck them KIDS

The blackcoat’s daughter (2015)

I really liked Armie Hammer’s netflix original Wounds (2019)? IDK why. I found the story (albeit better suited as a short story) fascinating

Night Eats The World (2018) – another french movie! This time it’s about the inherent isolation and loneliness in locking yourself in a parisian apartment all alone with a bunch of zombies eating the rest of the world

Pontypool (2008)

The lure (2015) – yes, we’re polish, yes, we’re mermaids, yes, we eat men, yes, we also perform in a pop girl group WE EXIST!

I am not a serial killer (2016)

Green room (2015)

That’s it, pretty much.

#god i saw my life flash before my eyes when i accidentally deleted the whole reply. so i did it in word instead #pirategf

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yunhowhoitiss · 3 years

Text

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 '𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐟𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k+ words

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: misc, fluff, a lil suggestive

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you’ve only just moved into your new house with the help of your fiancé’s friends, and it’s already utter chaos.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, ateez are dorks wbk, yeosang gets handsy, reader is embarrassed but takes revenge asap (let me know if I've missed anything ^^)

𝐚/𝐧: hey everyone! it’s been a while, I know, but I really wanted to post something for valentine’s day so here I am :) I hope you all have a gorgeous day, you’ve earned it <3

masterlist

"Boys, the lemonade's almost ready!"

The tingle of lemons tickled at your nose as you inhaled the odour of the sour fruit. You squeezed the last of the lemons into the glass jug on the counter in front of you.

Your fiancé's friends we're at your house to help you paint the walls of your newly-bought house, and you'd all been busy since the early morning.

Pouring a generous amount of sugar into the jug, you stir the soon-to-be lemonade with a long spoon. (Last summer when you made lemonade for the boys, San whined that it wasn't sweet enough, so you remembered to put in just a little more this time.)

Although you had called for the others already, there was no sign of them coming upstairs.

"Hey, dipshits, come get your lemonade!" You yelled at the top of your lungs. Again, no answer. At this point, you knew they were teasing you, as they always did. You sighed heavily, knowing you'd regret what you were about to do.

"Oh," you feigned wistfulness, "I wonder where those handsome, striking men are. I guess they don't want any lemonade. My heart longs for them to quench their thirst!" Your impression of a damsel in distress was audibly half-assed.

As if on cue, Mingi and Wooyoung ran up the stairs, followed by the other six men coming up the steps as well. San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Jongho situated themselves on the ground in the living room area, still devoid of furniture. You had yet to buy any for the house.

"Is that seriously what it takes for me to get your guys' attention? Calling you handsome?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wooyoung grinned mischievously, obviously proud of himself. He hopped up on the counter while Mingi stood next to you, looking innocently over your shoulder. Yunho joined in on the conversation, searching the kitchen cabinets for any cups.

"Well we are handsome, aren't we?" He chuckled cockily, reaching for a pack of paper cups on a shelf.

"Right?" Mingi chimed in, looking at you to see if you'd agree.

You look at them with your mouth agape; you couldn't believe the audacity they had. Before you could say anything, Yeosang finally came up the stairs, having overheard your conversation from afar.

"Hey, stop trying to squeeze compliments out of my wife, your egos are big enough as they are," he chastised playfully.

"She's technically not your wife, though," Wooyoung contested. Having known him for years, Yeosang knew Wooyoung didn't mean anything by it, but he threw him a cold glare nevertheless.

"Yet. Not my wife yet."

"So she can only compliment you, is that it?"

"Exactly."

The other men snickered at the both of them, clearly used to seeing them bicker all the time. Yunho filled nine paper cups with lemonade, giving everyone their drinks. Ignoring the immature conversation at hand, Seonghwa craned his neck to see you from where he sat.

"Y/n, could we get lunch soon? I think I speak for everyone when I say that I would kill for a burger right now." Upon hearing the word 'burger' most of the boys hummed and groaned in longing, almost drooling at the thought of it.

"Of course! I'll help Yeo out in the office to finish up what painting there is left to do, and you guys can get cleaned up and ready to go in the meantime. Sound good?" They all nodded yes at your proposal, some already making their way to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Gulping down the rest of your lemonade, you threw the cup away and headed towards the office. Yeosang held a paint roller in both hands, finishing the last wall that needed to be painted. The thick paint dripped down his wrist, creating a long grey streak along his forearm.

"Messy as always, Yeoyeo," you sighed, taking one of his paint rollers. You dipped your finger in the paint on his wrist and booped his nose, painting the tip of his nose grey.

"Hey! That stuff's hard to clean off!" Yeosang tried to see the paint on his face, obliviously crossing his eyes. You giggled fondly at his cuteness; you could never understand how someone so witty could be so dorky. Yeosang's face fell upon hearing you laugh at him, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. Your attention turned to the wall in front of you; you worked hard to paint as much of the surface as possible, unaware of Yeosang's actions. He painted both his hands grey, making sure the wet layer covered his whole hand.

"Y/n..." He whispered calmly. He made his way to stand behind you, tucking his face in your neck. He kept his painted hands behind him, hoping that you wouldn't notice.

"Yeosang, what are you doing? Help me paint."

He ignored you in favour of pressing gentle kisses into the crook of your neck, tracing his lips up to your ear. Your focus was drifting from the wall, all too distracted by Yeosangs lips so close to your ear. Before you could question him, his teeth nipped at your ear suggestively, catching you off guard. You turned to face him, only to be met with your fiancé's goofy smile.

"C'mon, we need to keep painting, love," you sighed exasperatedly.

"But baby..." Yeosang was proud of himself for the facade he was putting up, briefly wondering if he should've just become an actor. His lips met your forehead with an affectionate kiss as he brought his hands out from behind his back. His arms snaked around your waist, hands casually resting on your ass. This was something he did often, so you didn't think to question it. Following a playful squeeze, Yeosang took a step back, careful not to let his suspicious behaviour show. He stuck his painted hands in the pockets of the paint-stained overalls he wore, careful not to let you see.

"Why are you smiling like that? It's weird." You squint cheekily.

"I'm not smiling."

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Y'know what, we can paint later. I'm hungry."

On that note, you peeked out from the doorway, checking to see if the boys were ready. Yeosang was trying his very best not to laugh, but you were too preoccupied to notice.

You exited the office room, Yeosang following your lead, and walked past the kitchen to reach the bathroom. "Just a minute, guys, I'm gonna go get cleaned up and then we'll be out of here," you assured the boys. They were crowded around the kitchen counter, finishing every last drop of lemonade. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Seonghwa's hand fly to his mouth. Hongjoong and Jongho were red with what seemed to be embarrassment; the others pursed their lips in futile attempts to stifle their boyish giggles. Yunho probably made another dick joke, you told yourself, rolling your eyes.

Just as you passed a mirror that Yoesang had unboxed the day before, two shapes on your shorts caught your eye.

Grey patches? No. Grey... handprints.

"Kang Yeosang!"

The boys finally broke down in peals of laughter. Having known them for years, you weren’t all too embarrassed, you were even tempted to laugh along with them. Instead, you opted to throw a threatening glare at your fiancé , who raised his hands before saying "It wasn't me!"

"What do you mean it wasn't you— your hands are literally grey!" You stomped toward him, reaching for his sides. "Woo, hold his arms back!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Your fingers tickled at Yeosang's sides as Wooyoung held his arms behind his back; San pulled out his phone to record him. Upon deciding that you'd done enough, you went to change into another pair of bottoms, leaving Yeosang panting on the ground and his friends teasing him. When you came back, Yeosang crouched on the floor, tieing his laces. The other boys had already gotten their shoes on and headed out the door.

"You're paying for the food, hyung!" Jongho chirped as he stepped out the door. As Yeosang stood up, you cheekily jumped on his back, letting him give you a piggyback ride to the car. You kissed his cheek from over his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his front.

"I'll get you back for that, Yeo. Watch your back," you feigned menace.

"Mhmm, of course baby."

"And you owe me a new pair of shorts."

The silver ring on your left hand sparkled in the corner of his eye, and although you couldn't see, an enamoured smile spread across his face. He pressed a loving kiss to your hands crossed over his chest.

"Anything for you, love."

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years

Text

Cursed - one

|~|CHAPTER ONE|~|

series masterlist

A/N: The first chapter is here! I loved all the comments on the prologue and I really appreciate them. Those comments keep me motivated to post more! (even if they are just random letters or a single word) Enough about the comments; like i wrote at the prologue, this series is full of pain, scars and blood. So if you don’t feel comfortable with that i suggest not to read it. I will put warnings on every chapter, but this is just a heads-up. Love ya!

Warnings: blood, scars, wounds and cuts

Words: 2.7k

PROLOGUE

- - - - - - -

Four boys shoot up in their bed. Shocked faces look at each other and at the open door. A light comes on. Five seconds it takes them to find you. On the floor in a puddle of liquid. Even with the small light it is immediately clear what the puddle is; blood.

Sheets are being thrown away and within a second eight pair of knees are placed around you. Some touch the blood, others are placed more delicately and further away. They all see the cuts right away. All across your body. On your arms, your legs, your chest and your neck.

Two strong hands pick you up carefully. But the tension is real. Not one of the boys has said another word than your name. The hands that are carrying you are strong and stable, but the person they belong to is everything but that.

The door bursts open with magic without even one of the boys taking their wand. Steady, big steps take you down the stairs, through the empty common room, through the abandoned, dark corridors.

Two loud bangs on the heavy doors and they open. You are being carried into the Hospital Wing, placed on a bed and shielded from the four scared boys. Madam Pomfrey immediately starts to whisper difficult, melodious incantations.

Outside the night bleeds into day. The first rays of sunshine light up the space. Slowly, like it is afraid to disturb the night, the sun rises on the horizon. Birds start to chirp cheerfully, but the ambiance in the Hospital Wing is the exact opposite. The four boys haven’t moved since they brought you here. Their gazes are focused on the curtains around your bed and they concentrated listen to the incantations.

After hours madam Pomfrey appears from behind the curtains. She says nothing, but nods. Four sighs escape the mouths of the worried boys. They get up to see you and when they step through the curtains they find you asleep.

The expression on your face is relaxed, but your body tells a different story. All across your body are fresh scars. The blood stains are on the sheets and the clothes on the floor. Your body has a strange pale colour. But the boys can’t stop looking at the scars. And they cannot even see all of them. Just your arms and neck are exposed to their view. A dark red line walks from your right forearm to the left side of your neck. From under the covers another line appears, just as red, and moves up to your collarbone. Even under your chin a scar walks to the right corner of your mouth.

The edges of the sheets are red and soaked with your blood. The stains are everywhere on your body. On your arms, your chest and even in your face. But the boys aren’t spared from your blood either. Their pants are red and so are their hands. They have swipes of blood on their faces from their hands.

The four boys stay at your bed until madam Pomfrey makes them move for professor Dumbledore. She sends the boys to the other side of the room aware that she won’t be able to make them leave.

All they can do is wait again. An hour they sit on chairs and beds staring at the silhouettes of the nurse and headmaster. They see your arms getting lift and sheets being pulled up. Dumbledore’s deep voice can be felt in their bones, but it is not clear what he says. After what seems like forever Pomfrey and Dumbledore step away from you. Without exchanging any words madam Pomfrey makes sure the curtains around you are closed and then walks to her office. Dumbledore walks to the boys and gestures them to follow him.

Still no one talks. In silence the four Gryffindors follow their headmaster to his office. The whole school is just as silent as that night but not as dark. The sun has risen fully and shines through the windows. But no sunshine breaks through on the faces of the boys. The corners of their mouths hang down and their eyes are pointed at the floor. Two by two they follow Dumbledore not even paying attention to where they are going.

‘Caramel toffees.’

The first words the boys hear this night. The weirdness wakes them from their trance. The walls in front of them disappear to reveal a stairwell. Dumbledore precedes the boys. He walks up five treads and stands still. The boys follow him and the stairs start to move. The higher they get the more the boys wake up.

A wooden door appears and opens when Dumbledore places his hand in front of it. In the round room there have already been four comfortable chairs placed. The Gryffindors sit down and stare at Dumbledore who sits down in front of them on the other side of the desk. His bright, blue eyes, that usually sparkle even in the dark, look like they have burned out. The sunlight glides over his face and his wrinkles get very obvious. He looks like an old man. An old, worried man.

For minutes the room is filled with silence. Not a single sound breaks the silence, not even a sniff. Even Felix the phoenix is silent, like he can sense the tension in the room. It is Dumbledore who breaks the silence by closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, but James who talks first.

‘What happened?’

And it is like his words unlock the waterfall of questions and comments the boys have gathered throughout the night.

‘Will she be okay?’

‘Who did it?’

‘The scars…’

‘How long until she will be able to talk again?’

‘It must have been dark magic…’

‘I’ve never seen such a thing…’

Dumbledore lets the boys talk until they have nothing left to say. He keeps his eyes closed the whole time and when he opens them again, he is greeted by eight worried eyes staring at him. Placing his fingertips together he takes a deep breath and starts to talk.

‘(Y/N) will be fine. She is in wonderful hands right now; Poppy is the only person I trust to take care of her. If you had found miss (Y/L/N) a minute later, she wouldn’t have made it. I know you want to know what happened to her and I will try to satisfy your thirst for the truth as much as I can, but I can only tell what I think happened. It is up to you to decide if you believe me.

‘Miss (Y/L/N) must have been hit by a curse less than fifteen minutes before you found her. This curse is not a simple one. In my life I have come across it only twice and twice the victim didn’t make it. But (Y/N) will make it,’ Dumbledore adds when he sees the worried faces. ‘She is a strong girl and will walk out of this incident with only the memory…’

‘And the scars,’ Remus mumbles while staring at his own scars.

‘Scars only show that we are strong survivors. There is nothing about it to be ashamed of.’ Dumbledore looks ahead of him but his words are pointed at Remus. ‘To answer your next question: yes, it is indeed Dark Magic. The wizard who hit miss (Y/L/N) with the spell must have done thorough research in the Restricted Section of the library. The teacher who signed the form will be examined.

‘Sadly this is all I can tell you for now. I want to ask you to fill me in on what happened. Together we can paint a more clear picture. Two minds accomplish more than one. And in this case we have five minds.’

It is Peter who tells Dumbledore what happened, sometimes with help from James. Remus keeps staring at the scars on his hands and arms. In the chair on the other side of the room Sirius is sitting. His face is pale and he has dark bags under his eyes. He is covered the most in your blood; he is the one that carried you to the Hospital Wing. His hands are red from your blood and his clothes are covered in now dried blood. He doesn’t react to anything Dumbledore or his friends say.

When Peter is done talking Dumbledore gets up and turns to the painting of Phineas Nigellus Black. ‘Phineas, please tell Horace that I will meet him in the dungeons in ten minutes.’ Then he turns to headmaster Viridian. ‘Vindictus, will you tell Minerva to assemble the professors in the teacher’s lounge?’ The two men disappear without complaints and Dumbledore turns back to the boys. ‘Don’t worry, we will find the perpetrator and (Y/N) will be well soon. Go get some sleep.’

The door opens and the four boys walk down. In silence they walk to their dorm. No one wants to talk. The picture of your body is still in their mind.

When they enter the common room there are only a few people awake. They look up weird when they see the four boys, deep in thought, sad and covered in blood. But they figure it is probably another prank they pulled and unaware of the terrible incident that happened in the school they turn back to their friends to chat about upcoming exams.

In the dorm, in the middle of the floor, is still the puddle of your blood. With a flick of Remus’ wand the blood disappears, but it still feels like it is there. James, Peter and Remus fall down on their bed but Sirius hides in the bathroom.

~-~-~

No one leaves the sixth-year-boys dormitory that day. Not until McGonagall enters it in the evening and asks the four boys to follow her. They do as told and after a few minutes they reach McGonagall’s office. She leads them in and closes the door behind her.

‘Dumbledore told me what you have told him, so no need to repeat that. Miss (Y/L/N)’s parents have been informed. They are with her right now. They would like to talk to you, but understand if you don’t want to.’

McGonagall looks at them like she just asked a question. Eventually James nods.

‘Good, I will send them here. They will just have a few questions I guess. You must be hungry,’ McGonagall says and she conjures four plates with food on her desk. ‘Eat this while I go and get Mr and Mrs (Y/L/N).’ At the door she turns around and watches the four boys dive into the food. A small smile appears on her face and then she walks away.

Ten minutes later McGonagall returns with your parents. The four boys, who had only managed to eat very little, look up to them. The tears are on your mother's face and your father looks ill. As soon as they walk in, they thank the boys. Your parents thank them for saving your life. Your mother can’t stop crying and your father’s voice is raspy. He tells the boys that you will be kept here and not go to St. Mungos.

There is not much to say. Your parents know what the boys told Dumbledore and the boys have nothing to add to that. Seeing your mother has shocked them. They can’t imagine what it is like to hear that your daughter is attacked by dark magic and she is in a life-threatening situation.

After a silence your parents announce that they will be going home. You’re not awake and there is no reason for them to stay any longer at Hogwarts. They thank the boys again and step into McGonagall’s fireplace. Your father disappears first and before your mother steps into the flames she turns to the boys.

‘I trust you to take care of my daughter. I know that that is what she would have wanted,’ she says and a tear escapes her eye. Then she steps in the flames and disappears.

~-~-~

You are still asleep and madam Pomfrey won't let the boys see you. They beg to differ, but the nurse declines. There is no point of seeing you, she says and with that she closes the door.

Defeated the four Gryffindors retreat to their dorm. No one knows about the incident yet. Every student is happily enjoying the beautiful weather and the common room is almost empty.

The boys try to act natural as they walk through the common room but their faces reveal more than they want. Fortunately for them, the expression on Sirius’ face is enough to keep any unwanted conversations away.

In the dormitory every boy focuses on himself. Remus turns to his emergency chocolate-stack, Peter opens and closes his favourite book again and again, James starts to play with his stolen snitch and Sirius isolates himself from his friends by closing the curtains around his bed. The room stays silent, with only the sound of chocolate breaking and pages being turned.

The evening turns into night, but only Peter falls asleep when the sun rises again. The other three boys stay awake, too scared of what their sleep will bring them. The whole night they don't move. Remus on his back in his bed, covered with blankets hoping to catch some sleep but knowing that he won't. James is laying on his stomach, feet dangling off one side of the bed, arms off the other, with his head buried in his pillow so no one will see the tears that escape his eyes. Sirius, still hidden away from his friends, sitting straight up in his bed, eyes focused on one point, not letting himself slip into sleep.

But even though Peter fell asleep at sunrise, he doesn't sleep much. His usual snores have disappeared and every thirty minutes he wakes up with the image of your body covered in blood. Every time he wakes up the images get worse and worse, until Peter doesn't fall asleep anymore.

At six o'clock Peter gets up. He can't stay in his bed any longer. After getting dressed he drags the other boys out of bed too. James grumbles but gets up too, Remus follows just a few minutes later but Sirius doesn't respond.

‘Pads, if you don't eat you'll get sick.’

Nothing.

‘Sirius, come on. You have to eat something.’

Still nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, only the promise of dropping by the Hospital Wing after breakfast gets Sirius out of bed. He looks terrible. The bags under his eyes are darker than the other boys' and his cheeks more hollow. His skin is pale, but less pale than yesterday. His eyes are red from crying and the shock is still in them, like he just heard what happened.

The Great Hall is empty. No one is at breakfast this early. Not even one teacher is at the teacher's table. The deafening silence fills the hall with mystery. The empty spaces seem reserved for spirits, not living teenage boys.

The ceiling shows today will be just as a beautiful day weather-wise as yesterday. The last red from the sunrise disappears and a blue sky stretches out over the space. The sunlight breaks in through the big windows and bathes the hall in golden light.

But neither the blue sky nor the sight of the food makes the boys feel better. In silence they eat their breakfast, chewing but tasting nothing. The toast tastes like cardboard and the coffee is bitter.

Sirius is the first one to drop his food. His barely touched breakfast lies on the plate but it doesn't look appetizing. Sirius stares at his eggs, shining in the light from the sun that comes from the big windows behind him. His throat is dry and all he can think about is you. He misses your presence, your positivity and the way you make butterflies appear in his stomach. Your smile is the only thing Sirius gets up for in the morning. That gorgeous smile that creates dimples in your cheeks. Your giggles are the most pure sound in the world and Sirius misses them. Missing your smile reminds him of home, the only time of the year when he doesn't get to see your smile.

Your absence and the reminder of home are enough to almost make Sirius throw up the little he had eaten. But he has to be strong. For you.

----------

taglist:

Cursed: @starcross16 @racerparker

Sirius Black:@treestarrrrrrrr @bumbelbeeesblog @with1love1anu @transparentttttttttt @sirius-satellite @cheoco @girllety @figlia-della-luna @malikinglove @alwaysinmydaydreams @eateraa @bi-andready-tocry @fangirlofbooksandpasta @littlemissgothgirl @always394patronus @heavenly-ascended-melodies @mrs-moony @coldlilheart @fific7

Marauders: @secretsthathauntus @ronniethelost @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @hxrgreeves @belovedadam @wecouldbreakthedistance

Harry Potter: @kitkatkl @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti

let me know if you want to be added! (also it won’t let me tag some people? idk why, but it makes me pretty pissed)

MASTERLIST

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black imagine #marauders imagine #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #harry potter #harry potter x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius x you #sirius black x y/n #cursed

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theblackqueen-ofmyheart · 3 years

Text

Rant post because I’m tired of seeing Loki critics who don’t engage their critical thinking skills. I don’t think I should have to offer more warning further than that but if I do. Fair warning, reading further will probably tick you off to some degree if you have criticized the show so far. Also spoilers.

No marvel didn’t pick between incest and homosexuality. Mobius and Loki had no romantic chemistry. They barely had chemistry as friends. Loki and Slyvie didn’t have romantic chemistry either but at least they had chemistry as friends. And the kiss was her using his moment of vulnerability to her advantage. If you’re upset about queerbating you’re the type of shipper Anthony Mackie was calling out. You saw two men on screen and immediately decided they were gay for each other despite Mobius activity torturing, belittling, using and manipulating Loki. And even if they did have chemistry loki and Slyvie are both Bisexual or pansexual depending on how you’d like to label them. If they were to end up together, yes, it would be weird but that doesn’t make them any less bisexual or pansexual and if you think it does then you’re more of an issue than marvel is.

“I thought the Loki show would focus on Loki not these other people” you mean these other people who are mostly Loki variants? These other people who are also loki? We were never told it would focus solely on 2012 Loki, we were just told it was a show about Loki. No matter which Loki it focuses on it’s still focusing on Loki.

“Kang was annoying. I didn’t like him” GOOD, maybe we aren’t supposed to?? Almost every story has an antagonist. Kang was one of the the antagonists of Loki, not every antagonist needs to be likeable. People got too comfy thirsting after villains to realize not every one needs to be someone you can like. Hats off to the actor for making Kang someone not everyone will like, especially because he was honestly fun and bubbly.

“Ewww, Loki and Slyvie kissed” did I like it? No. Did I want it? No. But like I said before it was a tactic to get what she needed. If the Slyki shippers want their moment let them have it. Who is it going to harm? If you don’t like it you can see it as a tactic. If you did like it see it as romantic as you want go shippers! And I know we all saw those “would you fuck your clone?” posts that would go around and most of the time loki would be under “yes, who would know how to fuck me better than me?” We all knew Loki would fuck another Loki given the chance this is old news.

“Why was this not explained? Why was that like that? Why was??????” Google it….Wanda vision and Loki have very strong comic ties, google it and you’ll likely find your answers.

“Wow, Loki can’t even enchant something without Slyvie’s help because she’s soooo important” HE SAYS HE CANT FFS!! More than once even. On the train he is amazed she knows how to enchant minds and that she taught herself how to do that. And then right before they go to enchant Alioth he says he doesn’t know how. Her gripping his hand tighter doesn’t have to be anything more than her reassuring him that he can do it if he tries. Or maybe her communicating mentally with him to show him how to. You guys were the ones who decided it was him being useless without her help. And again, so what if that’s the direction it was going? If it focuses on slyvie over 2012 loki it’s still a show about loki.

“The ending was so unsatisfying” I’ll give you that it was pretty bland and anticlimactic but remember there’s a season 2 coming and we don’t know what’s going to happen there.

You can be upset about the show but at least use your minds and what was freely given before you pick it apart like what you’re criticizing isn’t explained in one form or another or at least isn’t something that’s a given. I have so many loki hate tags blocked right now and I’m still seeing loki hate popping up and it’s ticking me off how little people are using their thinking skills over this show. Do I love loki? Yes. Do I think they were done dirty by the show? To a degree yes. Can I still enjoy it instead of picking it apart? Yes!

I’m not a Wanda or a vision fan so I didn’t watch Wandavision past a few episodes because I didn’t like it much. Instead I stayed up to date by interacting with people who did watch it, Google, and comic knowledge because it is comic content heavy, much like Loki. I didn’t pick it apart despite not liking it. Y’all kept watching a show you’re disappointed by then wonder why you’re still disappointed like you didn’t set yourselves up for it. It’s something even kids know, don’t like something walk away. The internet is great for keeping up to date with things you’re not actually interacting with if you want to know what’s going on but don’t wanna actually subject yourself to it, supernatural drama is a great example.

#Loki spoilers #I don’t even know what to tag this as beyond that #loki criticism critic #??#“prepares myself for any hate on this post or my in box“#oh look at that….I did a tag thing…huh #Loki #mobius #Slyvie #rant post #tagged with characters so people with those tags filtered can filter this #yes I know it’ll show up for people who follow those tags #but maybe they need to see it

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