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bonny-kookoo · 16 days

Text

Jungkook

Princess | Limits [Final]

There's only so much he can take.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, misunderstanding, smut, (slightly) mean Dom kook, a slap to the thigh, uh, knot is mentioned, it's nasty, unprotected but MC is mentioned to be on birth control, he holds her by the throat? Idk he also has his fingers in her mouth-

Length: 5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

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A/N: This will act as a final chapter. The main story is therefore wrapped up- but as always, if you want drabbles, you can still request them.

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Jungkook has never understood the phrase of your ‘heart stopping’- because how could it ever? You’d be dead in that case. But right in this moment, he finally gains the knowledge by experiencing it first hand- eyes wide open and body frozen.

Why are you in his bed? Barely dressed, snuggled up to him who’s only in his underwear?

He thinks through the whole process of yesterday to make sense of this. Did you both get potentially drunk last night? No, not at all. You and him had simply packed your things to drive you to your parents hours away, after having contacted them and told them about everything. He remembers driving you there himself, unloading your bags, leaving you there after waving and driving off. And added to that, that was not last night. It was almost an entire week ago.

He hasn’t seen you in days. So what are you doing here?

It’s not a dream either, clock on his nightstand ticking away, world outside going about its day as the window isn’t all closed to let some fresh air in at night. And yet, you’re there- bare legs entangled with his, arms holding onto his.

He doesn’t really feel alarmed by the fact that you somehow entered his apartment- you know where he lives after all, and you know the passcode to his door, so it’s not really surprising at all. But what he is questioning is why you’re here- and why you’re in his bed, most of all. Has he forgotten some conversation you might’ve had? Or has something happened to make you so upset that you were craving the comfort of him at any cost?

Now he’s worried.

Shaking you a little to wake you up seems to not be very effective- because you just frown, slap his hand away and bury your face right back into his shoulder as if he’s nothing but an annoying fly. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook tells you, and at that you actually open one of your eyes, looking up at him with your tail wagging beneath the covers. “What’re you doing here?” He asks, and you frown again turning onto your back to look up at him who’s sat up by now.

“Why do you sound so upset about that?” You complain with almost a pout in your tone, arms crossed. “I thought couples love reuniting.” You say, and he looks at you, confused.

“Couples?” He questions, and you nod, now visibly unsure as well.

“Well, yeah?” You say, attitude fading and being replaced by uncertainty. “I mean.. we haven’t said the L-word yet, but like.. I thought..” you start, scanning his face for any sign that he realizes what you believed you two were. “..since you uh.. called me baby in the car..” you drift off, and still- there’s no sign of anything on Jungkook’s face as he thinks, and digs around in his memories for the correct moment he might’ve said that. He did, maybe. But he doesn’t remember.

“did I?” He asks, and regrets it the moment he watches the shame visibly wash over you- from the way your ears pin back to the slight change in your gaze, he knows he fucked up by saying it loud- and he’s a little too late as you roll out the bed and run for the bathroom after picking something up from the floor, hiding away now. “hey- wait.” He asks, getting up to walk towards the bathroom floor, knocking on it just to not get an answer. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding-“ He starts, trying hard to calm you down- but it’s clearly not working as the door opens, and you slip right past him to run towards the door where your shoes are. “Hey no- stay, let’s talk-“

“Nuh-uh, nop, this is so embarrassing-“ You rant, visibly frustrated over the shoes not closing fast enough as your hands are too shaky to really tie them. So you just make a simple knot and stuff the laces into the corners, before a tattooed hand snatches your other shoe from you. “give that back!” You bark, not looking at him however as you reach for the shoe he’s holding too high for you. “stop-“

“stop, exactly. Don’t run off now, I’m sorry if I said something that made you think we were more than we are.” He explains, and you visibly deflate at that, ears down low just like your tail. “let me get dressed, and we can talk, okay?” He asks again, and you just shrug.

He sighs as he puts down the shoe and leaves to tug a shirt and pants onto himself- before he realizes his mistake too late-

Door already slamming shut, your jacket the only thing you left at his place.

Fuck.

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He’s been knocking since forever it feels like- but even at his third visit today, you refuse to open the door.

You still got a week left in your apartment- but he knows from first hand experience that you got almost no furniture at all in there anymore, so this can’t be an option for you to sleep at. He doesn’t want you to be upset at him- and in hindsight, he really could’ve worded things a bit better, but he’s still new to this as much as you are. “please let me in.” He requests once more as he’s done so often today, sighing. “I missed you too, you know?” He tries this time around, and to be honest, that’s not even a lie.

Its odd how at first glance, he never thought he’d ever get along with you. But having you gone for almost an entire week, he really felt the way you’d somehow snuck into his heart- every task back to being mundane without you causing a little chaos in his daily life here and there.

“That’s a lie.” You say, door open just a crack to glare at him through.

“Its not.” He denies. “I just think we never actually talked about what we want to be- so I was surprised to just.. have you turn up out of nowhere in my bed.” He chuckles a little, and you just look down to the floor in shame.

“M’ sorry.” You apologize. “won’t happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Your gaze snaps up at him at that, confused. “I was just a bit caught off guard, and honestly worried. Did something happen at your parent’s?” He wonders, and you sigh, opening the door to let him into the almost entirely unfurnished apartment- a pile of clothes and a blanket being the last items that were probably used as a makeshift resting spot for you today laying in the corner of the main living room. You sit down there, before letting yourself fall to the side as if exhausted, before you shrug, Jungkook sitting on the floor across from you. “it was.. I don’t know.” You admit. “I love them. And I was really super happy to see them again, and spend time there..” you explain, before you pull the blanket between your fingers to have something to hold onto while you stare into nothingness. “But it was.. really a lot.. I don’t know how to explain.”

“I guess that’s normal. You know, being overwhelmed with it.” Jungkook sympathizes. “I’m exhausted too after spending a day or two with my entire family-pack. Nothing to worry about.” He explains, and you just nod, still avoiding eye contact. “I think what’s important now then, is what we are to one another. You can’t just break into my apartment and sneak into my bed without formally asking me out, you know?” He jokes, but your glare is filled with embarrassment.

“Now I don’t want to anymore.” You huff, before you turn around- and at that, Jungkook feels an odd rush underneath his skull, fueled by your subtle and underlying confession in your words.

“You love me though, don’t you?” He asks, leaning in closer as he sits near you now, a hand on your shoulder. “all you need to do is say it.” He chuckles, as you curl up more into yourself as if that would hide you.

“And then what?” You huff. “You’ll-“

“I’ll say it back.” He cuts you off. “or I’ll say it first, it’s no issue. At this point it’s pretty obvious that I’m starting to fall in love with you.” He easily spills, and you freeze before you slowly unravel, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a face full of wonder.

“You are?” You ask hesitantly, and he smiles, before he nods.

“I am.” He responds, confirms his words and you sit up at that, facing him now. “are you?” He wonders, and you nod.

“I am.” You answer, and he laughs.

“See? Nothing to be scared of. Now come on, I’m not letting you sleep here.” He says, standing up with you to pick up your stuff-

Unaware of the absolute Rollercoaster he just signed himself up for.

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Jungkook did not know what he got into when basically confessing his growing feelings.

His mundane life is pretty much over at this point, with you always around and currently basically having moved in until you can figure out if this works or not. After all, you’re not used to living with someone else- and it’s clear that no matter what, you’re the opposite of an angel, still trying your tricks on him to make him dance around like you want him to.

But Jungkook isn’t this easy to control. And in a way, it’s a little fun to see how much you can get away with.

“Jesus christ, put some clothes on.!” Jungkook curses as be spots you laying on your stomach on his couch, in nothing but a simple top and underwear, tail wagging. The wolf hybrid has to turn away, distract himself with the task of turning the volume of the TV lower, while you just don’t understand what his fussing is all about, game on your little console in your hands on pause.

“Why?” You ask because of that, not sure why he’s being so overly dramatic in your opinion. It’s just your legs, maybe your butt. So?

“because- just put at least some pants on.”, he groans, and you roll your eyes, before you continue your game instead.

You’re not listening. And he’s not sure if it’s your character- or if you think his decreasing patience is funny to watch.

“Do I have to turn the wifi off to get your full attention?” jungkook asks a little irritated, and you shrug.

“Don’t care.” You respond, eyes on the little screen between your hands. “the game doesn’t need internet.”

Suddenly however, the console is taken out of your hands, as he saves your current progress, and puts it into the charging station near the TV. “Hey!” You complain, getting up now to rush towards him- and as he makes sure you can’t get to your precious game again, he notices that God fucking damn it, you’re not wearing a bra beneath this very flimsy shirt.

You’re really testing him.

“Put pants on.” He says, and you have the audacity to laugh.

“Nah.” You deny, stretching before you step away from him, walking towards the bedroom. “I’ll just take a na-“ you don’t get to say much else, as he suddenly tugs on your tail with just enough force to make it count- but nowhere near enough to hurt. “Hey!” You turn around instantly, just to be basically cornered by the wolf hybrid, who’s backing you into a wall in the living room.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth there.” He simply says, but it sounds like a threat almost-, a very specific kind of threat that makes your skin shiver. “But you tend to forget when to shut it, clearly.” He scoffs, as your back hits the wall, making you swallow your own saliva nervously.

But he can sense, smell, that this is affecting you not in the direction of fear- but something else entirely.

“You’re so lucky, you know?” He asks, somewhat- and you look at him with question. “I’m not usually patient like that.”

“What would you have done?” You ask, unable to really keep it in as you know that if you hesitate for just a second, you’ll never be able to say this out loud, ask for such things. You want them, but you’re also nervous, considering you’ve never actually gotten this far with anyone before. “Put me in timeout?” You almost challenge, tail beginning to sway a little with newfound confidence, when he just shrugs it off, and shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “Brats like you need something that.. Lasts longer.” He words out, and at that, scenes manifest inside your head that make you visibly shy.

You’re not sure if he realized it yet, but a lot of the things you do, you do on full purpose. You like this game of push and pull, you think its exciting and fun- so you hope that with words like that, he means them as such, because that would mean that he’s both aware of the little game you’re playing, and also a willing participant in it.

You don’t want him to just feel like you’re made of porcelain, possibly breaking at the slightest touch.

“Such as?” You ask, and he leans in closer at that, almost unbearably so.

“fuck around and find out, Princess.”

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Turns out you can be sickeningly sweet almost when you really want to- currently happily laying on his stomach after helping him cook and wash the dishes after, awfully nice today and in a good mood.

It makes him wonder. Are you up to something? Or are you simply not who he thought you were? It would be just a slight bit disappointing, if he was to be honest- considering he’d actually grown quite fond of the idea of you with your ass spanked bright red, Jungkook basically having to work for your submission. But maybe you’re just all bark and no bite- just yapping around, nothing more than that.

Even that would be fine at this point, as long as he’s got you.

It’s when the male lead kisses the female love interest in the admittedly boring drama you both watch on TV, than he notices you staring at the scene. He’s notice too that at this point in time, one might think you would’ve kissed by now- but that’s not the case, neither of you seemingly brave enough to make that step towards the other. But it’s clear from the way you look at the scene in front of you with a shy sense of longing, that you want it- he just needs to find the perfect moment for it.

After all, he doesn’t just want to be any partner for you. He wants to be the one and only.

“I’m tired.” You yawn and stretch, arms above your head before you look at him. “can I get a goodnight-kiss?” You boldly ask, and Jungkook laughs, before he moves to basically lean over you entirely, hands pressing into the cushioning of the couch below you.

And then he finally leans in to peck your lips- or at least that was his intention. You chase after his lips and even move your hands to pull him back, making him act on instinct as he pushes them back, pins them down with his fingers around your wrists. But he has to admit, either the lip balm you’re using is sweet as honey, or he’s surely found the perfect person to kiss in you-

Because he doesn’t want to stop either.

“You said you’re tired.” He hums in when you break apart for just a second, and you shake your head.

“not anymore.” You deny his claims, making him chuckle.

“Not anymore?” He repeats, teasingly escaping your advances. You shake your head, as your legs move to rest around his waist, signals sent pretty clear to him as he watches you try and seduce him. “You’re right.. You’re clearly not yet tired.” He mumbles, as he leans down to kiss you again, letting himself be swept away by the moment, as you both just enjoy each other’s presence.

“Jungkook..” you whine impatiently, hips squirming around in search of any form of friction, while he just laughs under his breath.

“What do you want?” He asks. “this is our first time, after all. I don’t know what you like- or what you can handle.” He teases- though it’s clear that there’s an underlying truth to his words. This is indeed clearly going in a very obvious direction, and you feel warm inside knowing that he actually cares this much about your experience during this.

“I don’t know..” you admit. “I just.. always do it myself, so I don’t know.” You tell him, and he nods, accepting that as his kisses move to your neck, where he makes sure to leave his marks.

Because he wants you to be his, and his alone.

“how far do you want to go?” He asks, pausing his advances for a moment to look at you.

“All the way.” You tell him, and he nods.

“You sure?” He questions, and again, you nod- this time visibly serious.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with like that than you.” You say, and he soaks those words up like a sponge, before he leans back down to kiss you- softer now, more gentle, as if he’s savoring you and your open appreciation for him in this moment.

And he does. He really does.

And you know, through the softness of his touch and the slow and gentle manner in which he undresses you, that tonight, he’s going easy on you.

Tonight, he’s just going to show you real love.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Something clicked into place last night.

As if he’s finally committed himself to you, he’s relaxed, comfortable and most of all; confident. And you’re strangely excited about this new side of him, because it’s unbelievably entertaining to play around with him now that he’s not holding himself back any longer.

Youre currently all laughing, some friend’s of Jungkook’s having spotted him at the grocery store with you, eager to get to know the girl who made him catch feelings. And you’re having a lot of fun hearing some embarrassing facts about your now boyfriend- who’s also laughing along, despite being the butt of the joke. Even when you make jokes about him too he doesn’t seem bothered-

Until a hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing down a little to make sure you know he’s got a good grip on you. And like a cat grabbed by its weak spot, you freeze, one look at him making you almost cower in public as his dark eyes gaze down at you. “yeah- but I think we’ll better head home now.” Jungkook decides to his friends, casually smiling while he says goodbye to his friends. And even when his hand leaves you, you’re strangely affected- waiting for something to happen, as he calmly brings the groceries to the car.

You must’ve gotten away this time, since he seems pretty relaxed on the way back home. Good thing you were in public.

However, once back inside your now shared four walls, things take a turn again when, instead of helping him unpack the groceries, you lounge on his sofa- TV instantly turned on as you watch, and Jungkook makes sure to put everything where it belongs by himself.

Your punishment follows late- but you know when it’s time.

The TV is wordlessly turned off, but you stop mid-breath trying to complain about it, because the smile he sends you is none of pure kindness. He looks almost like a villain ready to move on with his sinister plans, as he approaches you. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” He asks, and when you don’t reply, he clarifies further. “you love getting on my nerves.” He states, and you have the audacity to shrug.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

That was definitely your last mistake made- challenging him, well aware of how he will potentially punish you.

He’s quick to grab at your hips, no matter how fast you’d wanted to dash off. His grip is tight and secure as he carries you unto the bedroom, where he closes the door with his foot, putting you down on the big mattress. And there you sit- waiting, not sure what his silence means.

“Early bedtime, huh?” You scoff, trying to appear unimpressed.

“Its what you make of it.” He however answers. “this is your last chance to get on my good side, Princess.”

“or what?” You ask with an attitude, still not believing in hit bite at all.

Jungkook sits down at that, back against the door, eyes reflecting a little in the darkness of the bedroom. He’s a wolf, deep down, even if he’s mixed- he’s got time, and patience, and he knows it. He’s well aware that after yesterday’s endeavors, you’ve been trying to ‘seduce’ him all day long- wanting more, wanting it again, because as you’d told him last night, you ‘can’t do it the same he does’. It’s normal, as a hybrid-

And as someone like you in particular, who craves everything pleasurable in life.

You’re still sitting there, waiting, adjusting your position a bit, squirming under his watchful eyes. You’re not sure what he’s aiming at here, but it makes you a little uncomfortable-

Mostly because you can feel the way your underwear is soaking up your arousal over this entire situation.

“Go to sleep, baby.” He tells you with fake gentleness in his voice. “it’s late, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to sleep.” You respond, and he chuckles.

“I know.” He tells you.

“Jungkook..” you whine, hoping this will be enough to break him. “I’m sorry..” you admit, ears drooping low, as you look at your lap in shame.

But he’s not fooled.

“try again, princess.” He simply says. “I know you’re not sorry.”

Fuck. What else could you do to get him to crack?

Manipulating him into doing what you wanted him to has worked in the past, so it shouldn’t be this hard. And he’s already seen you naked yesterday, so you don’t have to have shame about what you do next- moving your legs to give him a bit of a teaser to your soiled underwear beneath your skirt, feet digging into the bed below as you try and get under his skin this way.

“…can you help me?” You wonder, noticing how his eyes were captured by the sight for just a second.

“I can.” He nods, getting up to walk over to you- and your tail wags, triumph yours to claim. It’s still so easy to make him dance around like a puppet on strings, because down the line, he’s just another guy who’s quickly caught up in his own lust-

His face is inches from yours, eyes piercing into yours as he still got that wolfish smirk on his lips.

“But I don’t want to.”

Wait- that’s not part of the script.

“do it yourself, puppy.” He laughs, opening the bedroom door. “You know how to-“

“No!” You call out, making him turn his head over his shoulder to look at you. “I want you!” You argue, making him laugh.

“too bad.” He denies, and at that you get up, one leg out of the bed already. “get back on the bed.” He demands, and you huff.

“so you really putting me in timeout?” You scoff, stepping out with the other leg as well.

“You want to act like a brat so I’ll treat you as such.” He explains. “get back on the bed until I’m done cooking.”

“No.” You deny, walking closer.

He says your name, low and clearly in a warning, but you don’t care.

It’s then that your world turns upside down for a second, before you’re thrown back onto the bouncing mattress. You can’t help the sound that escapes your lips at his display of strength over you, a hand still on your arm to push you down. “does pissing me off make you that horny?” He asks, almost in a demeaning tone. “gushing into your panties just because you’re getting on my nerves, huh?” He continues, and your tail still wags.

“Its funny.” You admit, giggling, when a hand slaps your inner thigh, skirt having risen up to cover basically nothing anymore. “ah-!” You call out in surprise, making him laugh.

“it is.” He agrees. “it’s funny how you think you can play me.”

The next second, he’s tugging your underwear off of you, strings of sticky arousal still trying to hold onto the soiled fabric for a good stretch before the piece of clothing is thrown somewhere. “gotta get you off to make you listen?” He asks, agitated, hand between your legs a complete contrast to the gentle way he’s helped you reach highest pleasure last night. “gotta fuck you stupid so you’re finally a good girl for once?” He questions, and you just nod, frantically, overwhelmed by the way he pushes two of his fingers in already, thumb rolling over your most sensitive spot.

“Please-“ you start, but he only laughs down at you.

“Please? That’s a new sound.” He mocks you. His ruthless acts down settle down at all however- instead, he takes his hand away from you, and wipes it on his pants. You’re left alone, watching him, unsure what’s happening. “You ready to listen?” He asks. What an asshole. He knows exactly that in your state you’d accept anything-

“Why did you stop?” You whine however, and your downfall has been sealed.

Only moments later, as you try and escape, he’s on top of you, using his entire body to cage you in, hand around your throat- though he’s gentle enough to not hurt you at all. The hold he has still arches your back, pushes your behind right into him. And considering the fact that you’re on birth control, he doesn’t need to search for any other contraceptive right now, able to just pull himself out of his cotton pants, not needing much to get himself ready.

You whine in complaint when he pushes in. He knows it’s a bluff.

“oh shut up.” He growls into the back of your neck. “You can take it.” He states, well aware that you can. And it seems like finally, you’re quiet and compliant- if only after his fingers press down on your tongue, occupying your mouth with something other than whining. “so this is what it needs to shut you up?” He mocks you. “my cock inside, and my fingers in your mouth?” He purrs against your neck, and you just whimper pathetically.

His pace is steady, but he doesn’t even need to move anymore he notices- you’re for once doing all the work for him, bouncing on his lap like you’ve done this a million times already.

Your stamina does however not match up with his, as your thighs quiver, orgasm approaching you and causing you to lose tempo. Something he catches up on- taking over as he rolls his hips into you with dancer’s precision, while you emit sounds of pleasure the second his digits leave your mouth. You fall forward once he lets go of you entirely, spent.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He however days, as he manhandles you onto your back beneath him, hands tugging on your legs to move them exactly where he wants them. “wants to be fucked stupid but can’t even keep up with me.” He teases, shaking his head as he pushes his length through your thighs, remnants of your own arousal making the movement easy and slick. Your hands reach out sleepily, fingers touching the very tip every time it appears between your legs, and you giggle, visibly out of your mind.

But he notices something else too.

You look entirely relaxed, not even a glimmer of any of your usual insecurities present. You’re just existing in the moment, enjoying this, enjoying what he offers you, and nothing else.

Your head must really just be TV static.

You open your legs again, whining once more as he watches you reach for his hips- one orgasm not enough still, or maybe you just want to please him the best you can. He’s going easy on you this time, he decides, complying with your wordless demand to get back inside you, a wish he happily grants.

You don’t hold back, only shutting up when he leans down to kiss you, needy and chaotic, tongue and bitten lips. But once his hand is between you both, pushing you over the edge alongside him, you squirm once more- his release spilling inside of you, something swelling that you didn’t feel yesterday.

It’s him. He’s locking himself inside you to make sure you don’t spill any of it.

Which isn’t all that easy, since he appears to be a but of an overachiever- some of it already escaping you the second he softens up, cunt pushing out the translucent white as he pulls out of you.

You’re a mess.

Clothes somewhat still on, skin sweaty, opening between hour legs still gaping, clenching around nothing as your body calms down.

But, to be fair-

You also, finally, shut your mouth.

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“You can be so gentle!” You complain as he helps you put lotion on your skin after your shower, already back to your old self not even a couple of hours after.

“I can.” He laughs.

“But something tells me that you like it rough.”

Oh-

How right he is.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook fanfic

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gucciwins · 1 year

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idk if u do requests but a fic about Harry’s “how is your head?” show interaction would be amazing 🥲 where he gets the fan backstage and well we know where this goes!!

a few weeks since i've written anything so i hope you enjoy 🤭 word count: 2461 warnings: smut (male pleasure) would love hear your thoughts!!! 🤍🤍🤍

Australia had been a dream from the moment he arrived. Tonight’s show had managed to leave him breathless. He takes a minute to eye the crowd as he walks down the stage to sing Matilda, a change of pace for the night. A sign right in front catches his eye, and he knows he has to read it. There were two people dressed in their best outfits. One stands out to him, the bold red lip standing out against her black top. Safe to say, Harry had always been a fan of red-painted lips. The fan holding the sign has it over the barricade, not blocking anyone’s view. He bit back a smile; she was considerate. He glanced at Ny Oh and decided he would rather indulge in his curiosity than be left with the unknown.

Harry grabs his mic and points down to their signs. “Now, there are two signs here. What are your names?”

“Twenty-six,” the blonde hair person answers, making the red-lipped beauty laugh.

“Asked for your name, not your age,” he corrects her.

The blonde points to herself, shouting “Violet,” and then points to the beauty with red lips, “she’s Y/N also twenty-six.” Harry holds in his laugh but is thankful nonetheless.

“Right, well, your sign says your bestie broke your nose during Melbourne night one. And yours says I broke my bestie’s nose.” Harry shakes his head because it’s a bit odd. Also, the fact that he didn’t spot her in the crowd a few nights ago makes him happy to have spotted her now.

Y/N was doing her best to stay calm because Violet was doing all the freaking out for her. Violet said they had to make the signs as a joke, and if nothing came about, it would make good photos and a great story to share. Well, now Y/N’s feeling grateful to have listened to her. Y/N knew that many said Harry loved eye contact, but she didn’t understand that until today. He was speaking with Violet, but his eyes had not left Y/N’s. He was far enough that she couldn’t note how green they were but close enough to know they had a shine to them under the moon.

“It was an accident,” Y/N is quick to shout.

Harry repeats her words laughing, “well, I’d hope so.” He makes a joke making sure his eyes are on her, hoping she’d find it funny. Y/N takes the teasing in stride. He notices her phone is in her pocket and notes to keep an eye on that during the show.

“Remember, violence is never the answer,” he teases.

“It was her fault,” Y/N shares feeling the need to explain.

Harry’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “Why was it her fault? Her nose is broken.”

Y/N and Violet share a look before falling into a fit of giggles. “I hit her head,” Violet confesses.

Harry listens to them explain and recaps to the crowd. “You headbanged too hard and hit your nose on her head. I didn’t think Satellite was a dangerous song, but here we are now with a broken nose later.”

Y/N knows her time with Harry’s eyes on her is ending soon, so she does something she never thought of doing until she feels his eyes on her.

“No one has asked me how my head is,” Y/N tells him, faking a pout.

He looks dead in her eyes, “well, it’s what happens when you break your friend’s nose.” Harry has those pouted lips imprinted in his mind and doesn’t have the heart to not check back in with her. “How is your head?”

Y/N shrugs, “never had any complaints.” She sends him a wink laughing as his mouth falls open. He walked himself right into that one. The stadium is laughing, and Harry feels his cheeks warm up because he pictures those red lips wrapped around his cock and tries to will the stiffy she caused away.

“We are in Australia, aren’t we?” Harry forces himself to look away from her and instead transition into the saddest song of the night.

The show had Y/N dancing and singing with her best friend. Call her crazy, but she felt Harry come down the stage staring at her, putting on all his best moves to woo her. Y/N had always thought Harry was pretty, but tonight in his pink ringer tee, she thought he was sexy. Harry can wear anything and make it look good because he wears the clothes, and his confidence shines through every time.

The show’s ending comes far too quick. A female security guard makes their way to Y/N, offering her a handshake telling her she has a nice top, and walks away. No one seemed to think anything about it, and she knew that meant no one saw the paper she slipped into her hand. Y/N carefully opens the note telling her to come towards the side entrance because a band member wanted to meet her. A little mention that it’s okay to bring her friend. Y/N decides to enjoy the final song and then share the news with Violet because they were saying yes to going backstage.

Violet could not stop talking as they let the fans move around them. Y/N spotted the security who gave her the note and signaled Y/N to come to her. She helped them around the barricade and took them backstage. Y/N didn’t know what to expect, but she sure didn’t expect to see the Love band sitting on couches, drinks in hand. Y/N and Violet tried to act cool but knew they must look like deer caught in headlights.

“Hi, welcome,” Ny Oh greets. “Your story was hilarious.”

Y/N feels her face flush because it’s kind of embarrassing. She told a sold-out stadium her head was good; specifically, she told Harry Styles. Her favorite singer.

Pauli’s eyes light up in recognition, “oh, you, too, had the best sign so far. Hope you’re okay.” Pauli tells Violet.

Violet thanked him, quick to tell the band how amazing they were. Y/N chimes in and is grateful for how welcoming the band has made them feel. Y/N hates to ruin the conversation but has to use the restroom. Lloyd offers to walk her, which she is thankful for. He points to a room, telling her to take her time that no one was using it. Y/N thanked him before going in to do her business. She walks out and jumps in surprise to see someone sitting on the couch. Not just anyone, Harry Styles.

He smirks, noting how jumpy she is. “Sorry, love.”

She shakes her head, “no, uh, they told me it was okay to use the restroom. Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

Harry shakes his head. “All good. Y/N, right?”

“Right,” she confirms for him. “And you are?”

Harry chuckles under his breath, she’s cheeky, and he loves that. “‘M Harry, love.”

Y/N nods, taking him in. He quickly got out of his outfit for the night and now is only in a hoodie and sweats. She goes to excuse herself, but Y/N knows she doesn’t want to leave his side, not when this might be her only chance at meeting Harry.

“You were amazing tonight. Seen a few of your shows, truly a sight to behold.” Y/N gushes, not caring if he might think of her as a fangirl for saying so because he deserves the praise.

Harry bends his head, “thank you,” he whispers. He’s nervous. Y/N can tell because he’s playing with the rings on his fingers, but when he raises his head, Harry stares at her like he’s ready to devour her, and Y/N is prepared. She knows this might be for one night but doesn’t have it in herself to tell him no.

“Haven’t done this before,” he explains.

Y/N takes a step closer to him. “A conversation or a one-night stand.”

“Asking a fan backstage.”

Y/N feels her breath hitch at the confirmation that he was the one who invited her backstage. “Can’t say I have either.”

Harry laughs, “Sure, you haven’t. You’re kind of hard to miss in the crowd.”

She can’t help how quick her face warms up at the compliment, “Last time I dated someone in a band, I was in uni, and he played the bass. Can’t say it ended too well.”

“Fuck him then.” Harry shrugs, standing up from the couch and stepping close to her. “You don’t have to stay if you’re not comfortable.”

“And if I want to stay,” she breathes out.

Harry smirks. “Then I’d say get on your knees because it seems you’ve got something to prove.”

Y/N was not expecting him to be so forward, but she had never backed down from a challenge. Y/N loved pleasuring her partners something about having them at her mercy always got her wet and made for the perfect foreplay. “Are you sure?” Y/N checks in with Harry.

“Yes,” he breathes out, overwhelmed seeing her on her knees for him.

With one firm tug, his sweats slide down and frees his dick. He’s hard, and Y/N swears she’s never seen a prettier cock. Y/N palms his bare length, relishing the feel of his smooth skin against her hand. Y/N lets her hand rest, one on each thigh, and her eyes linger on his tiger tattoo for a second too long. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss. Y/N hears him let out the most delicate moan, which urges her forward. She lets her tongue grace the drop of arousal glistening on the tip of his cock. Harry moans out her name, wanting her to take him in her mouth already.

“Okay?”

“Perfect,” he rasps out.

That’s all she needs to begin. Opening her jaw wide, she takes him in her mouth. Her tongue swirls and her cheeks hollow out as she sucks. Harry’s hand finds its way to her hair while she sucks his cock deep in her mouth, showing him how much she wants this. How much she’s enjoying him in her mouth. Y/N sinks her nails into his thighs, and Harry hisses at the pain tightening his grip on her hair, making Y/N moan, needing more, wanting more.

Y/N tilts her head back and peers up at his eyes through her lashes, feeling his length bump against her throat. She notes the heat and desire in his green irises, letting him take a bit more control as his fingers tighten around her hair and move her head to a rhythm that suits him, and Y/N lets him fuck her mouth.

She feels her jaw ache, but she loves this feeling and wants to give him everything he asks for. She wants to be good for him.

“You are so fucking beautiful. Down on your knees for me, staining my cock with those red lips. Fuck, Y/N.” She moans on his length, loving his praise and attention. “You like this cock? Going to let me take what I want like a good girl.”

Y/N nods or tries to as she keeps him in her mouth, not ready to let him go. He moans as he pushes himself deeper, he has all the control, and Y/N loves it. She’s at his mercy. He’s taking what he wants. Y/N’s fish wraps around the base of his cock, wanting him, no needing him to come down her throat. Y/N shifts closer, leaning into him, wanting him deeper. His taste overwhelms her, and Y/N knows she’d never have enough of him.

His movements turn frantic, but it doesn’t stop Y/N. “Y/N, fuck, baby. I’m going to come.” Harry tries to pull away, but Y/N snakes a hand behind, clamping it down on his ass, and pulls him closer. “Fuck baby,” he grunts. Harry throws his head back and lets himself spill into her mouth. She feels every twitch and moan he lets out as he holds her head close to his body as he unwinds.

Y/N is addicted. Blow jobs were fun when your partner was great, and Harry was amazing. He seemed to know how much she could take and pushed her far enough that she got pleasure out of it as well. Y/N pulls away and stares at his cock, her mind full of thoughts of how his cock might feel between her legs, but she won’t be presumptuous.

“Alright, baby?” Harry asks, careful to tuck himself away. Y/N falls back, leaning on her knees, breaking her gaze from his cock to his eyes.

“Good,” she promises. He offers her a hand up, and she takes it. Y/N tries her best to hide her disappointment but also knows she needs to go home with Violet, suddenly remembering this wasn’t the most private place for either of them.

“Are you from here?” Harry asks as he fixes his rings. “Accent is a bit different.”

Y/N laughs, fixing the sleeve of her shirt. She knew what this was and kind of hoped for more but fuck, how couldn’t she want more? He was so good to her. Y/N wishes it had lasted longer, but she knows she’ll never forget it, so she lets him talk about something else to keep it from getting awkward. “I’m from London or living there now.” Y/N accepts the wipe he offers her to clean up her smeared lipstick.

“You know I’m doing a show in London,” he throws out there casually.

Y/N looks away from the mirror to hide her smirk. “Are you?”

“Mhmm…” he comes up behind her, keeping a distance but close enough for her heart to speed up. “Maybe we could meet up.”

Y/N turns around, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “Guess it answers that question.”

Harry stares at you, puzzled. “Which is?”

“How is my head?” She smirks, and Harry blushes red. Y/N is basking in this more timid Harry after she had his cock in her mouth.

“Well, how about you meet me later tonight, and I’ll show you how my head is. Then we’ll see if I can see you in London.”

“Wouldn’t that be a few months away?” Y/N asks, confused.

“I’m a patient man,” he assures her.

Harry kisses her cheek, placing a piece of paper with his number on it in her hand. “See you tonight, Y/N.” He leaves her in the room breathless and excited about what’s to come.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles love on tour #harry styles story #harry styles blurb #harry smut #harry styles writing #harry story #harry fic rec #harry one shot #harry story smut #love on tour #australia

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st-danger · 10 months

Note

Hi, what about Mean Rain with your choice, but towards the end, Rain can't keep up the act because he has alllllll these sweet soft feelings for Ghoul of your choice

At his feet, Mountain kneels, reverent and adoring.

And abused. Ignored. A plaything for Rain to touch and tease, spit on and slap, speak cruel words to- Mountain takes it all, grateful and begging for more. Rain holds a nice fistful of hair, unforgiving when he pulls. Testing.

"You can go harder," Mountain breathes, and yes, Rain could.

"When did I ask you to talk?" Rain muses, voice light. Condescending. Mountain's face falls; a bad sign, or would be if Rain doesn't see what hangs between his legs, red and heavy and giving a noticeable twitch at the query.

"You didn't," he says, chastened.

"Got it in one," Rain drawls. "Good for you. Next time you open your mouth, it better be for something useful."

The hand not yanking Mountain's hair grabs the tent in his pants and holds. Mountain naked as the day he was summoned, Rain still clothed- submissive, at a disadvantage. Ready to be taken advantage of. He wants to be fucked. Privately, Rain would rather love him instead. But it isn't about him.

Mountain is good at making himself useful. He has Rain pulled out of his pants moments later, wasting no time licking him into his mouth, taking him as deep as possible. Rain can't bring himself to fuck his mouth as roughly as he wants, but it hardly matters. As expected, Mountain does a fine job gagging himself on his cock without any help. The sound makes Rain cringe even as the feeling of hitting the back of his throat this way makes his eyes roll back.

"Drool on it," Rain orders. "If your chin isn't wet, don't bother."

Mountain is a good listener. He drools and licks and it's so filthy wet, messy. His lips are shining, his knees will be bruised from where they press onto hardwood floor. And Rain will feel a little guilty, and wonder if he can get away with kissing the marks when they fully bloom tomorrow.

Mountain pulls off, coughing after taking Rain too far. Eyes watery. Rain feels a twinge of discomfort. He looks up at hi. With wide, searching eyes.

Rain rolls his.

"What is it?" he sighs, doing his very best to seem annoyed at the interruption. Irritated that Mountain would vocalize anything other than a muffled moan around his dick.

"Insult me," he whispers, voice raspy. "Call me names."

"You want to hear you're a slut?"

"Meaner," Mountain says. "Make it bad."

For the first time tonight, Rain falters. The hesitation is too great to sweep under the rug. Too obvious. He chews his lip and lets his hand drop from Mountain's scalp. There's a very pregnant pause where they stare at one another, and Mountain seems to shrink in on himself.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't mean to demand-" he says, right as Rain says,

"I don't want to."

Rain drops to his knees, joins Mountain on the floor, and reaches for his cock. Takes it into his hand and tries to imbue all the affection he possibly can into the slow, gentle stroke. Mountain moans, but looks confused.

"I can't do it," Rain admits, apologetic. His ears feel hot. "If you want degradation, go to Dew. Or Swiss."

Mountain looks a little dumbfounded, lips parted while he sucks in ragged breaths as Rain begins jerking him off for real.

"Rain-"

Rain surges forward, kisses him, and rests a tender hand on the face he'd backhanded not twenty minutes prior. Doesn't need to wait long before Mountain's tongue slides against his. Deep and dirty, though in a different way.

"Let me be sweet, for once, please," Rain speaks against his lips. "I'm not good at this."

"You're very good," Mountain corrects, and then breaks into a groan as Rain pays attention to the head. "Really good."

"Let me be good to you," Rain says, and shuffles closer, close enough he can take them both in his talented hands, stroking soft. The feeling of Mountain against him makes him go a little cross-eyed.

Mountain's hips stutter forward.

"Don't do anything you don't wanna do," he whispers. "We don't- we can stop, if you want." The tremulous voicing betrays the sudden nervousness. That it's a step too far, he's hurt Rain, he's pushed him into something-

"Let me love you," Rain breathes, embarrassingly soft. He buries his face into Mountain's chest, and blurts out a glob of pre the moment Mountain wraps an arm around him.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #rain/mountain #rain x mountain

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m-n-m-s · 10 months

Note

Hobie X reader who doesn’t admit they’re punk. They diy everything, only listen to hardcore punk, and have the political beliefs but just don’t admit it.

i love this idea omg 🫶🏻

Stubborn.

Hobie Brown x StubbornPunk!Gn!Reader

Warnings: fluff!!, a lil cursing

"That's li'erally the basis of what being punk is, love."

You sighed heavily and turned to look at Hobie. He looked back at you with a smirk, sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed. You had just finished ranting to him about something that you saw the day before, walking around in front of him because you couldn't sit still, and pinning the problems on the (in your words) 'shitty problem solvers in the government'.

After explaining the very simple solutions that those people refused to acknowledge, you stopped to take a breath, allowing Hobie to drop that sentence into the break.

It wasn't that you had a problem with being a punk—if anything, you were far from that. You just didn't think that you qualified as a punk; a fact that Hobie made sure to challenge every chance he got.

You stood there in silence, looking at Hobie, who sat with a smug little expression on his face. "Seriously?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"I'm just sayin'," he said innocently. You weren't fooled.

"What's with you always trying to prove to me that I'm punk?" you asked exasperatedly, crossing your arms. "Aren't you the one who always says he 'hates labels'?"

There's silence for a moment. Then, you hear a light chuckle from behind you and the slight creak of your bed as Hobie stood. "I suppose I did say that," he said, slightly amused. You watched as he slowly walked past you, to your closet in the corner. "But even I admit that I fall somewhere under that ca'egory." You raise an eyebrow as he opens the closet door with a slight flourish. He peeks back behind the door at you, raising an eyebrow as he glanced into the small, but cluttered closet. You nodded, showing that you were fine if he looked in there.

You heard him faintly mutter something under his breath as he pushed some stuff around in there before a soft ha! met your ears. Hobie turned back to face you, holding up your favorite jacket, the one that had all the little patches you made sewn on. You could still see where you painted a few designs onto it, creeping behind the fabric. You raised your eyebrows. "You made this yourself," he said simply, gently laying it down on your bed. It was phrased as a question, but he spoke it like a fact, which it was.

You sighed, knowing what was coming. He slowly pulled out every article of clothing you had ever added your own touch to, laying them on top of each other. "An' this," he said, pulling out another pair of jeans.

You looked at the slowly growing pile on your bed and sighed again. "Please tell me you're putting that back yourself," you mumbled. Hobie paused slightly in his little quest.

"Only if you admit it," he said cheekily, pulling out more things from the closet. If you were being entirely honest with yourself, you had forgotten half of those even existed. You sighed once more, watching as he finished going through your closet. "These," he says, waving a hand at the pile on your bed, "were all somewhat made by you, even in a small way. Correct?"

You nodded hesitantly, confused as to where he was going with this. Hobie closed your closet door. "What was the last music genre you lis'ened to?" he asked. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he spoke again. "Punk. Punk rock, specifically."

"What does that have anything to do with—"

Hobie held up a finger as he interrupted your sentence. "You've got the politics"—his face wrinkled slightly at that word, making you crack a little smile—"an' the style," he says, vaguely gesturing at you and the pile of clothes on your bed. "All you're missin' is a big ol' neon sign that just says punk on it." You rolled your eyes, and just as you opened your mouth to speak, Hobie cut in again. "Just admit it," he teased, standing in front of you.

"Why are you so adamant in getting me to 'admit it'?" you huffed, crossing your arms. Hobie chuckled, tilting his head the slightest bit.

"Because you're so stubborn, swee'heart," he said, leaning slightly closer to you. You narrowed your eyes playfully, not really able to combat that statement since it was a fact. Hobie mirrored you, locking you into a stare-down of sorts. Due to the fact that your eyes were beginning to water (and Hobie didn't look like he was going to blink any time soon), you stepped away from him with an eye roll.

You walked back to the pile of clothes, carefully starting to put them back where they were. "Still not a punk," you muttered, folding a pair of jeans that were adorned with little patches. You saw Hobie raise an eyebrow at the irony, but he (for once) didn't say anything. Instead, when you turned around to grab another thing to put back, he was already there, holding out another jacket. You sighed, bringing a smirk to his face, and took it back to where it was supposed to be.

"Are you trying to bribe me into admitting it?" you asked, turning around to grab another hanger.

"Depends," Hobie teased, "is it workin'?" You shot him a deadpan look, turning back to the closet.

"No."

Just as you hung it up, a pair of arms made their way around your torso and pulled you backward onto your bed. You stumbled slightly before landing on your back, glaring at Hobie, who now stood above you. He gave you a little grin before promptly landing on you. You raised an eyebrow as he lifted his head slightly to look at you. "'M not gettin' up until you admit it, darlin'" he mumbled, smirking slightly.

You sighed, knowing damn well that he meant every word. "Okay, that's just cheating," you complained, glaring playfully at him. Hobie just shrugged, showing no signs of moving any time soon. You two lay there in silence until you closed your eyes and sighed once more. You saw a smile slowly creep onto Hobie's lips as he raised his head, just a little.

"Fine," you grumbled, exasperated. "Maybe I do qualify as punk."

You felt Hobie shift slightly, before lifting himself partially off of you. "There, was that so difficult?" he said lightly, grinning. You rolled your eyes as he helped you up. Just as you were about to go back to putting your clothes back into your closet, he tugged you back gently, a hand on your arm. You felt him gently kiss your head before moving his hand from your arm. "Stubborn," he mumbled affectionately, letting you go back. He sat on your bed, handing you clothes as you put them back.

"Since you admitted it, finally, I'm stickin' to my word and helping you," he said, running his fingers along the edges of a patch on my shorts.

You hide a smile. "That's a new one," you teased softly, turning your head to look at him. He mock-gasped, the edges of his lips turning into a smile.

"Rude!"

sorry this took so long guys 🥲

it ended up longer than i expected but wtv

if the formatting is being wacky w the photos just ignore it I'll try n fix it later 😾

i'll proofread later, but for now enjoy 🫶🏻

#atsv x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x gn reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown #adding more tags once i know what i'm doing #across the spiderverse

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aphroditesmoon · 1 year

Text

let the light in

jacaerys velaryon x reader

summary: he is everything you need and everything you can't have.

warnings: cheating, infidelity, angst, hurt/comfort, grief.

a/n: trying something new<3

°°°

The winter has always been harsh to you in Winterfell. Tightening the fur cloak around you, Your eyes meet with. your husband's momentarily. Cregan eyes you like a hunter aiming towards a deer. You look away almost immediately.

Your husband was not a cruel man, but he was stern, and he was as cold as the bitter freezing weather. But then again, you figured losing three wives before you would do that to a man.

Exhaling a violent loud breath, you move to exit the solemn feast of the funeral, halted in your steps when you feel his hand againts your shoulder. You snap your face towards him in confusion and take notice of the hesitation in his expression.

"Are you alright?" He speaks for the first time that day. His deep voice still sends shivers down your spine but you no longer tremble hearing it now, at least.

"My brother is dead." You deadpanned, immediately regretting it. His face had guilt written all over it, though for what you couldn't tell.

You cut him off before he could apologize, beating him to it. "I apologize husband, it seems I am still in a rather unstable mood."

He shook his head, dismissing your regret, hand still holding you by your shoulder. "I understand grief, never apologize to me for yours."

When his touch finally leaves you, and his eyes turn towards the floor, you take it as a sign he's letting you retire to your chambers, and so you do.

The sound of low thumping sound of drums and grave music fades away as you enter your room. Breathing a sigh of relief, you took off your coat, swinging it over the chair by the door. Never have the sight of your bed seemed more heavenly than as of now.

You feel your heart sink immediately, the warmth your room provided, disappearing in a swift second with the realization of reality. A sob broke through you, a broken and wretched sound.

you grasped on the material of your dress, right above your chest, as if you could squeeze your heart shut from the pain, but it's still there, loud in it's silence.

You felt him then, arms pulling you into his embrace as you let you body fall weak.

You knew he would come, just as he's always had the past few months he had been here, just like he had when you two were mere children in Kingslanding, where duty has never been pressed so hard on yourselves.

Your mouth was hung open, a scream that never quite escaped you, yet he had heard it.

He'll always will.

You pulled your head out of his chest, shaking hands pulling his face to look at you, the sight of his pity filling you like a knife buried deep in your chest, twisting.

He holds your face in the palms of his hands, like fresh painting, careful not to smudge.

But you do not want him careful. You wanted him to break you, to tear you up like the fragmented girl you already are. And you wanted him to piece you back together again, mold you into all the things you couldn't have been before. A better sister, a good wife, a girl without the rage of a thousand mothers buried inside waiting to burst.

So you kissed him, and Jacaerys, the ever soft prince, kisses you back. His hand moving to the bank of your head, eyes closed, gentle and kind, so kind you wanted to fall apart.

"I want you to fuck me." Low, you murmured againts his lips. You feel his chest heave as if he's been running.

Your foreheads lean againts eachother before his eyes opened, staring straight into your already opened ones. "You're grieving." Jace concluded.

"I am in pain." You corrected. "I'm in so much pain, like a candle whose fire only you could put out. Only you could melt this ice on my land like the spread of summer's return." Your desperation was not subtle, and he wished he could ever resist you, he wish he did the first moment he laid eyes on you.

"I will not take advantage of you." He wanted to demand, to be stern, but it came out in a whisper, his eyes pleading, begging you, to have mercy.

"Take advantage of me Jacaerys, take all of me until there's no more left for myself, All these parts of me are too much to bare."

He's shaking his head now, yet his arms holding you closer, tighter. "Your husband will have my head. He'll kill me."

His eyes was unblinking, unrelentingly tryinh to read you. "And it's not the first time I've thought of it, thought of this, if your heart was ever worth my head."

It was silent between the two of you for a minute, clinging to eachother like you'll drown of you let go. "Is it?" You ask, meekly.

He kisses you again. "You're worth a thousand heads, a thousand men."

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #hotd x reader #jace velaryon x reader #game of thrones #house of the dragon x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd #jacaerys targaryen #aemond targaryen #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader

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00127am · 3 months

Text

signed with love and forever yours, dejun

postage. xiao dejun & gn! reader, mentions of kissing cost to ship. 872 words

there was that time, laying in the open field behind the school, that you asked me why i always avert my gaze around you. i wasn't able to provide you with an answer. and how could i? when you were laying so close to me, nothing more than the thin separation of blades of grass between us. the same grass that i twisted in between my fingers as i fumbled for any semblance of a correct response. you weren't looking for a 'correct' answer, but an honest one, and perhaps--in the grand scheme of all things--that was worse.

it was hot that day. some week in late august, when we were skipping class. a class i shouldn't have skipped. considering the fact that i was flunking it. i had to get kun to tutor me, though i also remembering begging you too. i knew you weren't any good at the subject, but to me, at least, you could never be bad at anything.

you always loved the sound of cicadas. they were loud that day, a steady stream of their chirping that you said sounded like the melody of your favorite song. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't figure out exactly what you meant. but perhaps that was because they were hard to hear over the beating of my heart. a rhythmic pounding that overtook all other noises beyond the tone of your voice. the up and down waver of your inflection which cut clear through everything else in its way. you sounded like my favorite song that day. though i guess your voice is always my favorite.

the answer to your question, the one you asked about me averting your gaze--if you still care for the answer, i hope you do (pray)--is one that you probably already know. or one you have figured out through my obvious yearning. or told by hendery, the most likely out of the three options. i can't look at you for long, because if i do--if i spot the reflection of myself in your irises and the utter adoration in my own--it becomes obvious what i feel for you.

if you were to look into my eyes, to return my stare with one of your own (the same one that makes my mouth run dry and my chest burn) then you'd catch every bit of longing for you that i hold in my body. the same longing that is desperate for your words, attention, touch, kiss.

if i did answer your question that day, underneath the heat of a dying summer (one which remains immortal in the grounds of my memory) and in a moment caught in time, i'm afraid that i might have kissed you. that my silly, schoolboy crush would have superseded any inkling of common sense in nothing but the sheer hope that you would kiss me back. would you have? kissed me for an honest answer?

i'm being honest now. so when you get this, and if you still care--if you would have rewarded me back then in between the blades of grass and in the lull of the cicada's song that summer--will you repay me with a kiss?

about dejun's love letters.

xiaojun's handwriting is practiced to a degree of elegancy, with swooping ends of consonants and dramatically drawn vowels. everything about him is beautiful, so it only makes sense for this to be as well, with elongated strokes of cursive that seem to be stripped from the fine pages of old prose. despite all of its intricacy and detail, it's always legible. every phrase and sentiment able to be discerned underneath all the glitz and glamor of his penmanship (something he tends to regrets each and every time ten or hendery seems to get their hands on them).

he's a nostalgic person, constantly and consistently returning to old memories to revisit them again and again and again. he loves to write about the past, to remember every detail that made his head spin and his breath catch. and he loves to relive them, though it's nearly melancholy, and to write them down with such a pretty consideration to ensure he'll never forget them. it's for this reason that he writes on white lined paper, the kind you rip out of notebooks or are handed in secondary school. it's rather pointless in the grand scheme of things, since his words transcend lines and sentences break across margins. isn't it really all for the memory, though?

like chenle, xiaojun's letters are not slipped into an envelope, stamped with an address, and signed off with your name. he finds there to be something devastatingly romantic in writing love letters that will never reach their addressee, or at least, don't have the intent too. but he hopes that one day, perhaps in the silence of a conversation or when his hand is clutching yours a bit too tight, that he'll find the courage to enunciate all of his affections. and then deliver the letters, each and every one that he has written throughout all the years he has known you, in the hopes that your love will become something that he can hold with both nostalgia for your younger years and fortune for your future ones.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @yangasm @jenaisnte @sour-chaos thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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ladylovesloki · 2 years

Text

Drunk Tank: One Shot

Pairings: Loki X Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, smut

Summary: Loki goes out and has a little too much fun.

Your phone is ringing.

You open one eye and check the time.

2:00 AM

You look at your phone. Unknown number.

Nope.

You hit ignore and go to back to sleep.

Again you hear your ring tone.

Unknown number.

Send to voicemail.

You wait a moment. You see the notification letting you know that a voicemail had been left so you grab your phone and turn it on speaker.

“Good morning Ms. y/l/n, this is officer Morris from precinct 74, we have a person by the name of Harold Zidler here in our custody. He is currently in our drunk tank sobering up but he gave your name and number as an emergency contact. If you could give us a call back or come down to the station so we could release him to your custody we would greatly appreciate it.”

You start to laugh. Hysterically.

Harold Zidler was the alias you gave Loki to use in moments like this when he couldn’t give people his real name. It was a way he could cause some mischief in secret and if he ever got caught he would use that to not alert Shield. He doesn’t know where the name comes from and you prefer it that way, you can cause a little mischief of your own too….

A drunk tank though? That’s a new one.

You get up and get dressed, discreetly making your way out of your room in the tower. You creep through the empty halls, everyone either asleep or on a mission.

You don’t bother using a car, the precinct is only a train stop away and you didn’t want to alert anyone by using one of Shields cars.

You can’t help but laugh to yourself on the train, what has he gotten himself into?

You arrive at the precinct and you walk inside up to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up my boyfriend Harold Zidler, you guys called me to come get him”, you inform the officer.

“Oh thank God. Mike! Mike! That lady is here to pick up the drunk tank magician!”.

“Drunk tank magician?” You ask the officer.

“Yea your friend has been keeping everyone in the cell entertained for the last hour with his tricks. Driving us crazy.”

As you were about to ask more questions, another officer, you’re assuming Mike, brings out Loki.

“Darling! Darling! Over here!” He’s waving at you..waving..Loki is waving.

You slowly hold up your hand and wave back..

“I am so happy to see you!” He runs over and gives you a big hug with a big goofy smile on his face.

You pat him on the back, “hey you…you ok?” You ask him.

“Oh yes darling! I’ve had so much fun! I was showing Mop over there….”

“Mike man! My name is Mike…” the cop who had the pleasure of guarding Loki corrected.

“Oh yes, forgive me, Mike over there, I was showing him some of my magic..” he leans in close.. “Don’t worry darling, nothing too revealing I assure you…don’t want the cavalry coming to lock me away again….” You slap your hand over his mouth because he thinks he’s whispering but really he’s just talking at full volume.

“Hokayy!! Do I need to sign anything or can we just go?”

“Ma’am please just get him out of here, we just want to forget we ever picked him up in the first place. Just keep a closer eye on him and the drinking will ya?”

“Will do! Thanks again..and sorry about…whatever the hell he did here.” You drag him out of the precinct. He waved goodbye to his new friends as we walked out.

You get him on the train and sit him down, you look over at him and he’s just bobbing his head with the music playing in the background with a silly smile on his face.

“Loki.” He looks at you, “yes darling?” He happily responds.

“What happened? How did you get this drunk?” You ask him, you’re dying to know how he got in this condition. There’s no way he got this drunk drinking the alcohol from Earth…

“Thor and I were at one of those establishments with the long table and the drinks and the people serving the drinks at the long table and there were people sitting…or standing at tables ALLLL around the long table with the barmaid serving the drinks and there were OTHER bar people serving drinks with them…” he was rambling, it would be cute if you weren’t so curious about how he got this drunk.

“Ok, so you were at a bar with Thor, what were you drinking exactly?”

“Well Thor and I were ordering from the bar people and their spirits tasted like water so I conjured some Asgardian ale….and then some wine….and then some ale again…”

Ok so that answers the how drunk question, now on to the other question..

“Where’s Thor?”

“Oh, Heimdall called for him about some business in Asgard, not an emergency just something stupid I’m sure…but he left and was taken up up up and awayyyy by the Bifrost…so I stayed a little longer and drank a little more.”

“What did you do to get yourself arrested?”

“Oh nothing serious darling, just some harmless pranks, but I got to meet Mop out of it! And….burp….I got to see you my darling girl!”

He was so drunk. At least he is safe and we’ll be at the tower soon where you can get him watered, fed, showered and to bed.

You make it back to the tower and try and drag a stumbling Loki through the hallways without running in to anyone. Luckily you made it to your suite where you got Loki settled on the island while you got him some water and you made him a sandwich.

As you’re getting his food prepared he’s staring at you, his fist under his chin with that same silly smile he’s maintained all night.

“I love you my darling girl”

You look up and smile, “I love you too baby, you feeling ok?”

“Yes, I just…I just wanted you to know that..I don’t feel like I say it enough to you.”

You keep giving him that same kind smile, “you’re adorable when you’re drunk you know that?”

He eats his sandwich and drinks his water, you get him to the bathroom to shower..

“Care to join me darling? He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You giggle, “no my love, I’ll be outside the door if you need me for anything.”

“Oh I’ll need you for something..” he winks at you.

You roll your eyes and you close the door leaving him to it. After a little while he comes out of the bathroom, wet hair and a towel around his waist looking…..exhausted.

“Tired baby?” You ask him, and by the look of him you already know the answer.

He wordlessly nods his head and rubs his eyes, poor baby. You take his hand and get him to bed where he falls asleep almost instantly. You get yourself ready for bed, get some water that you have a feeling he’s going to be wanting as soon as he wakes up and leave it by his bed side.

You kiss his forehead, “goodnight drunky”. You shut off the light and go to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to the feeling of a wet tongue on your pussy.

“Oh…good morning to you Harold..”

Loki stops his ministrations and looks up at you from his position by your heated core, “my darling, forgive me for last night, I haven’t had Asgardian ale in quite some time..”

“There’s nothing to forgive baby, but if you insist on apologizing you’re off to a great start..”

“Well then, if you’ll allow me to continue…” he’s looking at you with so much heat in his eyes its almost like the furnace turned on in your room you were so hot.

“Please…” you whine.

He starts off slow, licking and sucking, building up a rhythm that had you screaming his name. He would bring you to the brink and then stop, over and over and over again until you were a sweating mess on the bed. Finally he has mercy on you and lets you cum, his name falling from your lips.

He flips you over so you are on your stomach and he starts to massage your back, he continues until your body feels like jello. Then he starts trailing kisses down the center of your back and then he licks you from your lower back up to your neck where he bites you. It’s gentle at first and then you feel his hard member pressing into you, when he breeches you he bites down a little harder and sucks. You cum again from the combination of pleasure and pain.

He starts to slowly circle his hips, giving you sweet kisses on your neck, brushing the hair out of your face so he can see it as you moan in pleasure.

He changes positions a bit and gets you up on your hands and knees driving himself into you at a punishing pace. A moment after that he takes his hand and pushes your upper body down so your head is laying on the mattress with your hips still in the air.

“Oh god..Loki…I can’t.” You’re begging him for something but you’re not sure what, you definitely don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop. You want to feel this everyday for the rest of your life.

“Yes you can…You’re going to…” he grunts, reaching around you to rub his fingers on your swollen clit.

“One more time my love…give me one more..and I’ll follow you to Valhalla..” now its his turn to beg.

You cum harder than you have ever cum in your life, you don’t even notice Loki chanting your name behind you. All you can feel is wave after wave of pleasure and then the warmth of Loki’s essence pouring into you, loving the feeling of it dripping down your leg.

Loki falls on top of you but manages to hold himself up slightly so he doesn’t crush you.

The room, once filled with the sound of moans, screams and sex, was silent except for the heavy breathing you are both doing.

“Thank you for last night my love, I’m sorry again.” He says almost bashfully.

“It’s ok, you’re kinda cute when you’re drunk.” You wink at him.

“Kinda?” He jokes with you and tickles your sides. The room now being filled with a different kind of screaming.

The end.

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #loki smut #loki x you #imagine loki #loki fluff #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki of asgard #marvel loki #loki odinson #Drunk loki #Smut

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so-many-fandoms-here · 1 year

Text

Sfw-Alphabet

(English isn‘t my first language so feel free to correct any mistake you notice.)

• Characters: Suguru Niragi, fem!reader

• Genre: fluff, angst

• Warnings: mentions of death and murder, mentions of smut

༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻

Affection: (how affectionate are they? How do they show their affection)

Niragi and affectionate are two things that usually don‘t go hand in hand. But if he really falls in love with you he has his ways to show his affection.

He would like to kill everyone that just lays an eye on you and if someone really dares to touch you he surely will.

„What are you looking at fucker?“ „You really wanna die, huh?“ „If you even think of her again you will regret it.“

Kinda obsessive with you.

Beauty: (what they find especially attractive about you)

In his eyes you’re the hottest, most gorgeous person alive. Your whole appearance, they way you act and talk just did something with him.

Comfort: (how they comfort you? How you comfort them)

Comforting someone isn’t quite his strength.

He would say things like „Imma kill anyone that comes near you.“ or „If you want me to I will blow their brains out just give me a sign.“

Is a bit overwhelmed when you just ask for a hug but he will do as you please.

Comforting Niragi is a whole other thing. If you know him for a while already and he warmed up a little bit he will tell you when something is wrong. But honestly you can’t do much more than just be there. But often your presence alone helps (a bit at least)

Dreams: (how they imagine their future with you)

He doesn’t have a particular dream. As long it’s with you he doesn’t really care.

Ending: (how would they break up with you)

„We’re done.“

Yeah that’s it.

Fight: (how would an argument with them look like)

He would scream and yell and cuss and eventually storm off (with slamming the doors of course) and try to take his anger out on something or someone.

Gentle: (how gentle are they? Physically and emotionally)

He’s not gentle at all. Often he feels bad when he realizes he hurt you in any way (not that he would ever admit it). You notice that he regrets his behavior because of his widen eyes and slightly open mouth. He will apologize in his own way. (Petting your back, being weirdly nice when you’re alone, etc)

It’s different if it happened during intercourse but I talk about that in nsfw alphabet 👀

Hugs: (do they like hugs? How do their hugs feel like)

It doesn’t happen often that he hugs you but when he does you can be sure that he will hold you tight and won’t let you go any time soon.

I Love You: (how fast did they say the L-word)

It slipped out during intercourse and he said it in the most dirty way possible.

„You’re such a slut for me, I love it. Fuck I love you.“

You both paused your actions for a moment but then he continued like nothing happened.

He doesn’t bring it up because he doesn’t want to admit that he has a weak spot for you. (But it wasn’t the last time this sentence left his lips.)

Jealousy: (how jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

When Niragi seriously gets jealous everyone around him is in huge danger. This boy will straight up kill everyone he remembers talking to you or even just looking at you.

But mostly he knows it’s a little game of yours because you love the fact that he actually cares for you and wants you for himself and himself alone.

And of course you love how he remembers you that you‘re his <3

Kisses: (where they like to kiss you? Where they like to be kissed)

He loves to kiss you everywhere. He want’s to make sure his lips were everywhere and he marked every single spot as his.

Even tho Niragi won’t admit it he loves it when you do the same.

Prepare for a lot of make-out sessions.

Little Ones: (how are they around children? Do they want own children)

Niragi and kids don’t work out. He doesn’t like kids and kids don’t like him.

But he would lie if he’d say that he doesn’t like the thought of you being pregnant with his kids.

Marriage: (do they want to marry)

Niragi thinks marriage on itself is stupid but he swore he will marry you anyways so everybody knows you’re his. (And he‘s yours)

Nicknames: (how they call you)

Mostly Baby or Babe.

Open: (how fast they open up)

It takes a while but eventually he will tell you about his past. Not all at once tho, but slowly one thing after another.

Patience: (how easily angered are they)

It depends on topic, who else is involved, is he having a bad day?

Quizzes: (how much do they remember about you)

He acts like he doesn’t care but in reality he remembers quite mich about you.

Romantic: (how romantic are they)

Niragi and romance are like day and night. Two things you never experience together.

Security: (how protective are they? How do you protect them)

Again even tho he acts like he doesn’t care he will kill everyone and anyone to keep you safe.

If you try to protect him he will try to get you out of the situation. When you’re alone he will yell at you. It might seem that he is angry but he was just sick worried.

„Don’t do that ever again! Got it?!“

Try: (how much effort do they put in dates, gifts, etc)

Not much because he has absolutely no feeling for this stuff. It mostly turns out to be an absolutely chaos. You think it’s cute anyways tho.

Ugly: (what are some bad habits of them)

It’s Niragi so there’s quite a lot that can count as bad habits.

Killing people, having no feeling for morals, showing little to no respect to others, etc.

Vanity: (how concerned are they with their looks)

He‘s not obsessed with his appearance but he liked to make sure that he somehow looks good.

Whole: (do they feel incomplete without you)

When Niragi is madly in love with you (which we assume here) he would absolutely feel incomplete without you.

Xtra: (random headcanon)

Sometimes he gets a wave of intense emotions and feelings towards you. He could fall to his knees and worship you like a goddess. He leaves the situation before it can happen tho because again, he will never admit his weakness for you.

Yuck: (what are some things they wouldn’t like)

Seriously flirting with someone else. Not the little game you play where you act like you flirty with someone, even tho it’s more than obvious that you’re not attracted in the slightest to them. But really showing interest in someone else. It would break his heart

Never make hints in front of others that he can get soft around you. That’s for you and you only.

Zzz… (some of their sleeping habits)

Moves a lot and snores.

When you lay next to him he will always try to touch you. At least feel your hand at his fingers.

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bellafragolina · 1 year

Note

Wanderer!Reader

Hisui is a vast place, and it can’t only be occupied by the two clans and the village, yes? There aren’t many travellers, the only ones of notice being the Gingko Guild.

You, however, just like to wander. You travel by yourself, the only companions being Pokémon you’ve befriended along the way. People are exhausting, so you prefer it that way.

You don’t own any pokéballs because the knowledge of them hasn’t been passed around yet.

So one day you’re just hiking up the mountains when you come across a tall, yet slouching, figure ahead of you shouting. Upon closer look, you see that it’s a male wearing very torn and ragged clothes that look foreign to you, specifically the cap and coat.

- yui.anon

I’m rereading this and I’m starting to think you were just chatting about it instead of requesting a drabble. If that’s so then sorry! Have a drabble as an apology!!

🍓🍓🍓

The man notices you the moment you notice him. The cap he wears shades his eyes, but their still bright, if tired. Sharp silver pierces your skin, so you stop, a hand atop the Arcanine at your side. Your hiking companion growls at the new person, not soothed by your gentle pets.

“Good morning!”

The greeting bellows through the quiet mountains. You jerk back, ready to flee or fight, whatever the situation calls for. Arcanine barks again, smoke billowing from his mouth at the threat the man poses.

To his credit, the man backs away too, eyes wide beneath that brim. His hands are up, showing you his scarred palms as a sign of surrender, of having no arms or weapons. You relax a little, but not Arcanine. It steps forward to protect you, still spewing smoke crackling with embers.

“My apologies!” The man says, voice quieter now. He glances away, then pulls his brim down to hide his eyes. You relax further. “I didn’t mean to frighten you! I don’t often meet travelers out here.”

You cock your head. The man straightens, and does a strange pose. Both arms fire out, one pointing at you while the other points down.

“None the matter!” He says, his eyes bright again. “I will conduct you to your destination, dear traveler!”

“I’m a wanderer.” You correct gently, stroking Arcanine again. The lack of attack has it slowly easing off of its haunches. “So I don’t have a destination.” You rake your gaze down his attire, unashamed of your stare. The man squirms in place, but you’re able to see his tattered coat and clan uniform, as well as. . . “What’s that on your belt?”

The man pauses, glancing at his belt. There’s a wooden object sitting there, one he pulls off with ease. You creep a bit closer as he holds it out. The wood is two different shades, and there’s a clasp on it in the center seam.

“A Poké Ball.” The man tells you.

“A Poké Ball.” You repeat. You creep closer still. Arcanine makes gruff noises, voicing its obvious displeasure, but follows. “And what is it for?”

“To catch Pokémon.” The man says. Your silence has him squirming again. “Er, you throw one at a Pokémon, and it. . . catches them. And then you have it for your team. To battle.”

“Why would you need one?” You ask. “Do your Pokémon not follow you like mine?”

The man opens his mouth, then closes it again. His eyes are on your shoulder. Based on the sharp tingling you can feel, your Magnemite is peeking out of your bag at the new person.

“Er, well. . .” The man seems unsure of what to say. You smile at him. “I suppose they do. . .”

“Strange what the future holds.” You muse to yourself, turning to head down the cliff face. Arcanine and Magnemite are at your heels, or shoulders, in Magnemite’s case. “Goodbye.”

“Wait!” The shout makes you pause. To your surprise, the man follows you. Arcanine’s growling has no effect on him, for soon he’s at your side. “I will accompany you down the mountain. Safety checks are needed to ensure your safe passage!”

You cock a brow. “I will be fine. I’m a wanderer.”

“I will accompany you!” The man says, finality in his voice. You watch him start in the direction you were headed in a moment again. “Mind the rails. All aboard!”

Of course, you think to yourself, he lives here all alone. You’ve discovered the mountain madman.

Well, at least the trip will be interesting.

🍓🍓🍓

We love a slow build up. Ingo, alone in the mountains, immediately crushing on the wanderer he finds. The wanderer, thinking he’s insane and humoring him to not get bitten.

True love <3

~Renee

#yui anon #warden ingo x reader #ingo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #submas x reader

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nexusnyx · 2 years

Text

Hearts Are Heavy

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 3 — The night I just couldn’t take it. "I usually keep quiet, but… not today.” TASM!Peter Parker x F!Reader [2.3k]

⚠️ Mentions violence and death, injuries, blood. | 🏷️ Established relationship, hurt/comfort, body worship, fluff.

SUMMARY: It had been a year since Peter returned from the portal with newfound happiness and a lighter step. It's also been a year of him throwing himself into near-death situations every month, and you're growing tired of it. Of seeing him hurt, of worrying if this will be the morning you see him last. Tonight, when he returns dripping red on your carpet, you break.

Blood only came out of fabrics when you washed it with the correct products and under a certain time-period from when the stain was made.

It's not knowledge you'd like to have stored in the front of your brain, but your life was regular in every aspect—except your boyfriend.

When he gets home — at 12:54 am, you note, because you hear the sound of keys jiggling and almost die of a heart attack on the couch and the digital clock sitting beside the TV is the only light in the room at the moment — you do the nightly routine:

hold your heart close; pray to the skies—please, please, be okay.

"Peter?"

"Yeah. It's me."

His voice is small, and that tone has a personal grip on your insides.

Before he can finish crossing the living room, you're already up and walking to the bathroom for the first-aid kit.

Peter waits for you with his hand gripping his ribs, a familiar sight to you by now.

"What happened this time?" You ask, taking the distilled water, gauze, and other utensils out of the kit.

Peter's mask is on the floor, and a thought rushes through your mind: at least he's not dripping blood on your floor. Then, it breaks your heart.

"Why do I feel like Artemis is judging me?" he asks instead of answering.

When you look up at him, Peter's eyes are somewhere over your shoulder, so you follow his gaze only to find your cat, Artemis, lying on top of the clock on your TV stand and staring straight at Peter.

Right through his soul.

You scoff and look back at him. "Wonder why," you let out bitterly. "Take this off."

Peter helps you remove his suit.

The first few times this happened, your fingers trembled all night long, almost getting in the way of you being of any actual help to him. They shook as they cleaned his wounds and your vision watered, too, obliging you to wipe your face multiple times so you could have a better view.

"Artemis isn't the only one mad tonight, is she?" Peter asks in that little voice of his. The one who's trying to be cute when he knows he's in trouble.

Usually, that voice comes whenever he has to ditch a date because of supernatural emergencies or things of the sort. It comes out when he's trying to get away with using his powers in "inconspicuous" manners, as he likes to call it—as if anything about Peter is shy, and quiet.

"Babe," he calls.

You stop cleaning the wound on his ribs to pin him with a look.

"I'm gonna need you to be quiet so I do this without getting so angry I'll open up a hole in you myself," your voice comes out in an angry whisper.

Peter's startled by it. "What? Why?!" He sounds so genuine in his confusion that you want to poke at the open wound where a bullet likely grazed him tonight. "What did I do?"

"Peter." Not now. Let me do this. "I love you with all of me, but please, shush."

That quiets his mouth for the time being.

As you clean him, you think about the agreement you made with yourself when he revealed his life's biggest secret to you:

i'll be by your side. i adore you for you who are, peter. whether that's spider-man, or peter parker. i love you.

The stakes were high, and you signed the dotted line.

Now, two years and a lot of blood spilled later, you wanted to go back in time.

You knew it was possible—all the tales of the other universe Peter visited made the foundation for the very thing you studied, but it wasn't enough.

If you could meet the you of two years ago, you'd slap her across the face as hard as possible and demand her to make one addition to that promise you made him: I'll be by your side, for as long as you'll have me, and as long as you do think of yourself, too.

Peter thought of others first, second, and third.

Then it came him, maybe.

That killed you.

"All done."

Peter looks down at your work, and breathes out a sigh of relief.

"I'm gonna cook you some food. You didn't eat before leaving, did you?" you ask, putting everything away.

Sensing that asking you questions is still not in his field, Peter just shakes his head at your question.

"Ok. Why don't you go shower while I heat up my leftovers?"

"Alright," Peter nods. He gets up from the chair, but stops you from turning around with a hand on your wrist.

Peter has total control over your body.

The hand holding you is gentle, but it keeps you in place.

He slowly lifts the other hand until it cups your jawline, and then slowly, Peter puts his lips on yours for the first time today. It's a chaste, soft kiss, but it threatens to break the damns you've so carefully curated for moments like this.

Even then, you accept it.

It would go against your nature to refuse his touch.

Peter pulls back slowly, and with his face still close to yours, whispers, "Thank you."

You nod, unable to find your voice, and Peter looks like he wants to say more, but thinks better of it.

The thing is—you knew what you were getting yourself into.

When you first stumbled on him running through your University's floor late at night, the spider-suit on with no mask, blood dripping from his temple and sheer determination set in his eyes—you knew that the DNA which made Peter was the rare kind.

Peter did what he did because he cared, first and foremost, but you still feel sick thinking about the results.

The bruises, cuts, holes, the blood—

Not anymore.

You're shaking just the slightest when he sits down on your tiny table, and he eats in silence while you go put his dirty suit in a soaking bowl to get the blood out easier.

All you need is for him to understand.

You'll make him understand.

Shaking off all your worries and insecurities, you tell yourself that you will make Peter Parker listen to you.

No matter how stubborn, how unyielding he is in this or any other Universe—you'd be a damn coward to not try.

Peter finishes eating while you're mindlessly rubbing coconut soap on his suit's bloody stains, and you feel his presence on your back before you hear his steps.

His arms wrap around your waist slowly.

"Can we go to bed?" he kisses your nape.

Your body shudders. Please listen to me, my love. "Yeah." You dry your hands on your pants, and let yourself be guided by Peter to your bedroom.

He's good at doing more than one thing simultaneously, like walking and half-carrying you in his arms until you're both in bed, nestled underneath the blankets.

It's almost 2am, but sleep will evade your mind until the sun rises if you keep your mouth shut, so when you two are laying down comfortably, you turn to the side and look at him.

"Peter."

"Yeah?" he turns on his side, too. Your floor-to-ceiling old window lets in the moonlight in ways that make him look ethereal, even when he has scratches on his cheek.

"I usually keep quiet, but..." it's hurting me. It's physically and mentally killing me, love. You shake your head, "not today."

"Keep quiet about what?" he asks, draping one arm around your body.

"You've been overworking yourself," you tell him.

Peter frowns. "I'm not tired, baby."

"That's not—" you shake your head again, breathing in deeply to keep your calm. "It's not about being tired."

"Y/n," Peter uses your name softly, inching his face closer. "I heal faster. Tomorrow, I'll basically be brand new. It's fi—"

"Don't say it!" It's not fine. Peter's thrown back by you raising your voice, and he must sense the urgency in your tone. "Peter, I wouldn't care if you had the best regenerative superpowers on the whole planet and everything healed as soon as it happened. That's not what this is about. It's about the fact that you're hurting yourself. Every day. Every week. And—" it kills me. You're shaking, despite your best efforts, and fuck. "And I don't think you care."

“I do,” he says, tone pleading.

“Really?” Evidence pointed otherwise.

“Yeah. I do, baby,” he says.

You shake your head. It’s not enough. “See—I don’t think you do. Not enough.” You lift your upper body on your forearm, resting it on Peter’s pillow by his head. With your other hand, you cradle his face. “Peter. I need you to be more careful with yourself,” you whisper, feeling the cracks around the edges. I can’t watch you be hurt like this—all the damn time. “This body here,” your hand cupping his face slides down through his neck, collarbones, until it reaches the middle of his chest and covers his heart. Everything. “It’s important. This body guards your soul, Peter. D’you get that?” Your face and his contain their own gravity when you two are this close, and soon enough, you’re breathing his air, feeling wetness sliding down your cheek. “The city needs you, and I get that. I respect it. I remember you saying this world only has a handful of you supers and helping people would always be a part of you. But I need you too, Peter. I need you more than them, if I’m being honest. And selfish. But I’ll be selfish—I don’t care. I love one of the most selfless people alive right now, and I just need you to take good care of the body that holds this heart here,” you squeeze your hand on top of his chest.

Peter’s quiet sob almost makes you stop talking. But you can’t.

“This heart’s everything to me.”

Even bruised, Peter is fast.

The second your hand covered the area of his heart, his came to rest on top of yours, and that’s the same hand Peter uses to pull you in for a bruising kiss.

He kisses you hot, feverish, and passionate.

Even through tears, your body answers to him quicker than the speed of light.

Kissing while crying is not gracious.

Peter pulls back for air more and his lips don’t stop trembling, even when they keep leaving trails of kisses on your mouth, cheeks, neck.

You have to hold his face with both of your hands to calm him down enough for you to pour the desire attached to every single word you said.

He stills under the kiss, then melts into it.

Even though he has an Illiad of words inside his mind, Peter opens up his lips and licks his way into your mouth, knowing that’s a one-way ticket to very little words when the two of you are laying down in this bed.

You love how he holds you when it’s just the two of you.

Peter’s not scared to puppet you to his will—he knows it drives you insane when he uses his strength on you without fear that he’ll break you; with enough trust that he knows what is too much or not. He pulls you by the waist to be on top of him, and you go willingly, straddling his lap.

With one leg on each side of his waist, Peter lifts you up by the neck to get a better look at you.

“Wait—” he asks, breathless. You wait, making yourself comfortable. Each forearm cages a side of his head, and you love to be this close to him. To smell the soap on his skin, and feel his chest going up and down underneath yours. “I promise I’ll take better care of myself,” Peter waits for your eyes to be on his before saying it.

For a second, you’re stunned.

He actually promised.

Peter never breaks his promise.

A smile blossoms on your face, and Peter smiles as a reflex of it. “You promised,” you whisper, awed.

Peter nods. He brings a hand to your face, fingertips brushing over your features. “Yeah. I get it, now.” He strokes your cheeks, and you have to force your eyes to stay open. “I got so used to the prices of living life like this that I—some of it just lost meaning after a while. But I get it. If it was you being this reckless with yourself—” Peter’s words are cut short, hips lips hanging open wide. He laughs humorlessly. “I’d be livid.”

“It’s hard being mad when all you feel is this—worry that’s too big for you,” you mutter.

Peter swallows visibly. He quits stroking your face and brushing your hair, then cups your face in his hand. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For slapping some sense in my head every now and then.”

The words you said to him when you two first met years ago as assistants at the lab are out of your lips as an instinct, “Lookin’ after you is kinda my job.”

Peter laughs at them, smiling big at the nostalgia attached to them. The echos across your years of relationship—the words were muttered by him behind his mask, too, when you had no idea it was Peter, it was said by him angrily when you two first had a fight.

“I like our job,” he says.

Then, he dives for another kiss.

As long as Peter keeps his promises, things would be fine.

Out of everything and all the infinite possibilities in this world (or others), all you needed was him, anyway.

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goddessofroyalty · 1 year

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I’ve come to accept that any fandom I enter, even briefly, I am required to write at least one male birth (or close to birth) scene. So here we are.

Fandom: House of the Dragons

Pairing: Aemond/Lucerys

Warnings: uncle/nephew incest (that is resulting in a baby), omegaverse, mpreg, graphic post-childbirth

-----------

As soon as it is announced the baby is born Alicent is heading into the birthing chambers. Aemond immediately following his mother.

Rhaeyra stands as soon as they enter. Moving to shield her son from view. Lucerys still on the birthing bed and maids and midwives move around in a flurry.

“Where is the child?” Alicent asks as Aemond steps around his sister to see his mate.

Luke looks as if he has been through a battle. Sweaty and unfocused, breathes coming in pants as he worries his bloodied bottom lip with his teeth. He doesn’t even acknowledge Aemond’s presence, whimpering and tensing with what strength he still has.

He’s not done, Aemond realizes.

“Is there a second child?” Aemond asks the woman still attending Luke as the others flitter around getting the requested child to their Queen.

“No my prince, tis’ just the afterbirth. Nearly over now.”

“Thank- ngh- Fuck!” Luke’s entire body tenses then just as suddenly goes lax against the sheets as the midwives remove a bloody mass from between his legs. A moment later Luke’s eyes flutter open to meet Aemond’s. The omega’s exhaustion clear in them. “I think I would prefer to ride Arrax into battle than this.”

“Of course you would.”

“Aemond,” Alicent calls, the baby finally in her arms.

He spares Luke a glance before going over to his mother and child.

The baby looks similar to how Helena’s had. Tiny and pink and wrinkly. Unlike Helena’s, the baby has no hair to speak of yet and its eyes an undeterminably pale. Aemond’s mother’s eyes are sharp as they run over it, looking for signs of a bastard.

“It is mine.” Aemond had made sure of it. The only person other than himself who stepped foot into the room while Luke was in heat Rhaenyra, and omega women cannot sire.

The look his mother shoots him is equal parts judgement and pity. But she hands the bundled baby over when he holds out his hand in silent request.

“Him,” one of the older midwives corrects. “You have a son my prince.”

“We need to take him to the King,” Alicent decrees.

“Oh for fucks sake Alicent,” Rhaenyra snaps. “Not this again.”

“Lucerys can stay and rest,” Aemond’s mother offers. “But Viserys should meet his newest grandchild.”

“No, I‘ll come as well,” Luke says, pushing himself up to be seated on the bed. Wincing as he does.

He swings his legs off the side of the bed, the color on his face draining as he does. His hands bracing against the sheets to even keep himself upright.

“Luke,” Rhaenyra says, moving to her son’s side. But Luke just shakes his head.

“Give me a second.”

Aemond hands his child off to Rhaenyra and goes to where Luke sits on the edge of the bed, offering his hands to his mate.

Luke looks up at him through dark lashes.

“Are you getting up?” Aemond won’t stand there forever.

“I am,” Luke says, reaching up to grab Aemond’s forearms in his hands. His grip tight as he pulls himself to his feet.

“Get his robes,” Aemond orders one of the maids. The sooner they can get his over with the better. “Don’t just stand there. Go get them and help him get dressed.”

“Don’t terrorize them,” Luke chastises.

“I am their Prince.” They are here to serve him and his family, not stand around and gawk at them.

“And I am your Lord,” Luke reminds.

-----------

The first words out of Viserys mouth upon seeing the kid is “I did not think I would live long enough to see a great-grandchild born.”

#Lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen #HOTD #House of the Dragon #Omegaverse #mpreg #GOT omegaverse #GOT mpreg #Look childbirth (and the history of it) is kind of my hyperfixation #so it does make sense that I'm Like This with every fandom I touch #It's practically my brand by this point #childbirth #Blood for Blood

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levans44 · 1 year

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Damage Control - Chapter 11

“Package for you, babe.”

Robin’s voice interrupts her little mid-day nap, one that she always takes advantage of during these rare quiet moments around the office.

“Huh?”

She wipes a small bit of drool from the corner of her mouth as her gaze follows Robin’s finger, which was pointing to the receptionist desk at the front. A manilla folder rests on the marble counter.

"Yeah, been sitting there all afternoon."

She saunters over, waving at Amy sat behind the desk before retrieving the file. On her way back, she frowns, turning the folder over in her hand. Who could have sent her this?

“What is that?” Robin peers over curiously. Then, a devilish grin.

“Another gift from lover boy?”

“No, I don’t think it’s from Harry…”

Eyebrows furrowed, she slowly undos the white string, opening the folder to see a small sticky note stuck to the top of a thick pile of paper.

I added in some details myself, just in case. Hope this helps.

- Best, Steve

After their little lunch date the other day, she had completely forgotten about his SHIELD files. Thankfully, he hadn’t.

The corners of her mouth raise involuntarily as she reads over his note, handwriting surprisingly neat. Straight lines and serious, yet rounded out at the edges, just like him.

“So… who’s it from?”

She slams the file closed a little too quickly, but thankfully her friend doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nothing, just uh… some files Anne needs me to type up.”

“Ugh, boring.” Robin rolls her eyes before reaching for the coat and bag hung from her chair.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. You wanna go grab a drink with me and John?”

“No, I uh…. I’m good, thanks. Should get some of these done before signing off.” She lifts up the file and Robin nods.

“All right, have fun.”

She smiles, waving as Robin makes her way to the elevator.

Though she’s itching to read the file right then and there, she manages to wait until she’s sure that Robin has left before packing up her stuff, gently sliding the folder into her bag before heading out of her office.

“Night, Amy.” She waves on her way to the elevator, before the receptionist’s words stop her dead in her tracks.

“He dropped that off himself, ya know.”

“... what?” She turns, frozen on the spot.

“Yup! Just around noon.” Amy has a bright smile on her face as she nods eagerly.

"Don’t worry though! Most everyone was out for lunch so no one was around to see him.” She quickly adds at the look of remote horror on her face.

She nods slowly, letting out a slow breath.

“… You mean… Ste—” she quickly corrects herself. “—the Captain was here to…”

“Yep.” Amy nods, still obliviously happy.

“Listen, Amy I… I would really appreciate it if you could just keep this a secret between us for a while.”

Amy nods knowingly, miming zipping her mouth and throwing away an invisible key.

“No need to ask.”

She smiles, giving the receptionist a nod. ”Thanks, Ames.”

“‘Course! Have a good weekend.”

“Yeah, you… you too.”

The whole walk back to her apartment, she’s sort of in a daze. Her pace is three times faster than normal, and she holds her bag close to her chest like it’s the most treasured thing in the world. Once she gets home, she takes a lightening shower before heading straight for the fridge, throwing a few containers of leftovers in the microwave. She burns half her hand off trying to dump her hasty dinner onto a plate, before heading straight for her bedroom.

She plops down the plate at her desk, brushing it off to the side as she fishes inside her bag for the file.

She carefully reopens the folder, reading over Steve's note for the third time before carefully sliding the sticky note off the top file. Placing it on the side, next to her dinner, she returns her attention to the stack of paper in front of her.

She holds it up to her desk lamp with a strange reverence, like it should be an artifact displayed at the Smithsonian. Hell, this was probably even better than an artifact.

A never-before-seen copy of Captain America’s personal files, with added hand-written details from the super soldier himself. She tries not to think about how journalists and enemies alike would kill to get their hands on it as her eyes read over the first file—a SHIELD agent review of Steve Rogers.

Some of the information wasn’t new, while others she had learned during the brief time she had gotten to know Steve.

She runs the pad of her index finger across the records on his education.

Auburndale Art School, Brooklyn, NY.

1937-38

Only a year of instruction.

She clears her throat, blinking rapidly as she moves on, turning the page.

The first detail she spots on the next page, to her surprise, makes her laugh out loud.

A faded SHIELD review of pre-serum Steve Rogers contained details about his old weight and height that present-day Steve was quick to edit out. Two black scribbles over the numbers, filled out in dark pencil, with the disgruntled and not-at-all-official label ‘REDACTED’ written next to them. She shakes her head, smiling, always a little surprised at the reminder that Steve Rogers wasn’t always the buff, 6-foot-5 giant she knows him to be now.

She turns the page once again to discover that the rest of his files, unfortunately, aren’t as lighthearted.

The next few sections, though heavily redacted (officially, this time), provided details on Sergeant Buchanan Barnes, exclusively referred to as the ‘Winter Soldier.’ Steve had crossed out any and all parts that used this alias, replacing them with the name BUCKY, scribbled in all caps. Those particular markings looked dated, much older than the notes he had made on the previous page. She figured he had reviewed these files immediately upon SHIELD’s discovery of the Winter Soldier, and made those notes back then. She shook her head, unable to fathom the conflict he must have felt—to resent oneself for the death of their best friend, only to find out they were alive and under HYDRA’s control the entire time.

Between the sections crossed out in pitch black ink, she carefully reads over the details of Steve’s past relationship with Barnes, and is briefly reminded of the polarizing versions of the man during the past two encounters she’s had with him. The small but warm smile he had given her the night of that party, then the cold judgement in his eyes as she walked into the cafe during her meeting with Sam. She knows that, despite SHIELD’s efforts to integrate Agent Barnes into the organization, despite years of training and therapy, many of her coworkers still viewed him as no more than a ticking time bomb. She feels a tinge of guilt at all the times she had concurred with their concerns.

The report flows chronologically to Steve’s ‘fugitive-era,’ when the entire organization had been shook to its very core upon his disappearance, her department included. When everything had changed overnight. She still remembers the speculations running rampant throughout the office after Fury’s alleged assassination, each day bringing a new update about the Captain’s whereabouts.

A dangerous and violent individual, an enemy against SHIELD, Alexandre Pierce had said. All his lies thoroughly shattered in that Helicarrier launch room, when she had sat behind a control panel in the back as a low-level agent for Damage Control alongside Anne. The suffocating fear as Rumlow holds a gun up to an agent’s head. Then, Steve’s voice booming through the overhead speakers, and the air around her transforms. A roomful of SHIELD agents heeding to the mans’ every word, no uncertainty to be found.

Wouldn’t be the first time I broke the rules.

Sure, that was one way to put it all right.

As she continues reading, she leaves small sticky tabs on the side of the file on the details she feels are of particular importance. Soon enough, the short stack of files are littered with a colorful array of tabs, running up and down in all shades of the rainbow.

Not all pages are as report-worthy, of course, though that didn’t make them any less interesting. Those were the pages full of Steve’s doodles, in all pencil, no color. The subjects of his sketches, she’s come to learn, weren’t particularly unique—random patterns on skyscrapers, a steam train, or even just clouds moving across the sky. Yet his portrayal of the most intimate of details were absolutely breathtaking. She honestly believes he could’ve made a good living as an artist, and wonders just what would have been if he had finished his time at art school.

Then, she comes across a series of briefings, under a heading that sends tight knots in her stomach: The Snap.

She’s instantly reminded of the chaos. How her division had shut down completely during the blip—ironically enough, there had simply been too much damage to be controlled.

Depressed, jumping around from job to job with no real anchor or motivation, the snap was undoubtedly the worst period of her life. She didn’t find enough strength in her to help herself, let alone other people. The constant fear and grief around her was suffocating, and she shuddered just at the thought of the years she’d stayed holed up from the dark, empty world outside of her home.

Everyone had lost their families, their friends, their heroes—the Avengers had virtually disbanded since half of its members had disappeared. Those that survived went underground. For good reason, too—most people who had survived the Snap blamed the Avengers for all of their suffering, herself included.

But not Steve.

Turns out, Steve had spent most his time volunteering, leading grief counseling sessions.

She didn’t know that.

She purses her lip, narrowed eyes flitting across the page as she reads over a small description of Steve’s activity during the Blip.

The Brooklyn Support Group was a support group for survivors of the Snap in New York City. Steve Rogers, as leading counselor for the group, frequently held sessions for family members and relatives of the Vanished. He worked with various local organizations to provide food, shelter, and other essentials to those in need.

Her eyes lift up from the page, strange feeling in her stomach as she lets out a small breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

All this time she thought he had gone into hiding like the rest of the Avengers. Like the rest of the world. Like she had.

Yet he surprises her once again, as he had at the Met exhibit. With every passing page, she realizes she hadn’t really known the first thing about this man.

Every time his enemies had sought to diminish him, when his own organization had turned its back on him, when the entire world had grown resentful of him, he had never lost his footing. Planted himself like a tree and stood his ground.

She finally reaches the last page, featuring a side-by-side of two images: a photo of Steve, taken during a USO tour show, and another one of his hand-drawn sketches.

Clipped to the side is a sketch of a monkey in the Captain America uniform, holding an umbrella in one hand and a shield in the other. Riding a unicycle, balanced precariously over a tight wire. A crowd of people huddles beneath it, looking up.

Her eyes shift over to the photo of Steve, looking strangely younger during his USO tour days, though the serum would have substantially slowed down the effects of aging after he emerged from the ice. Flashing his pearly-whites at the camera as he stands triumphantly over a knocked-out Hitler, hands on his hips, he looked like a youthful, boyish version of the Captain America she knows now.

Nervous glint in his eyes as he flashes a bashful smile at his screaming fans, a little clumsy and awkward in his giant frame, as if still unaccustomed to his new physique. Blue-eyed and fresh-faced, cute angel wings decorating the sides of his cowl.

She peers a little closer, though, and notices the tight lines around his flawless smile. Rigid outlines of his shoulders as the heavy shield hangs from his forearm. He hunches over a little, as if weighed down by the giant white star on his chest, plastered bright and center on his tight uniform.

She takes one look at Steve’s photo, once at his sketch, then closes the file.

Damage Control Masterlist

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inertflouride · 2 years

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The Heist- Part 10

This is a fanfiction game which starts here You can find the previous chapters here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 Or you can refer to the dedicated hashtag :)

Call it instinct or whatever you wish to, but I just know it for a fact that whoever is trying to break in, they are here for Jake. Because the only crime this place has ever registered is a burglary and I know for a fact that no burglar is stupid enough to raid a house, especially when the occupants of the house haven’t left.

I go ahead to call out the person that I’m going to dial 911 when Jake covers my mouth with his hand to quieten me and whispers, “Nope. Don’t let him know that we have noticed his activity. Stay here and keep talking to me normally like you would, while I do something about it.”

I follow his directions and start blabbing about random things: things that seem normal and things that do not arise suspicions. I look at Jake and find him removing his shoes and tiptoeing his way to the backdoor, passing through the kitchen skill-fully, leaving behind no sign of his previous nervousness.

He takes out a several knives from the drawers and checks them out, finally choosing the sharpest and the slickest one from the collection and makes his way to the back door. He sticks his back to the door, his right hand on the door knob and left hand holding the knife, ready to attack whoever gets in.

On the other side is the intruder who is still fiddling with the back door lock, unaware that we have caught onto his 'mischief'.

Just when he gets the lock done, which ‘clicks’ in response, Jake opens the door at the same time, masking the fact that the door was actually opened. He cooly waits for the intruder to charge in and the moment he does, he stabs the henchman's shoulder with his knife, making him fall on his knees in pain. Jake quickly gets in action and hits the intruder on the head with the butt of the knife, knocking him unconscious.

We take a collective breath of relief and slump down. “What was that? That happened so freaking quick!”, I exclaim in disbelief on witnessing the power-packed action.

“Don’t worry. It gets better with experience. I guess”, he silently mumbles. “Um MC, do you have anything to tie him up with? If not ropes, then wires or something?”

“Why do you want to even keep this miscreant here?”, I ask in bewilderment when it strikes me, “Oh. You want to get information about him and why is he here.”

“Correct, and now let’s settle with him”, he says hastily, trying to quickly get ahold of our hostage before he gains conscious.

"Tying someone with wires might not be that good an idea though, we need something that holds more firmly. Telling with experience.", I tell him, muttering the last part.

"Say that again, I didn't get that", he hisses with his jaw clenched.

Of course he got jealous, "whatever was I thinking MC", I say to myself as I slap my head. I try to undo the damage caused, diverting from the topic. "Let's not get distracted and focus on the issue at hand", I insisted and rushed to get the item in demand.

I look around, searching aimlessly for something I don't even know about when I stumble on something useful. This could work.

"Here, use this", I suggest, handing him over a duct tape. Without saying something, Jake takes it from me and ties the guy's hands and feet and kicks him to responsiveness.

"Come on Jake, you can't possibly be mad at me, especially for something that happened before I even met you!", I reasoned, partly blaming myself for my lapse of carefulness.

"I'm not mad, I'm just, it's complicated", he trails off. Before I could begin to counter ask him, our dear intruder now captive, starts moving and wakens up. Jake again takes the knife in his hand, slowly tracing the henchman's neck with it.

"Lets start with who you are", Jakes says in a low tone which sends chills down my spine.

"I won't tell you-", he begins and Jakes hits his head with the knife's butt, with a little less force comparatively to when he knocked him out before.

"I think you don't get it, I don't have any problems in torturing information out of you. I can cut your arms, burn your fingers, mhmm, I do have many ideas. What will you prefer though? Also, why do you want to suffer so much for someone who won't even appreciate your loyalty, rather would kill you since you have already failed your mission. Instead I'll set you free once you help me", Jakes smoothly says, giving him a friendly grin and a glance of the knife simultaneously.

"What guarantee do I have that once I help you, you'll let me go?", the intruder asks in fear.

"You have my word. Plus I'm not the bad guy, despite whatever you think", Jakes patiently explains him, keeping his knife away now as a sign of peace.

"Okay. Um, my name is Tim. I work for the Mark Willow. He sent me here you get intel on you and your whereabouts, and preferably kidnap the girl too while I'm at it", he tells, pointing to me. I look at Jake, wanting to ask who Mark Willow is, only to see the colour of his face gone white.

"Go ahead", Jake orders him in an emotionless voice, "what else can you tell me."

"I heard Master Mark say that we'll crush the seed in its germination state", he ends, shaking his head over lack of further information.

Jake goes to the other room, without saying anything more. "What about me? You told me you would set me free! You gave me your word! Release me, please!", Tim starts wailing when he notices Jake leaving without another word.

"If you want to go, stay put and shut up. If he said that he'll let you go, he will, as long as you don't bother us", I warm Tim before taking off after Jake.

What I witness on following him is a complete mess of the room. The entire place is turned on its head, with a raging Jake hitting the wall with his fists. I hurriedly try to pull him back but to no avail. So, I try a different tact and put myself between him and the wall. I close my eyes as he goes on to take another strike at the wall, but stops himself just in time.

I open my eyes slowly and see him look drained, his arms down on either sides "Jake, get ahold of yourself. Calm down!", I say, trying to put down his rage. I make him sit on the bed and hand him a glass of water, also noticing his now bruised knuckles. I get the first aid box from the drawer and start treating his knuckles the best I could.

After ensuring that his knuckles are aided well, I gather up some courage and ask him, "Who is Mark Willow, Jake?"

He finishes the whole glass of water in one go and scoffs before answering. "Take a guess. Bet the answer will leave you shocked." I pause for a second but still stay clueless. "It's the man we are to assassinate, the one who is our mission, and my mentor", he answers defeatedly, his face hung low in his palms.

Oh. My. God.

@a-glimpse-of-fantasy here you go :'))

(Sorry if I was a bit late. I've been travelling since early morning and still am on the way *sobs*)

NEXT PART

#duskwood the heist #duskwood everbyte #duskwood #duskwood game #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #iamjake #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood mc

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