#i scratched my chin thoughtfully and wondered.... would i like this? it seems like i would like this. should i watch it?

[fisheito]

I started reading beastars so now HE's reading beastars .wait

THEY'RE reading beastars

[gubsbuubs]

I hate it when you're right

(18+)

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Female!Reader

Warnings: Friends to lovers; LOTS of teasing, slow burn?, Smut; Creampie; Dirty talk.

Request:Could you do a Jake Peralta x Reader work partners to hookup? Like they’ve been work partners forever, until one night way too late at the bar they hook up? And realize “oh fuck maybe i do like him like that?”

A/N: Hi, my loves! I´m not dead I swear. Here's the first Peralta smut, hope everyone enjoys. 🍒

English is not my first language - My requests are open!

"How much longer is this going to take?" Peralta's agitated voice echoed through the dark alley as he paced back and forth, his restless energy practically bouncing off the walls.

I understood his frustration; we'd been waiting for what felt like hours, when in reality, it had only been about forty minutes. Compared to the nearby street, this alley was dark and dank; graffiti adorned the walls, and the air smelled faintly of waste. At the end of it stood an abandoned store, rumored to be a hotspot for illegal drug deals. After receiving a tip earlier this nigth, we had been staking out the area in hopes of catching distributors. Slowly, I watched as Peralta's impatience grew, and I couldn't help but wonder if our tip had just been a false lead.

Amidst the distant sounds of traffic and the faint hum of the city, Jake's distressed movements seemed amplified; every passing car and footstep only seemed to fuel his uneasiness. Honestly, I couldn't blame him; this place gave off major creepy vibes, but we had a job to do, and that meant keeping our cool and waiting for the right person to arrive.

"Hey, take a breather," I suggested, attempting to soothe his nervous demeanor. "You're coming off a bit suspicious."

He halted in his tracks, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that. I just can't stand waiting, you know?"

"I understand, but we really need to keep it together," I stressed, aiming to ease his tension. "Can you just stand there and act normal?"

"I'm tryiiiiiiing," his voice tinged with a hint of whining as he continued pacing.

"Well, try harder," I urged, "You look like a total cop right now."

His pacing halted abruptly, and he turned to me with wide eyes, a look of realization dawning on his face. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," he muttered frantically. "We look like cops, and we´re getting shot in the face."

"Relax, Peralta," I chuckled, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

"Y/n" He sighed deeply, standing in front of me with his hands in his pockets,"I don't want to get shot; my face is my prized possession." His brow furrowed as he confessed dramatically.

I tilted my head, "Come on, Peralta," I quipped, a playful grin tugging at the corners of my lips. "If you get shot, I think your face would be the least of our concerns. I mean, you'd be dead!"

"Man, I should've prepared a character for a cover-up," Jake exclaimed, shaking his head ruefully. "We can't just stand here looking like this... like cops."

"Well, it's a little late for that now,"

He let out an exaggerated sigh, crossing his arms in frustration. "Let me think of something," he declared, his hand moving to his chin and rubbing it thoughtfully as he pondered our predicament.

I couldn't help but chuckle softly as I glanced around at the dimly lit street nearby, feeling the tension slowly dissipate as Jake's panicked expression softened into one of contemplation.

But then, with a sudden clarity, Jake snapped his fingers, "I've got it!" he exclaimed.

His words were accompanied by his familiar, stupid, and playful smirk. It was a look that spelled trouble, and to be honest, although I knew nothing good would come out of his mouth, I couldn't help but feel intrigued.

"Spill it, Peralta," I said, my hands tucked into my jean pockets, adopting a casual stance as I awaited his response. With Jake, you never quite knew what you were going to get, but you could always count on it being entertaining, if nothing else.

"You see, Y/n," he approached slowly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as his left hand found its place against the wall behind me, anchoring me as he leaned in. "I was thinking..." he trailed off, his tone dripping with exaggerated suspense.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes playfully at his teasing manner. "Oh, here we go again," I retorted gently, halting his advances with a hand on his chest. "Another one of Jake's brilliant ideas, right?"

"Come on, Y/N, don't be like that," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and pleading. "You know you love my brilliant ideas."

"Oh, absolutely," I replied with a touch of sarcasm. "They're right up there with 'let's infiltrate this wedding' and 'let's dress up as clowns for the undercover operation.'"

"Hey, those are classic moments in my detective history," he protested, a grin spreading across his face. "One day they'll make a movie about me."

I couldn't resist lightly patting his chest. "Sure, buddy, for sure."

As Jake leaned in closer, I couldn't deny the surge of warmth that spread through me. Despite my attempts to conceal it, his proximity was starting to affect me.

Jake and I had a playful dynamic, often flirting with each other, and he wasn't shy about expressing his interest; he even told me countless times how I was "missing out" on a chance to be with him.

And don´t get me wrong, while I did find him undeniably attractive, I was hesitant to entertain the idea of taking things beyond friendship. Our coworker-turned-friend relationship was something I cherished, and I didn't want to risk complicating it with romantic entanglements.

So, no, nothing ever happened apart from the casual, harmless flirting. Our banter kept things light and enjoyable, never crossing the line into anything more serious. Despite the occasional temptation, we both understood the importance of maintaining boundaries in our friendship.

"Seriously, hear me out on this one," he continued, "What if we… I don't know… pretend to make out? It's the perfect cover-up!" His suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence as we both processed the absurdity of his idea. His head fell to the side, awaiting my response with a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"You wish, Peralta." I laughed and shook my head. "I mean, I know you'd do anything to steal a kiss from me, but making out in a dark alley? That's a bit too romantic even for you, don't you think?"

"Hey, it was worth a shot, right?" As he moved to step away from the wall, I caught movement at the beginning of the street behind him. Acting quickly, I grabbed him by the tie, the one he always refused to wear, and shot him a warning look. Understanding my silent cue, he lowered his head to mine, trying to appear inconspicuous as he whispered in my ear. "Is it them?"

"Maybe," I quietly answered, my heart pounding as I realized we were being watched. The figures stood at the beginning of the street, whispering to each other; they wore on to us for sure.

"Oh my god, they know, don't they?" he whispered, his voice tinged with worry. "What do we do, Y/L/N? I don't want to get shot in the face," he pleaded, his panic palpable.

Fuck I hate when he's right...

"Screw it," I whispered, my voice filled with determination. Pulling him closer, I crashed my lips into his. He immediately reacted, his arms encircling my waist as he pinned me against the wall. His lips were softer than I imagined, but his hands were rough as they traveled up my sides to rest on the back of my neck, pulling me even closer. Although the kiss was a desperate attempt to obfuscate the approaching perps, it was evident that Jake was definitely enjoying it more than it was intended. I couldn't help but give in to the moment as our kiss intensified as his tongue traced over my lower lip, kindly begging for more.

The footsteps grew louder, signaling the approach of whoever was out there. Without a second thought, his hand found its place on the back of my thigh, pulling me in closer. With my leg lifted around him, our bodies pressed together, and his fingers lightly held me in place.

Abruptly, the footsteps ceased and a voice cut through the moment. "Hey, what are you guys doing here?" one of the men asked, his tone cautious.

Jake broke the kiss. "Do you mind?" He retorted sharply, giving the guy a pointed look, before catching my lips again. I eagerly responded, letting my hands tangle up in his hair as he leaned closer to me.

The two guys just chuckled and exchanged knowing glances before sauntering off to the end of the alley. It worked; the stupid plan actually worked.

I waited until the footsteps were barely audible before breaking the kiss. I raised my head to get a better look, and Jake let his lips travel, leaving warm, open-mouthed kisses down my chin and into my neck. I bit my lip as I suppressed a moan I knew I was holding, glancing to see the two figures waiting by the door. "Jake, they're just standing there." I breathed out.

"Keep your eyes on them," he ordered, as he pressed himself against me.

I fought to keep my focus, torn between the intoxicating sensation of Jake's lips on me and the need to maintain our cover. Despite the overwhelming desire to lose myself in the moment, I stole quick glances towards where the perps stood, ensuring we weren't drawing any unwanted attention.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a new figure emerged, a brown bag in hand, joining the other two with a casual greeting. My heart pounded in my chest; it was going down, and we were going to get these guys. "Jake... Jake," I whispered urgently, breaking our embrace. His eyes met mine, and he immediately understood. Without hesitation, we sprang into action, charging towards the unsuspecting trio.

"NYPD!" Jake's voice boomed, cutting through the tense silence with commanding authority as he brandished his gun. I followed suit, drawing my own weapon, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in my hand. The perps froze, their faces registering shock as they realized they had been caught red-handed.

—xx—

It had been a few days since that night in the alley. With the intel we extracted from the three guys Jake and I caught, we successfully dismantled one of the biggest drug operations in Brooklyn. And to top it off, we managed to nab the ringleader himself. It was a major win for the team and definitely a cause for celebration. So naturally, we found ourselves at Shaw's, ready to toast to our victory.

"To the Nine-Nine," Captain Holt's voice resounded with strength as he lifted his glass high in the center of our circle. "To the Nine-Nine," we all echoed, raising ours in unison. With cheers and the clinking of half-empty glasses, we celebrated our hard work.

"Now disperse," he announced, his tone carrying a hint of warmth. "I want you all to have fun tonight; you deserve it." and with a wave of his hand, he indicated for us to move from our celebratory circle, encouraging us to enjoy the rest of the evening.

With that, I abruptly turned to face the bar, my attention drawn to the array of bottles lining the shelves. Caught off guard by a sudden collision, I stumbled backward, my balance momentarily disrupted. As I blinked in surprise, I found myself locking eyes with Jake, his hands reaching out to steady me by the waist. A rush of warmth flooded through me at the contact, and for a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as our gazes lingered.

"Whoa, sorry about that," I mumbled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as embarrassment washed over me.

His expression turned sheepish as he offered a tentative smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. After a brief moment of silence, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Hey, no worries," he said lightly, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. Raising a hand, he scratched the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture. "Guess I should've watched where I was going, huh?"

Our eyes remained locked, neither of us willing to be the first to look or moove away. "Well, at least we're not in an alley this time," I blurted out, trying to break the awkwardness with a touch of humor. He chuckled softly, the tension between us easing slightly as we both shared a small laugh.

"Dark alley or not, this was a great case," he said, his tone softening as he spoke. "I loved working with you, and I think we did a great job." His sincerity warmed my heart, and his light squeeze on my side felt like a silent reassurance.

Taking a step back, I broke away from his hold, trying to compose myself. My heart raced with the sudden rush of emotions. "Well... um..." I stammered nervously, my mind scrambling for something coherent to say. "I think we should celebrate. I'll be with Rosa at the bar," I continued, my voice wavering slightly as I awkwardly backed away from where we stood. "I'll see you around, Peralta."

As I approached the bar, Rosa's amused expression was already evident. Her playful tone cut through the air as I settled onto the bar stool beside her.

"What the hell was that?" she quipped.

I offered a weak shrug, attempting to play it cool. "What was what?" my voice slightly shaking as I avoided her knowing gaze.

"Oh, come on," she teased, gesturing toward the table behind her where Peralta and Charles were now seated. "That little dance back there, the eyefucking," she continued.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no eyes were fucking back there!" I held my finger up in protest, trying to suppress a nervous laugh.

She sighed and took a sip of her drink, her gaze thoughtful. "Man, what the hell happened on the stakeout? You guys have been so weird…the glances, the lingering touches..."

"Hey, we have been doing none of that," I lied, attempting to deflect Rosa's probing with a forced casualness. Deep down, I knew she wasn't the only one who noticed. Despite being preoccupied with the bust operation for the past few days, I couldn't ignore the subtle shifts in Jake's behavior around me. He looked at me more often than usual, sat closer, and his touches lingered longer. I understood it all too well. I wasn't oblivious. We shared a kiss, and it wasn't just any kiss. There was something there—something I couldn't shake off.

"Bullshit," she retorted, "I mean, I understand tuning Boyle out when he talks, but Jake is literally not listening to a single word."

I glanced from my drink to the booth where Jake sat, slumped against the leather cushions with his legs spread out. He appeared relaxed, toying with his whisley glass that sat on his thigh. His gaze was already on me, peeking through his lowered eyebrows.

Our eyes met, and in that moment, I found myself unable to look away from him, captivated by the intensity of his gaze. What the hell was this man doing to me? It was as if every fiber of my being was drawn to him, despite my best efforts to resist.

"See, you're doing it again!" Rosa exclaimed loudly, her voice cutting through the chatter of the bar.

I immediately shook my head, laughing nervously. "Oh my god! Doing what, Diaz?" I turned toward the bar, signaling for another round of drinks, hoping to distract both of us from the uncomfortable topic.

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening as she leaned in closer. "The. Eye. Fucking," she punctuated each word.

"Rosa! No!" I exclaimed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No eyefucking going on," I added quickly, hoping to put an end to the teasing before it went any further.

"I know you kissed him," she said casually, her tone soft but firm, leaving no room for denial.

"What? No, that's not true!" My voice probably went up an octave, betraying my attempt at denial.

Rosa didn't waver, analyzing my reaction with a knowing look that seemed to cut straight through me.

"Fuck," I shook my head, looking to the side in resignation. "Okay, fine, I did, but it was only for the mission," I admitted reluctantly.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Sure, sure, just for the mission."

"Oh, shut up," I lightly smacked her arm, playfully annoyed. "Who told you anyway?"

"Let's just say I have my sources,", a sly smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Diaz!" I threatened, pointing my finger at her. "Spill it now or else!" My tone was half-joking, but there was a hint of determination in my eyes.

"Okay, okay," she conceded, raising her hands in defense. "It was Boyle."

"Boyle knows?" My eyes widened with shock. If Boyle knew, then everyone knew.

"Yeah, apparently Jake was glowing," she confirmed, "All smiles, couldn't stop grinning like a kid in a candy store." She took another sip of her drink, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "So Boyle insisted, and eventually, he spilled the beans."

"Man, that's so embarrassing," I groaned, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks as I buried my face in my hands.

"Why?" Rosa regarded me with a serious expression.

"Well, because, you know... it's Jake," I mumbled, struggling to find the right words. "I don't want to... to..."

She held knowing look in her eyes, like she could read my thoughts, "To what?"

"Well, you know... be with him... I don't want that," Despite my attempt at denial, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I wasn't convincing anyone, not even myself, that I didn't want Jake.

"Man, it's obvious you guys want to be with each other; just go for it," she said with a shrug, her tone matter-of-fact. "I mean, he's still eyefucking you across the room," she added, gesturing once again in Jake's direction, her point crystal clear.

"He is, isn't he?" I lightly smacked my forehead, as if to hide my face, letting out a chuckle. I felt a sense of relief wash over me; deep down, I knew she had a point.

Glancing over to Jake, it seemed like he hadn't moved an inch since I last looked at him.

"He's not the most subtle," she said, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

I pondered for a moment as I swirled my drink. Well, if Jake was willing to put himself out there to show his interest so openly, then maybe I should do the same. Maybe it was time to stop dancing around each other and just go for it.

"I have to fuck him, don't I?" I quipped with a smile, my voice low and filled with a hint of mischief.

Rosa burst into laughter at my bold declaration, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Well, you don't have to, you know?" she replied between giggles, shaking her head at my blunt honesty.

I finished my drink and set the glass down with a determined nod. "I think I do," I admitted, my voice firm and resolute.

Rosa grinned approvingly. "That's my girl," she said with a proud nod.

"See you tomorrow, Diaz!" I said, giving her shoulder a friendly pat as I left the stool and made my way towards his table.

As I approached, Jake supported a knowing smile, his gaze unwavering from mine, completely focused on me, completely tuning out the random story Boyle was spewing about.

"Hey guys," I announced as I reached the table, "I'm not feeling really well," I admitted, but my tone lacked any hint of tiredness or distress making Jake's eyebrows perk up at my unconvincing excuse. "So I'll just head home, I think I can still catch the last train." It was a statement crafted with a specific purpose in mind—a subtle cue for Jake to follow me. So, I waited for the response I knew was coming, and Jake didn't disappoint.

Quickly drowning his drink, he stood up from his seat. 'No, no, train, come on!' His fingers motioned in an approaching gesture. 'I'll take you home.'"

"Oh…But!" Boyle exclaimed, "But you said you'd take me home…"

We stood in silence for a moment and watched as Boyle's expression shifted from confusion to realization in an instant. Standing up from his seat, he enveloped Jake in a bear hug, practically lifting him off the ground in his excitement. "You know what? It´s a great night! I guess I'll take a stroll along the river," he exclaimed cheerfully, patting Jake on the back before waving us goodbye.

The car ride had been silent so far, the only sounds filling the air were the gentle hum of the engine and the soft background music playing from the radio. Despite the lack of conversation, I couldn't shake the feeling of Jake's eyes on me, his scrutiny palpable, and I was keenly aware of the warmth creeping up my neck. Glancing over, I found Jake stealing glances in my direction, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Eyes on the road, Detective," I said, my finger lightly pushing his chin in the direction of the road, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

His grin widened, but he quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand, his fingers tapping lightly on the weel. "So, you weren't feeling well, huh?" Jake quipped, "Must be that sudden wave of 'I-can't-resist-Jake syndrome,' huh?"

Raising an eyebrow, I turned in my seat to face him slightly. "Oh, you think you're so funny, don't you?"

"It's a burden, really," he added with an exaggerated sigh. "Having to be this funny all the time,"

"Sometimes I wonder if you're compensating for something with all that humor."

"Oh, please, like you're not secretly enjoying every moment of it." He let his head fall back sligthy as he let out a troathy chuckle. "I couldn't help but notice how your eyes kept wandering over to me tonight. Got a little crush, Y/n?"

"Please, Peralta, don't flatter yourself. I was just admiring the artwork on the walls" I remarked with a sly smile as I leaned closer, my arm resting behind his seat and my breath brushing against his cheek. "You, on the other hand, were really pushing it out there. I mean, could you have been more obvious?"

"Oh, come on," he glanced over at me. "You can't fool me with that excuse. I know you were totally checking me out."

"Maybe…" I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, a playful glint in my eyes.

"Of course you were," he replied, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest lightly on my thigh. "And can you blame yourself? Of course not. I mean, look at me."

"Please, Peralta, you're not that irresistible." I scoffed while looking down at his hand, trying to maintain my composure despite the growing warmth between my legs.

"Oh, I beg to differ," he murmured as his fingers now traced gentle circles on my thigh, "Admit it, Y/N. You've been dying for me to touch you like this."

My breath caught in my throat, and I simply let out a chuckle as I slumped back against my seat. "You're trouble, you know that?" I shook my head, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in my tone, as I let my gaze drift out the window.The familiar facade of my building stood tall against the city skyline as the car gently came to a stop.

"Yeah, guilty as charged," he murmured as we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

With a coy smile, I glanced back over my shoulder. "You know that if you're guilty of something, you shouldn't be confessing your crimes to a cop."

"Well, lucky for me, Detective, you've been off the clock for..." He glanced at his watch as he trailed closely behind me, "...3 hours and 38 minutes now.

"I might be off the clock, but I can still cuff you, Peralta," I said, tapping the handcuffs at my waist.

As I turned the key and my fingers fumbled with the locks I heard him inching closer. I could feel the warmth of his body as he pressed against my back, with gentle precision, he lowered his head, and I felt his breath grazing the nape of my neck.

"Me, in cuffs, at your mercy?" His lips brushed against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, but wouldn't that be the highlight of your night?" His voice was low and filled with playful suggestion.

With a soft laugh, I finally managed to open the door, turning to face him, my heart pounding with anticipation. "Are you projecting, Peralta?" I countered as I met his gaze, slowly backing away, inviting him in as he approached me at the entryway.

He quickly stepped in, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The room felt suddenly smaller, warmer, with just the two of us. As he reached me, he circled his arms around my waist, pulling me closer "Mehh, maybe just a little,". His fingers deftly undid the zipper of my leather jacket, and his eyes didn't tear away from my chest.

"Like what you see, Peralta?" I quipped, letting my hands meet his own on his chest.

"Yeah," he chuckled as he leaned in to press a kiss on my collarbone. "You changed your curtains, didn't you?" He added playfully, his breath warm against my skin.

"Oh yeah?" I slowly started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "I can't believe you´d noticed that."

As we reached the sofa, his hands guided my jacket off, the leather slipping down my arms with a subtle force. Our eyes remained locked as the leather pooled at my feet.

I gestured with a tilt of my head for him to take a seat, and with grin he complied, his fingers skillfully undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles flexed under the fabric as he discarded it to the side. Then he eased onto the sofa, spreading his legs and letting his arms rest casually on the back of it, lightly tilting his head back.

As I removed my pants, he drew in a deep breath, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on me. Straddling him, I rested my hands on his shoulders, sensing his firm grip on the back of my thighs for stability. With my knees on either side of him, I gradually eased myself onto his lap, the heat of his chest pressing against mine, still covered by the random top I threw on this morning.

"No perps today?" he joked, his hands settling on my ass while his nose lightly brushed against my chest, inhaling my scent. "I kind of enjoyed the audience."

I shook my head as I leaned down to grab his chin, urging him to meet my gaze. "Just you and me, Jake," I murmured against his lips. "What do you think?"

"Well, Y/n," he whispered, "I think you should really kiss me."

"Yeah, I should," I nodded, but just as our lips were about to meet, I pulled back slightly. "Or maybe I'll just leave you hanging," I teased as I leaned back, keeping him at arm's length.

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "You're playing dirty now, huh?" His hands cupped my flesh forcefully as he pulled me forward, spreading my cheeks slightly and pressing me against him. The sudden movement elicited a gasp from my lips, feeling the subtle grind of his crotch against mine. A soft moan escaped me as I surrendered to the satisfying friction rocking my hips against his bulge.

"Maybe," I teased once again, leaning in close before pulling back again. I intensified the grind of my hips as his hands moved to my shoulders, sliding the straps of my top down, the fabric gathering around my stomach, exposing more of my skin to his hungry gaze.

"You're killing me here," he protested as his fingers traced the delicate lacy edges of my bra.

"Oh, but where's the fun in making it easy for you?"

As his head fell back against the sofa, a deep exhale escaped him, a mix of frustration and pleasure. Seizing the opportunity, I pressed my lips against his neck, relishing the shudder that ran through him, accompanied by a low sigh of pleasure. My hand lightly closed against his throat, keeping him in place as I continued to kiss upward, tracing the line of his jaw with eager lips.

"You're driving me insane," he growled, his voice thick with need. Grabbing me by the nape of my neck, he pulled me into a kiss.

As our bodies pressed together, he skillfully unclasped my bra, freeing my breasts to his eager touch. His mouth descended upon my right nipple, and as he sucked and nibbled, I couldn't help but grind against him with more force.

I tugged on the hairs at the back of his head, urging him closer, craving more of his touch. His fingers trailed down my abdomen, teasing the hem of my panties before boldly slipping beneath them.

I gasped as his cold fingers met my warm skin. "Fuck, Jake," I breathed out, my voice trembling with desire.

"Oh, my name sounds so good when you say it like that," he confessed, his fingers moving slowly against my clit. My head rested on his shoulder, and his fingers continued to explore my soaked folds, "Yeah, just like that, doing so well," he praised as he lightly brushed my entrance, slowly dipping his middle finger inside of me.

With a desperate urgency, I moved my hands to his sides, tugging at the belt loops of his jeans. "Off, off," I managed to say.

He nudged his hips forward, lowering his jeans and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out. I immediately took him in my hand, stroking him lightly as a pornographic moan escaped his lips.

His hand then moved my panties to the side, allowing me to guide him against my clit before lining him with my entrance. Slowly, I lowered myself on to him, feeling every inch of him stretching me as he filled me completely.

His right hand met the back of my neck once again, pulling me into a kiss, as his left cupped my ass with force, aiding me with the up and down movement of my hips.

God, you feel incredible," he groaned against my lips, his voice husky with desire.

With a breathless laugh, I whispered back, "You're not so bad yourself."

A playful chuckle escaped him "Always got something to say, don't you?" He teased, his hips rising to meet mine with eager intensity.

My head fell back, overcome with pleasure, as the familiar coil of ecstasy began to build in the depths of my stomach. "Fuck, don´t stop.". His movements remained steady, his hand reaching out to play with my clit, intensifying the pleasure coursing through my body. "God, Jake... it's... it's too much," I gasped, desperation evident in my voice as my hands clung to his shoulders and arms for support.

"Oh, I can't fucking last with you sounding like that," he admitted, letting his forehead rest against mine.

"Then don't," I whispered, my voice barely audible amidst the sounds of our heavy breathing and the pounding of flesh. His pace quickened, pushing me closer as I arched my back. "I´m cumming.. Oh.. Fuck"

A moan escaped his lips as he watched me with intensity, his eyes tracing every contortion of my face as pleasure surged through me. I felt the wave of bliss crash over me, my body trembling with the force of my release.

In that moment, I could tell he couldn't hold back any longer. "Do it," I urged, locking my gaze with his and giving him a reassuring look.

"You sure?" His eyes searched mine, seeking reassurance.

I nI nodded eagerly, feeling my body tremble as I sensed him pulsating inside of me. The sensation of him nearing his climax, his moans reverberating through the room, was intoxicating and overwhelming in the most delicious way imaginable. As he released into me, I let out a satisfied sigh, capturing his lips once again.

We remained intertwined, his arms wrapped around me protectively, as his cock still throbbed gently inside me. His fingers traced soothing patterns on the small of my back, and I nestled closer to him as his lips found their way to my forehead, planting a tender kiss.

"You know? I hate when you´re right," I whispered, my voice soft against his skin.

"About what in particular?" He chuckled.

I smiled against his neck, feeling a warmth spread through me. "About... this," I confessed, lifting my head slightly to meet his gaze. "That I'd been missing out."

"Well, lucky for you, Y/n, we still have plenty of time to catch up,"

--XX--

Tagg: Hi my loves, I took the liberty to tagg everyone who liked my post about writing smut for peralta - Hope you enjoy <3

@haikyuuhoee @1dilflover @Airu_wu @gingersnap126126 @Gingersnap @her5 @bellaabee @bestnottoask @Taylorswiftsboatinglicense @tortelliniturtle7 @sabage101 @izzyyyyy777 @dilflover-3 @yomamacrusty @Outsiderslover @vintagevickyy @spencerreidmyst3ry @ikea2-0 @jj170623 @icybluefox @sxphiarz @syrk @raven-kroe @longlostishmael22 @joonbum @angrygirlloudvoice-blog @mandarinmoons @apple-dilf-shake @readingblogsstuff @m1keyj @luciferdelivery @hunter-ameliaredstone @laciruelaa @iloveslashers @bellaaggg @reiderrambles @strapsforyoonie @spencerreidmyst3ry

[imaginedanvrs]

encrypted relations

part 6 l masterlist

summary: yelena belova x reader. when natasha takes you under her wing, she becomes like family, and the last thing you want is to lose that. but when you meet her younger sister who you know is off limits, you have to decide between what you really want and hope for minimal damage

word count: 3.4k

warnings: nothing, just platonic romantic fluff with a hint of angst at the end

Yelena scratched her fingers under Marty’s chin as the pair of them waited for you to reemerge from the small supermarket. You had been in there a while and the blonde was beginning to wonder if you had been somehow kidnapped in the building. She wouldn’t put it past you. Just as she was about to send you a text, you came out of the exit with your rucksack noticeably full. 

  “What took so long?” Yelena grumbled. 

  “I wasn’t even that long,” you defended as you started out of the parking lot. 

  “I thought you had been kidnapped,” she huffed. 

  “You said that when I took too long in the toilets last time we went out for lunch.”

  “Kate agreed with me,” Yelana stated.

  “It’s not my fault I got lost!” The blonde hummed thoughtfully. 

  “And you're leading the hike?” She queried. You shot her a dirty look that she merely grinned at. 

  “Don’t you trust me, Belova?” You nudged. 

  “I am just hoping that Marty is secretly the leader,” she said. Marty looked back at the blonde upon hearing his name. “Am I right?” Marty barked back. “Thank goodness,” Yelena muttered loud enough for you to hear. 

  “Ass,” you muttered back. 

  You made it to the start of the trail without digging into your snack supply too much, mainly due to Yelena scolding you for doing so, and made your way through the start of the forest. There was a light chill to the breeze that you knew you would be grateful for once you began to work up a sweat and enough sunshine to pak through the gaps in the trees. As you predicted, there weren’t that many people around due to it being a weekday morning so you let Marty off the lead to ‘scout ahead’ as Yelena called it, leaving the two of you to stroll side by side. 

  You didn’t talk much, not feeling the need to fill the comfortable silence that allowed you to focus on the scenery around you, until you felt Yelena’s familiar hand slip into yours. You were taken aback at first, risking a glance at the blonde who seemed tentative about her actions. You smiled, not saying anything, and interlaced your fingers with her own. It felt right. 

  “How often do you come out here?” Yelena asked as she watched Marty take interest in an oak tree. 

  “Whenever I get the chance, not as much as I used to though,” you answered. 

  “Why not?” 

  “I guess I used to come out here more when I needed to clear my head, around the time I met Nat actually, and I don’t tend to need that so much these days.” You could tell Yelena had some follow up questions there so you swiftly continued. “Besides, I don’t always have the time and I never want to drag Nat out here after her missions and Kate’s not good with nature and neither is Ava so,” you shrugged.

  “Is Ava the coworker?” 

  “That’s the one,” you nodded. A beat passed between you. 

  “She seems friendly,” Yelena noted, yet her tone seemed to suggest otherwise. 

  “Yeah, she’s also really into your sister.” Yelena looked like a deer caught in headlights. You chuckled and gave her hand a light squeeze.

  “That might be good for her, maybe if she got laid she wouldn’t interrogate me about my love life so much,” Yelena huffed. 

  “She does?” You queried, surprised that Natasha was actually so upfront about that with her sister. 

  “Everytime I see her,” Yelena grumbled. 

  “What do you tell her?” You asked, keeping your focus on Marty as he paused to wait for you to catch up. 

  “I tell her I have fun,” Yelena said simply. You nodded, not sure what to make of that summary. The blonde recognised your silence though perhaps misreading your mood. “I don’t tell her about you, don’t worry,” she insisted. 

  “Do you want to?” You didn’t think before you spoke. Yelena didn’t answer for a long moment, making you realise that you had never actually asked the blonde how she felt about keeping your secret from her sister. You never thought that, given how close they were, that might be an aspect of her life Yelena would want to share with her big sister. You had Kate to talk about it with, who did Yelena have? 

  “I don’t know,” she finally said, though she sounded unsure. 

  “Really?” You stopped, pulling on Yelena’s hand gently so that she paused as well. She looked to the floor and you lifted her chin with your thumb.

  “I want whatever you want,” she said, sounding almost too devoted. “Come on,” she smiled, pulling you back to the trail. “I want to see where this ledge is.” 

  “It’s just up there,” you pointed left to a steep hill half a mile away, struggling to forget the obvious signs that Yelena wasn’t as comfortable with your secret as you were, not that you were particularly enjoying it yourself. 

  Marty seemed to recognise the area because he started to dash on ahead until you called him back, cautious of him getting too excited by the ledge. He came back to your side promptly and you compromised with his eagerness by sprinting up the final stretch with him until you reached the top. The ledge overlooked the entire trail with a sea of trees beneath them and the city just beyond it. You could only hear the faint hum of New York if you listened closely for it, otherwise it was pure peace. 

  “This is a cool view,” Yelena stated as she gazed out. 

  You took your rucksack off and pulled out the flannel print picnic blanket that you had triple checked for before you left the apartment, and laid it down on the ground. Yelena joined you as you pulled out the food you had brought, some of which being new to the blonde, and got Marty’s water bowl that you filled with water. 

  “I’m sure you’ve seen some pretty cool views before this.”

  “Yes, I was always the best sniper so I always got the sights,” Yelena recalled somewhat fondly, as though they provided a silver lining in hindsight. “Lots of cities,” she added. 

  “What was your favourite?”

  “Amsterdam,” Yelena answered immediately. 

  “Did you go to the red light district?” You asked, only half joking.

  “Where else would I have been?” She deadpanned. “Our transportation was late so I got to go sightseeing a little.” 

  “I’m sure you got an eyeful,” you accused, making the blonde chuckle without denying anything. 

  “So what if I did, you would too,” she pointed out. 

  “If I ever go I’ll let you know,” you said. Yelena hummed as she rummaged through the snacks you brought. 

  “What is a twinkie?” Yelena questioned as she held up the packaged cake. 

  “Something you need to try if you're gonna stay in America,” you told her almost sincerely.  

  “Nat said she would bring me back food from England,” Yelena said as she opened the treat.

  “She better be bringing me some too!” You exclaimed. 

  “Perhaps I will share,” she considered. 

  “I can’t see you as the sharing type,” you grumbled. 

  “Depends how good it tastes,” Yelena muttered back. You bit back a smile.

  You spent some time with the blonde introducing her to the western foods she hadn’t yet tried, most of which she surprised herself by enjoying, while she pointed out the different species of birds that could be heard from the ledge. 

  “I never knew you were such a bird head,” you quipped. 

  “I thought this was basic knowledge,” she objected. 

  “The red room thought that was basic knowledge?” 

  “I can also identify types of snakes,” she said. 

  “That’s pretty cool,” you admitted. 

  “Snakes are very cool,” Yelena corrected. “I want one.”

  “I would come over to see that.”

  “Just to see that?” She asked, a small smirk playing on her lips. 

  “What else would I be there for?” You asked, a coy smile starting on your own lips. 

  “Maybe the owner of the really cool snake,” she replied, leaning closer to you. 

  “Well I guess she sounds like a fun person to hang out with too,” you muttered, placing a hand on the blonde’s cheek to pull her in for a tender kiss, both of you smiling. 

  “Come on,” you said as you pulled away. “There's a creek a little way North that Marty likes swimming in.” Yelena helped you pack up before you both made your way back down the hill with Marty starting on ahead, his tail whipping through the air frantically. 

  This time, you were the one to reach out and take Yelena’s hand, swinging it comfortably as you felt her give you a soft grin. “How does the assassin keep her hands so soft?” You queried aloud. 

  “It’s important to moisturise,” she said simply, enjoying the way you ran your thumb over the back of her hand. 

  You made it to the creek within an hour, comforted by the fact that it was entirely the same as the previous times you had visited. As you strolled down, you found the thick oak tree that had fallen over the creek what looked to be years prior and didn’t hesitate to climb onto it with Yelena close behind. You held out your hands steadily, cautious of any slippery spots and occasionally feeling Yelena’s hands on your waist to steady you. You made it to the middle and sat down, your shoes barely an inch above the water. 

  Marty stood several feet in front of you in the creek, unaffected by the gentle current that only reached his stomach in the deeper areas. You kept a watchful eye on him as you picked up the stick on the tree and threw it as hard as you could, making Marty go bounding after it. Yelena laughed lightly as she observed your dog find the stick with impressive ease and come bouncing back, surprising you both when he stood in front of the blonde to give her the stick. 

  “Does that mean he thinks I’m in charge?” Yelena asked as she took the stick and threw it back into the creek, getting it significantly further than you did. 

  “He has good intuition like that,” you said, taking your phone out to snap a couple photos of Marty running back. 

  “And you found him in a dumpster?” Yelena recalled. 

  “Yeah, he was being kicked out by a family of raccoons,” you said, remembering how you had been passing by the alley when you heard the commotion. 

  “And he protects you every night,” Yelena mused, throwing the stick again.

  “In his defence, he was injured at the time! I took him to the vet and… I don’t know. I guess I thought it would be good for both of us if he stayed with me. He seemed to agree,” you recalled. “He stopped my nightmares,” you added after a pause. 

  Yelena glanced your way for a second then looked back at the creek, considering her words. “What did you dream about?” She asked outright. You didn’t mind. 

  “I kind of used to hack into S.H.I.E.L.D before I started working for them,” you started. Yelena looked at you with a wide grin, seeming somewhat impressed. 

  “No way,” she laughed. “And they hired you?”

  “Thanks to Nat,” you nodded. “Anyway I used to pass on the information I found to some not great people and it got a lot of people hurt,” you explained, the guilt still present. “So I used to dream about what happened to them, because of me.” Yelena stared down at the water running beneath her, knowing that feeling of guilt all too well. 

  “You help people now though,” she said. “You made it work.”

  “Yeah,” you smiled. You had rebuilt your life the way you wanted it, you couldn’t dwell on past mistakes.

  You stayed by the creek until Marty eventually tired himself out and decided to head back. Yelena hopped down first, greeting Marty several steps ahead and giving you a chance to take your phone out again and take a swift photo of the blonde while she was distracted. You smiled at the moment you had captured and pocketed the device before Yelena noticed. 

  The blonde gave a dramatic cry of distress when Marty began to shake all of the water from his body while Yelena was standing too close. “You’re not ready for a dog if you didn’t see that coming,” you called to her. She gave you a middle finger in response as she wiped the droplets from her face. 

  “Now I’ll have to shower you both down,” you told her with a tut. 

  “I’m not sharing your shower time with your dog,” she told you with a glare though she held out her hand to take your backpack from you to give you a break.

  “Thank you for showing me this,” Yelena said.

  “Thanks for coming,” you shrugged. “I knew you would like it and you’re not bad company,” you quipped. 

  “You’re not so bad yourself, detka,” she smiled. You loved when she called you that, but you were admittedly more conscious of it since pondering the ethics of keeping what you and Yelena had a secret. 

“We’ll tell Nat soon,” you said suddenly. Tell her what you weren’t sure, having never used any label with Yelena before. “Just let me get my will finalised first.” Yelena gave you a soft smile that you got the impression from that she wasn’t entirely certain. 

  “We don’t have to,” she assured but that didn’t matter to you now that you knew how she really felt. You needed to ask Yelena what you would even tell her sister. It felt like you were more than friends with benefits but to say it aloud? To be the one to do it? You didn’t want to risk discovering you were wildly misreading your connection to Yelena. You didn’t want to be the one to admit you wanted to be more than that. You didn’t ruin what you hoped to someday look back on as your first date. 

~

You didn’t look up when you heard the six small wheels run across the floor in front of your desk followed by the dull thud of your coworker propping her elbows up next to your screen. She peered around to gain an awkward look at your work before setting her gaze on you. You cracked a smile but didn’t meet her gaze having been used to Ava’s interruptions since you first met her.

“You wanna come over to eat leftover pizza and watch cringy reality shows tonight?” She asked. 

  “I don’t even get fresh pizza?” You quipped. 

  “I’m too broke to spend on you,” she said with a grin until you swiped your hand out to knock her elbows off your desk. 

  “Some other time, Nat’s coming over tonight.” It had been a while since you had seen the redhead. She had been away for a few months which you had leant to be normal in the years that you had known her, but it didn’t mean you hadn’t missed the Russian. 

  “Tell her I say hi,” Ava smirked.

  “Stop trying to get in her pants, she’s too much of a workaholic to try that with,” you chuckled as you saved your latest report. 

  “As long as she’s not straight I can still work my magic.” 

  “Work it at Stark's next party,” you said with a pointed look. As much as you loved Ava, you weren’t going to spend your rare evening with Natasha as a wingwoman. 

  “Fine,” Ava huffed with a smile as she pushed herself back from your desk and wheeled back to her own in the office chair to grab her bag as you did the same. 

  The walk back to your apartment was as safe as they came. Once you reached the mainland, it was a ten minute walk to your apartment complex with every step of the way being unofficial S.H.I.E.L.D grounds just like your apartment. In some sense, it was a safehouse. Not all of its tenants were those that needed some precautionary protection, but they were all S.H.I.E.L.D personnel. 

  In your first year working at S.H.I.E.L.D it was mandatory that you lived in the building, partly as house arrest and partly from genuine concern. Though you had struck a deal with division that let you off lightly, there was still a trial period needed to ensure that you had the intentions you claimed you did. But they had also never found Rae. She never returned to your old apartment though occasional public security footage showed that she was still out there and able to avoid S.H.I.E.L.D with alarming ease. 

  After the first year, you were welcome to continue staying in the apartment building and Natasha had insisted that you should for your own safety. The redhead had given you various self defence lessons and encouraged you to take the ones S.H.I.E.L.D offered, then told you it was best to stay at the building for practicality. Then she had told you, in a less guarded tone, that she wanted you to be safe. That protectiveness had only grown over time. 

  When Natasha arrived, she brought with her a six pack of beers which you knew meant a lot of catching up. “Hey, flash drive,” she said as she hugged you in the doorway, holding on for a second longer than usual despite holding the pack. Yeah, she had a lot to catch you up on and she wasted no time in doing it. 

  “Then, being the dumbass she is, she put her batons together and shoved them into the propeller! Luckily I had a parachute pack on and got to her quick enough to get it on her otherwise I would have been so pissed at her!” Natasha exclaimed before taking the final swig of her beer. 

  “She sounds badass,” you input as you tried to visualise everything Natasha described. Her little sister sounded like somewhat of a firecracker and you were dying to see that in person. Maybe it was just the alcohol in your system, but Natasha made Yelena sound like someone you definitely wanted to get a drink with. 

  “I’m sure you two would get on great,” Natasha said as she rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

  “I hope I do meet her soon, I want to hear all about what you were like as a kid,” you admitted. Natasha shook her head as her smile widened, though a second too long passed for her to think about how things weren’t always good. You knew this, she had told you before. Once you had told Natasha about your time living with Rae, she had decided to share that vulnerability and tell you about the red room. So to hear that the redhead and her sister had been able to give them such a blow? You were thrilled for her. 

  “She’s helping the other widows now, the ones we couldn’t get to.” You hummed, thinking about the scale of what Yelena was taking on. “I told her I would help as much as I can but…” she gestured around. 

  “The rest of the world needs you to,” you shrugged, knowing that was what she meant. 

  “I wouldn’t be back if I wasn’t so sure I was leaving it in safe hands,” Natasha admitted. “I just hope she's not doing anything I wouldn't do, especially with Alexia there to encourage her.” 

  “You wouldn't be happy if she did some of the things you do actually do,” you pointed out. 

  “That's different!” She exclaimed with a laugh. “I have a lot of big sister nagging time to make up for! Just wait until she has her first girlfriend.” Oh? 

  Natasha must have noticed you taking note of that because she tapped your cheek with the back of her index finger. “Don't even think about it,” she warned with a knowing smile, making it impossible to tell if she was joking or not. You were about to ask, but Natasha was reaching for the TV remote. “And you better not have been watching Survivor without me.”

[take-taker-taken]

Hi! I hope you're having a lovely day/night wherever you are in the world. I'm new here and saw you take requests. Please bare with me, I've never done this before lol. I was wondering if I could have a ministry Taker x fem gothic plus size reader fic? As for smut or fluff I'll honestly let you decide, I'm good with either. I just love ministry taker so much. He has me in a chokehold!

Hello, lovely Anon! I do hope you’re still around and didn’t give up hope of me ever answering you! Here is your beloved Ministry!Taker fic… (link to Part Two is at the end).

Untitled

You carefully apply liner to your eyes, the finishing touch to the smoky look. You know that he’s watching you intently - he always does, to the point where you wonder if he enjoys the ritual of make up as much as you do. You stain your lips a deep, dark red and then sit back and admire the finished product in the mirror.

“You’re beautiful.” The simple statement rumbles from him and you turn to look at where he sits on one of his thrones. This one is slightly smaller than the grand one in the great hall but it’s no less majestic for that. He smiles - an intriguing combination of pleasure, danger and barely-disguised lust - and strokes finger and thumb thoughtfully over his goatee beard. “Come here and sit with me.”

You stand up and turn with a swirl of your black velvet skirt as you smooth down your top, which is cleverly fashioned after his cloak with a deep hood that would hide your face if you used it. The sleeves flare out at the ends, adding to the flowing, floaty quality of the outfit. You slowly walk over to him with a confidence that a few months ago didn’t exist - he used to terrify you and when he plucked you from obscurity to be by his side, you’d barely been able to mutter two words to him. He had chosen, though, and you were to be his. He had seen something in you and so had persevered, not allowing you to be away from him for too long at a time, determined that you would not only grow accustomed to him but that you would learn to find pleasure in his company.

He extends a hand to you as you approach and unafraid, you reach out and take it as you step up on to the platform that the throne sits upon. You know that when he bids you to ‘come and sit with’ him then he wants you close and sure enough, he pulls you in and you hop up on to his lap. As huge as he is, you had been so self conscious the first few times; worried that you were not a waif-like figure. Such things are no longer a concern and you smile and lean against him as one powerful arm encircles you, his fingers stroking up and down your waist.

Your head tucks neatly under his chin if you press yourself fully to him, but you find that you’re feeling playful tonight. His immediate attention has been taken by the book that rests on the arm of the throne and so you slowly slide your hand up the centre of his back. He doesn’t react until you reach his neck, your fingers seeking the bare skin that hides beneath his mane of dark hair. You scratch the nape gently and he rolls his shoulders with a low, rumbling sigh of satisfaction. Encouraged, you turn your face up and deliver a row of small kisses to his jawline before reaching up to give a soft tug on his beard. He turns at that and you look up into stormy green eyes before giving a cheeky giggle, but your hand doesn’t relinquish its grip on the facial hair.

“Something ails you, my princess?” His voice is never particularly animated but you don’t find that scary anymore.

“You called me all the way over here, but seems you’re only interested in that book.”

His arm tightens around your ample waist while his other hand reaches up and covers over the one of yours that holds his beard. “Wanting some attention are you, little one?”

You nod as you give him a playful pout and a mildly pleading look. He guides your hand from his chin and then raises it to his lips, kissing it softly as you look on. He lets go of your hand and then nudges your chin up with one long finger. He kisses along your jaw just as you did to him and you close your eyes, enjoying the feel of the bristly hair against your skin.

“Such a stunning gothic beauty,” He murmurs into your ear, the timbre making you shiver pleasantly. “I knew from the moment I saw you that there was fire inside you.” He caresses the back of your neck with the tips of his fingers while his other hand seeks out the hem of your top so that he can touch bare skin. “It just needed someone to nurture that glow…” As his fingers stroke across your stomach you think back to the beginning of your time with him, when you used to try and move away from touches like this, fearing that there was ‘too much’ flesh there. Now you have no such worries and wriggle around, turning yourself in his lap as his kiss returns, to your mouth this time.

He teases your lips apart and you gladly open your mouth to allow his long tongue entry and place your hand on the side of his face. There’s still a part of you that can’t quite believe that you’re allowed to touch him, to kiss him and to lay with him. He chose you to be at his side; he chose to love you. You open your eyes and whimper slightly with disappointment as he draws back from the kiss and there’s amusement in his gaze.

“You’re wanting more, princess?”

“Always,” you reply, your thumb stroking his cheek.

“I rather fear that I shouldn’t.” He says teasingly. “You only just finished your make up and if I take you to bed then it’ll surely be ruined.”

You smile up at him and tug gently on his beard again. “I don’t mind.”

He growls at your latest assault on his facial hair and snaps his teeth playfully at your hand before standing up with you in his arms. You giggle delightedly as you know that nobody else sees this side to him.

“Very well, girl - you leave me no choice but to teach you some consequences for your teasing.” He dips his head and kisses you again before drawing back to nip at your lips with his teeth. You reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck and let your head fall against his chest as he carries you from the room while muttering dark, lustful promises.

TTT

Next

[tonowaritrash]

Hello! can request a juice fic of reader having a moment of thought of having kids someday and tonowari is thinking "we can do that", please? :)

was that a typo nonny? i’m scratching my head at “juice fic” lol, but i’m going to assume you mean fluffy?

fluff? on MY nsfw avatar writing blog? it’s more likely than you think <3

pairing: tonowari x reader

tags: tooth rotting fluff, sweet tonowari

a/n: bullshitting pandoran flora because i don’t have it in me to google anything lol

you and tonowari walked along the beach hand in hand, the sound of the lapping sea water offering a certain kind of calm. today was the first day off you’d both had in what felt like eons as the tribe always seemed to need the olo’eyktan’s help. today, thank eywa, one of the men offered to lead the hunting party and one of the elders had offered their services to help manage the village for the day, a huge weight off your shoulders to be sure.

you were sharing a fruit that some of the kids had picked from the forest behind the tribe earlier that day. it was a deep blue, almost as blue as you’d imagined the na’vi of the forest would be, and the juice sweet but tangy. roughly the size of your fist, it was filling.

“i should tell Ja’kal he did good today with the foraging,” you said, licking some juice that trailed down your fingers. “these are devine.”

tonowari wiped the corner of your mouth, swiping some juice that had stubbornly refused to go past your lips and he licked it.

his eyes squinted thoughtfully. “not bad. not bad at all. pretty soon he’ll be able to help you find the plants you need to heal the tribe.”

“he’s very dedicated. but he’s so soft, i saw him cry because he accidentally stepped on a insect.”

“a man loving and respecting life as he does is a strength. he had a good mentor.”

you could feel your ears getting warm at the praise and glanced away before he could see the purple blush that was creeping onto your face. “it was nice…taking him under my wing. i hope that one day maybe…” you trailed off with a sigh, looking at the sea.

tonowari didn’t know if you realised your hand had crept to your stomach, but he smiled. kids weren’t something you talked about often, your mating was so new after all.

but from the way you guided and mentored Ja’kal about the ways of the world, about the beauty of pandora and her bounty and about eywa he couldn’t help but think about you being the same with your own children. the ones you would ultimately have with him.

he lifted your chin to face him and kissed you softly. your heart stuttered and eywa only knew how you didn’t drop the fruit you were holding at the abruptness of it all. tonowari didn’t really show affection out in the open like this, saving moments of intimacy at home and away from prying eyes. he was probably thinking about something else that drove him to do it.

his hands wondered down to your stomach, just where yours had been hardly moments ago. you wrapped your arms around him, smiling softly into his lips. he knew you way too well.

he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours. “one day.”

[celaenamyers]

“Why are we here again?” The vampire spawn asked, irritated. Gale was hunched over a large table displaying all sorts of merchandise, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

“I want to bring something for Katria,” he explained. “I feel bad for asking her to search the bodies at the Goblin Camp. No lady should have to witness such horrors.”

Astarion nodded absentmindedly. It wasn't unusual for him to behave this way; he often got easily distracted during walks and conversations, leading him to disapprove of the decisions made by his companions and leader. If Astarion agreed with something, it was probably a mean and cruel action, which rarely happened since the unexpected group was formed.

“Astarion.”

“Gods, what now?”

“What do you think of her?” Gale asked again. “You met her in Baldur’s Gate—what do you think of Katria and her brother Gabriel?”

“Expendable,” Astarion simply replied. “The girl can barely gather mushrooms without poisoning us. Why the sudden curiosity?”

“They’re the children of Lord Kallias Dawn,” Gale replied. “I wonder what they’re doing so far from home.”

“I don’t know,” Astarion glanced at the vendor, who was patiently waiting for Gale to make his choice, and added, “The floating skeleton seems to have taken a liking to her, alongside with Scratch and the Owlbear cub.”

“Withers, yes,” Gale finally selected a leather pouch that appeared to contain sewing and embroidery tools, paying the necessary coins. “I wonder why.”

“Well, our sweet little pet seems to have a fascination with death,” Astarion frowned, his lips curling to reveal his fangs. “She stares at corpses a little too intensively.”

Gale paused for a few seconds to look at his companion. “She is odd, that much is true.”

“Halsin seems to hover around her, too.”

“Jealous, my fanged friend?”

“Why would I be?”

“You met her first,” Gale shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “Come on. Karlach said she’s making stew for the feast. We’re in for a long night of celebration.”

────────────────────

For years, Katria Dawn gazed out her small window, praying to the Gods for freedom. Trapped under the oppressive rule of her father, Lord Kallias, she longed for a life beyond the walls of their estate. When her brother Gabriel suggests a journey from Neverwinter to Baldur's Gate, she believes her wish has finally been granted. However, fate has different plans. After surviving a shipwreck and waking up alongside a warrior named Lae'zel, Katria is thrust into an adventure that will test her strength, unravel long-kept secrets, and redefine what freedom truly means.

-AN ASTARION FANFICTION (link)

[naboman]

Pierrot.

Theme: A series of short interactions between bsd characters based on the Italian theater Commedia Dell'arte. Synopsis: Fyodor feels satiated at finally having what he's been looking for in his hands, but it would be a shame if it were taken from him so unscrupulously. Pairing: D.Fyodor + Fem!Reader. Genres: Drama/Tragedy, comedy in some respects. Warnings: themes of possession and servitude.

notes: Fyodor was initially going to be Capitano, but his character seemed more likeable as Pierrot, lol. these will be very short texts, I think I could write several of them at once (if my laziness cooperates). Good Read <3

Yokohama's Ferris wheel seemed an overrated spot in your eyes, but nonetheless very popular with tourists and local children alike. you wondered why for a moment, but didn't let it spoil the ride, not at this point, since it was the only fun you'd been having for the last few days. You opened the city map been holding in your hands for some time, a little crumpled from everything he'd had to deal with throughout the day. If you had some time, perhaps could stop by a tea store and have a dessert you liked, there were very positive indications around where was and perhaps could indulge your palate with a less bitter taste than usual.

Not that you was the pessimistic type, in fact, had adapted very well to your “conditional release”, but it wouldn't hurt to try to indulge himself a little. Perhaps even your companion would like to share some pleasant food to the sound of falling leaves and waterfalls in the background, as a way of wiping the tired look off his face and allowing your some personal space. “We could have something to eat, yes?” You commented in a voice that was a little too meek for his taste, sounding like flattery, yet he didn't complain, he looked up and greeted you with an icy smile. “What do you think, Fyodor?” The sound of his name coming from your lips made him look thoughtfully out over the landscape. You didn't usually call him by his name, it was mostly codenames or keywords, from 'Chief Sad' to 'Little Mouse'. He admits that the latter is his least favorite. Fyodor put a hand to his chin, he was sure what he wanted and when he wanted it, it wasn't a question worthy of taking up his thoughts, but he was much more intrigued by your comobility than by which dessert he would like to enjoy with you. “You look very comfortable,” he hissed, turning to you with a wave of his master hand, slipping it out of his cloak, the cold wind catching him, making some hairs stand on end "for a hostage" A disgruntled groan escaped from you, although you gave no explanation for it, the disgruntled grimace on your face catching the attention of Fyodor, who mumbled a slight “hm” in response to your exasperated reaction. Cosmo-World's Ferris wheel had stopped, and they were now at the top, with the wind scratching the tip of their noses, with the perfect view to capture all the beautiful sights of Yokohama harbor. You was enjoying the view from the top, as you would soon be back on the floor, where the density of your 'Chief Sad' enemies was setting in. “You didn't answer my question” Defeat fragmented out of you like a sigh. Fyodor groaned looking at your defeat. 'Ah, so that's it,' he mused. “Of course, let's do as you wish.” He finally gave his answer, doing your gluttonous, childish bidding. The controlled timbre of his voice irritated your ears, as if he were dictating how far you could go, and indeed, that's what Fyodor did.

“Just know that trying to fill your frustrations with candies won't get you anywhere.” True, as much as you wanted to avoid the facts, you were now just a small bird on Fyodor's big wing, where he was the only one to decide when and if you would fly again. Not that your life before him was exactly a euphoria of sensations, but it was better than being kept as Fyodor's pet. In all his generosity, he hadn't yet made the decision to actually put a collar on you, or perch you in a silver cage to be put on display. “I was just being kind,” You replied. “Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to be kind to me,” he snapped back, ”Your good deeds will be a good memory for me, believe me.” “Well, I expect no less” You winked with a certain charm in his attitude, bringing a hand to his face, as if stroking his cheek "I can consider myself an important person, after all, you've been looking for me" A small smile filled the flesh of his lips, with a certain arrogance. “I've been looking for you for over a century, I hope you recognize how much headache you've caused me in that time,” he commented aloofly, looking at her with a certain disdain, although his speech had an almost resentful tone. In fact, Fyodor had moved to almost every corner of Eastern Europe when he heard the quote from the paranormal with strong psychic abilities, in which he said that his abilities had led to the deaths of more than half a dozen other bourgeois. Fyodor was fascinated. Until his trump card simply disappeared. When he found her, she had been induced into cryogenics, her body remaining alive and in perfect working order just for this moment, only to be put to good use by someone like him.

If that wasn't a gift from God for all his devotion, then Fyodor had no idea what was. “It makes me question how vital I am to you,” you murmured, savoring the words, catching himself glancing indiscreetly at the man, something that, when he realized, you quickly resumed looking at the tourist map ”but, tell me, do you have a preference for any kind of tea?” “You're a notable part of my thoughts,” He admitted, his arms crossing to resume his posture, tilting his head as if it were nothing, his hair flowing down his face with a diagonal movement "Without you I have a chance, but with you I can be sure, as if… You and i would was made for this exact moment in history," Fyodor hummed like a lover, a small smile on his thin lips. “And I prefer black tea, my dear, thank you for caring”

His confession almost made her heated, but you couldn't allow herself to enjoy the flattery of someone like Fyodor. Fyodor was handling her as if he were playing with the food on his plate, leaving her unsettled and soft enough to mold it as he saw fit. If he was close enough to touch you, he knew that a sensitive woman like you would melt into his evil touch, like a buttery sweet. You snorted, shaking your head, pushing away the tide of the man's impure courtship. The excessive frills of your dress fluttered with the movement, like the feathers of a bird about to take flight. Frankly, he didn't even make the effort to give you decent clothes for the occasion. “You don't have poetic license, don't think you can seduce me by talking about these… things, about destinies, and victory. I'm not a... A whore!” She raged, the map almost suffering the consequences of her anger. Fyodor stared at her with a confused face. He found her a difficult woman to please, rather annoying, but your exploits instigated him. If you had been in his right mind (awake) when you was the daughter of a marquis, he would have tried to woo her to make you his as soon as possible. “In no way was it ever my intention be brute with you, Miss [Name]” Fyodor tried his best to put on a face of prompt repentance. “Forgive me for my profanity, I'm afraid I must be punished for my audacity,” he sighed regretfully. “Indeed you should” “So tell me, miss, what should my punishment be?” Fyodor stretched, the conversation intriguing him to the point of amusement him. “You must let me go,” you said. “I'm afraid I can't give you that,” he laughed humorlessly. “Something else. Take your pick.” “Buy me a fruity sweet” you demanded. “As you wish” He agreed with zero hesitation.

[jewels2876]

Carrying A Torch

Cooking together for @marvelfluffbingo​

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Plus-sized female reader

Word Count: 893

No warnings - just food and fluff!

Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics​

When you had accepted the job with craft services, you expected to be cooking for some interesting people. Nowhere in the contract you had to sign did it state you would ever consider rubbing elbows with some of your favorite actors, let alone your dream crush Tom Hiddleston.  But here you were, creating dishes and desserts for hundreds and staring at the backside of said crush. Currently that backside was covered in a pair of tight blue pants that he seemed to favor and a light grey colored sweater. Wondering to yourself if the sweater was as soft as it looked, you flipped the veggies in the cast iron skillet. 

“MIght I trouble you for another serving?” You turned to see a pair of piercing greenish blue eyes staring back at you. “It’s really delicious and I thought I could use more.” You blushed at the attention from Tom, but smiled easily and offered the veggies straight out of the skillet.

“Let me know what you think. I added a bit of heat to them this time.”

Tom groaned as he took his first bite. “Delicious! You can cook for me anytime.” He watched as you broke out into a wide smile at his compliment. Tom took another bite and looked at you thoughtfully. Don’t say something stupid, he thought as he opened his mouth.

“Well I should be going. These really are delicious .” He gave you a gentle smile and walked away.

A week later, you were in the middle of creating several creme brulees when a loud crash sounded. You watched in horror as the desserts sank in the middle. You looked around for the culprit and saw an apologetic Tom with his head hung. “I am so sorry!”

You sucked in a breath and tried to hold back the tears. “It’s okay Tom. I can start from scratch, but… these were for the directors. They’re going to have my job if I don’t do this right.” Tom’s jaw dropped slightly, not knowing how delicate the situation was.

“I really am sorry…”

“I know. I have to get back to work.” You gave him a small smile as you dumped the ruined desserts in the trash.

“Can I help?”

You startled at the questions. “Can you help?”

Tom flashed a winning smile. “I know that I can help, but may I, since I was the cause of the disaster?”

You merely nodded; Tom’s smile grew wider and grabbed a clean apron from behind you. You handed him 4 large eggs, with instructions to break them and separate the yolks while you warmed cream, sugar, and vanilla bean in a saucepan. The conversation flowed easily as Tom acted as your sous chef. He would ask questions here and there, but he let you do most of the work. As the custards baked, he studied you more closely. “How did you get into cooking?”

You shifted from one foot to another before responding. “I come from a long line of women that didn’t like to cook, so this was a shock to people who know my family. But I took Home Economics in high school and was hooked immediately. I liked being able to make people happy with food.”

The oven timer went off. You pulled out the water bath and eyed the ramikens critically. “These look perfect. I’ll let them chill overnight and finish them up at the luncheon tomorrow.”

“You mean I can’t torch them?” Tom’s face fell. You held back your laugh until the refrigerator door was shut.

“Maybe another time.”

The directors made yummy noises as they slurped up their desserts. You tried to hide your smile behind your hand as a small line of the brulee trickled down the chin of one director.  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

The one who just finished wiped the errant drip off his chin exclaimed. “No thank you! That was amazing! Tom wasn’t lying!”  You stopped and looked at the director in confusion. “He told us you were an amazing chef; count us among your fans.” 

“Thank you,” you said as you slightly bent a knee in respect. You made a mental note to talk to Tom about this the next time you saw him again.  You left the room, signaling the cleanup crew with a nod.

As you walked back to your car, you ran into a hard body. “I am so…” Your words died on your lips as you stared at Tom. “Oh, sorry.” You backed up and moved to walk around him.

Tom reached out and touched your arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you gave him a small smile, unlocking your car. “Thanks again for your help yesterday. The creme brulee was a hit! Although….”

“Although?” He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“They caught me off guard, mentioning you and your compliments on my cooking.” You shrugged before hitting your key fob and opening the car door.

Tom held open your car door as you slid in. “Even if I wouldn't have said anything, they still would have given you rave reviews.”

“Probably.” You settled into your seat, trying not to stare too hard at him. Is he just being nice or…

“Maybe we can make them again sometime, as you suggested. Say, this weekend? After dinner?” Tom’s smile grew just a bit.

You tried not to look shocked as he waited patiently for your reply. “Me? Dinner?” you squeaked. You cleared your throat and took a quick deep breath. “I mean, yes. That sounds great! Maybe I’ll start them before you come over.”

“And you’ll let me use the torch?” 

Something else was sparking at the idea of entertaining this lovely man in your tiny flat. You giggled at the thought. “Yes, this time I’ll let you use the torch.”

[asksirmasterconner]

fmk veldergrath, harlowe, eckbert

“Sometimes one must kill the king for the good of the country.”

Conner scratched his chin, humming thoughtfully.

“…Though I wonder how much I could do by marrying King Eckbert? Mm, but I think I’ll stick by my decision to kill him. Between the other two, if I had to choose one to be stuck with for life, well, Lord Harlowe seems like a wonderful man. I wouldn’t be against a marriage with him at all. Neither would I be against sleeping with Lord Veldergrath. If there’s one good thing that man has, well…”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

original idea, m | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader

summary: Your boyfriend, Kim Taehyung, is observant. He noticed you started your period today and picked up your favorite can of sweet Thai tea on his way back from visiting his best friend Park Jimin. How nice of him until he asks you mid-gulp if he can go in raw.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; unprotected period sex, do not do this unless you absolutely trust the other person; established relationship; low-key crack; lots of fluff; shower smut (fem reader is on her period, handjob, unprotected, wall sex, creampie, doggy); non-idol!BTS, ft Jimin putting ideas in Taehyung's head, who would have guessed

--

“You started your period today.”

You cracked open the can of Thai tea you boyfriend handed you. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw the pad wrapper in the trash.”

“Oh.”

You took a large sip, thinking the conversation was over.

“Does that mean I can go in raw?”

You nearly spit out the entire contents of your mouth. Instead, you choked and swallowed hard, coughing and sputtering. “What?”

Kim Taehyung expression didn’t change. “Does that mean I can go in–?”

You held up your hand, coughing wildly, hacking the words out. “I heard what you said, I just can’t believe you said it, who the fuck?”

Taehyung seemed to understand and nodded, dark brown hair falling over his forehead.

“Oh, right. I was talking to Jimin and he mentioned–”

Oh, of course, how could you not guess, Taehyung’s best friend Park Jimin was putting ideas in Taehyungie’s little noggin and now murdering you as you struggled to breathe.

“–that it could be possible, because you’re right, it’s too early to have kids and having a monetary plan to prepare is a better idea–”

You were glad that Taehyung was interested in finances when it came to having children but he sure picked a weird ass time to agree with your sensibilities.

“–but I love having sex with you, so I was telling Jimin I haven’t been in raw yet and I completely understand that you prefer condoms over hormones since that might affect your mental state and I don’t like the idea of only you doing something like that to yourself anyway, it doesn’t seem fair–”

You were still processing the fact that Taehyung had told Jimin he hadn’t been in raw. What the fuck?! At least he loved having sex with you. You were staring at Taehyung slack-jawed, but he was scrunching up his face, trying to remember the rest of the conversation.

“–and Jimin mentioned, ‘hey, at least you can do it when she’s on her period, it’ll add more lubrication and it might even be better for her,’ so I was wondering if we could try it, if you’re interested.”

Silence.

You still hadn’t picked your jaw off the floor.

Taehyung opened his eyes and smiled at you. “Hm? What do you think?”

Okay, you very much enjoyed Taehyung’s eager, boxy smile, so that unfroze you, but you still blurted out your next question in sheer shock.

“Why did you tell Jimin you’ve never been in raw?!”

He blinked, tilting his head. “It just came up.”

You looked around, expecting Jimin to pop out and tell you you’ve been pranked. He did not.

“…. H-How…? Actually, don’t tell me, I’m going choose ignorance…” you mumbled, now taking another long sip of your Thai tea, but more like a swig and wishing it was forty-percent alcohol.

“But what do you think though?” Taehyung persisted, leaning down with his tilted head to try and catch your eye. “Do you wanna try? It might be nice!”

You looked down.

Someone was thinking about it for sure.

You looked back up.

Taehyung smiled at you innocently with a massive tent in his pants.

You stared into those big brown eyes and sighed.

“Ah… probably not. It’s going to be so messy and dirty and cleaning up is going to be such a bitch… I’m sorry, Tae, but I don’t think…”

-

“So…”

You stood under the showerhead, your hair wet and sticking to your forehead.

“So.”

Hey, in your defense, you were also curious.

Taehyung chewed on his lip, watching you inquiringly. “Hey, we don’t have to. I was being kinda pushy… but…”

You scratched your head, moving your wet hair out of your eyes. “Ah, it’s okay, I understand, I just… it feels wrong, you know? Aren’t you grossed out?”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Mmm, at first? But the more I think about it, the more I think, well, isn’t it natural? And you have to deal with it every month for many, many years, right? Plus, when we have children, they’re going to come out of you slightly, erm…” He made a little bit of a face but shook his head, spraying water everywhere from his dark wet hair. “Anyway, it’s not too bad. We’re in the shower. You like it when we do stuff in the shower,” Taehyung added brightly.

You contained your laughter, giving him a hopeless smile. “Why are you acting so weird?”

Now Taehyung turned red, his deep tan skin flushing, eyes shifting from side to side. “Um…”

You tilted your head.

He shot you a quick glance and mumbled under his breath.

“Idon’tknowhowlongI’mgonnalastIalreadydon’tlastthatlong.”

“What?”

He chewed on his lip.

“Nothing.”

“Oh.”

You reached up and pushed your hair back, swimsuit-supermodel style, and now Taehyung was doing more than glancing, he was observing very closely and very intently under wet strands of dark brown hair, curling around his strong features and moody brown eyes, his lips parting slightly, probably unnoticed on his part.

Looking like a fish wasn’t exactly an image Taehyung himself considered sexy.

Secretly, you enjoyed it because it meant he wasn’t conscious of what he looked like and was too distracted by your actions and your body to do so.

You smiled. “Why were you talking to Jimin about something like that anyway?”

Taehyung stiffened as you neared, biting his lip. “Ah, well…” He frowned slightly. “You’re so good at certain… things… It’s kind of frustrating for me… sometimes. I want to be better.”

Now you hesitated. “What are you talking about? Haven’t I taught you a lot of things? And you learn quickly and are amazing once you get the hang of it.”

His lips twisted into a small pout.

“For once, I’d like to teach you something.” He let out a small puff. “Or at least suggest something you’ve never heard of before.”

You blinked at him.

“Er… going in raw isn’t exactly a new concept… rather… that’s the original idea of dick and pussy in the first place…”

Taehyung scrunched up his face. “I know that, argh… I just mean… ah…” He trailed off, baritone voice now unsure and unsteady.

You saw he was rapidly losing confidence and you placed a hand on his chin, lightly lifting it with your knuckle. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I want to try it. I just thought you wouldn’t like it, because… I mean… Period blood isn’t sexy per se… And I’m certainly not sexy during that time of the month…” You frowned uneasily, lowering your hand, but now Taehyung raised your chin, smiling at you.

“Don’t be silly. You’re always sexy.”

He leaned in, smile morphing into a smirk.

“Also, your boobs get bigger during that time of month, so I always appreciate that.”

Your eyes widened. “You noticed?”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “Of course, I noticed. I keep close tabs on your boobs.”

“Close tabs? Do you record the size in a notebook or something?”

He chuckled, tapping his temple with his free hand, the other sliding down your chin, tracing the contours of your neck and collarbones. “Mental notes. I remember all the important stuff. Your boobs are on the top of the list.”

Your cut in with your inquiring quips. “My ass? My mouth? My hands? My pussy?”

Taehyung frowned slightly and placed his large hand on your breast, kneading it as if he needed comfort. “Okay, near the top, but don’t make me order them, it’s too difficult.”

You grinned. “That makes me feel better.”

He breathed out in relief. “Whew, that’s good–mphf!”

You seized the moment and pushed him into the wall, pressing your wet body into his, your tongue snaking out and lightly flicking against his lips, taking advantage of his surprise and the beauty of his widened eyes to kiss him firmly, falling into his warmth. It took him a second to compose himself, tipping his head down to take charge of the kiss, squeezing your breast and running his thumb over your hard nipple, but you placed your palms flat on the shower wall and resisted him, dancing your tongue between his lips and not letting him catch it, smirking at the growl he made in frustration.

“We were having a moment,” he muttered.

“Mmm, I know, but I want my moment with him.”

Your fingers ghosted his thigh and he sucked in a breath as your hand closed around his cock, not quite hard yet but getting there, especially after your hand came into contact with it. You feathered kisses on his lips as you stroked his length, nice and slow, his other hand coming up to cup both breasts, panting softly, hot breath on your lips.

“You’re too quick…”

“Can’t waste too much water,” you chuckled. “And…”

You kissed up his jaw, adjusting your body to get a better angle, licking his skin lightly and feeling the vibration and depth of his moan under your tongue and lips, whispering gently into his ear.

“It’s kind of hard to focus when you’re so handsome, Tae.”

He let you have the moment, tipping his head down so your teeth could catch his ear, nipping at it lightly, contrasting with the pace of your hand, firm and intense, shivering at the thickness and the weight in your palm, savoring the taste of his skin, moaning into his ear, long and sensual, everything he liked and more, his head turning, black-brown eyes looking down at you under lashes covered in small droplets, adding to his already ethereal appearance.

“Let me…”

He leaned in, not finishing his sentence, kissing you long and deep and sweet, changing your positions, but you didn’t let go, toying with his tongue. He made a small tch sound of annoyance, shifting his hips, picking up one of your legs.

“Ah, w-wait…”

“Why?” he chuckled. “You don’t wanna wait. I can tell.”

You tried to hide the smirk, but it came out.

Smugness just refused to be hidden.

Taehyung grinned against your lips. “Thought so.”

Your hand was already guiding him. “This isn’t going to be the optimal position for you to cum.”

“Good.”

You raised an eyebrow and he thrust up into your pussy.

You sucked in a breath, relaxing yet still stretched out. It did hurt slightly. Taehyung was sizable after all, in length and girth, but you had practice and muscle memory, and maybe (definitely) a pain kink.

What? It was fun getting stuffed with dick.

Especially when it was Taehyung’s dick.

You? You were fine.

Taehyung?

“Oh, fuck…!”

Er, maybe not?

He had such a cocky expression beforehand but the second he entered you, it instantly changed, sudden tension in his strong features, gasping as he slid in, surprisingly much easier than you expected, perhaps due to the consistency of the slippery blood, almost stopping halfway, but you didn’t let him, firmly grabbing his hips and yanking him towards you, his eyes rolling back, whining your name loudly, the volume and depth reverberating in the bathroom.

“You’re so t-tight… fuck… soft… oh, shit…”

You let him run through every expletive he knew, holding him firmly by his juicy ass, enjoying it too much, but thankfully Taehyung didn’t notice, eyes closed, head thrown back, dark wet hair curling around his cheekbones. He reached up and pushed it away from his face, exhaling hard, slowly opening his eyes, hazy and unfocused.

“Fuck… it feels so fucking good, you have no idea…” he shuddered, twitching inside you and moaning once more, body shaking so he had to plant his hands on the walls of the shower, volume increasing as you pulsed your muscles around his length. There was slight pain from cramps, but not from his cock, and you could ignore the dull ache and focus on the pleasure, slowly moving your hips and biting your lip, feeling the added slickness of your juices mixing with the blood.

You often cursed your period’s arrival, but maybe it was time to reconsider.

Always good to find the silver lining in things.

“Taehyung…”

You rolled your hips and he gasped, thrusting back lightly.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he panted, swallowing hard. “Shit, it feels so fucking good, I can’t t-think…”

“I’ll tell you if it hurts,” you managed to say, pressing your hands into his ass and angling yourself to take him deeper, shoulder blades and head touching the shower wall, sighing in satisfaction.

“Alright, I’m gonna…”

He clenched his jaw, faster, harder, one hand coming down to grab a handful of your ass, you wrapping a leg around his and meeting him in the middle, increasing the depth of each thrust, both of you gasping at the tightness and the wetness, the messy slap and squelch echoing in the bathroom, water raining down on his broad back and spraying onto your chest, clenching around him so he could feel more, his eyelids fluttering, biting his lower lip, tendons on his neck popping out, and you realized he was trying not to cum, trying to hold back, so you gave his stiff length a particularly firm squeeze and Taehyung groaned, barely able to shoot you an incredulous look.

You grinned.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You felt it, his cock twitching and spilling into you, eyes widening at the sensation, not quite as strong as porn seemed to make it, but noticeable for sure, pushing out your juices in a rough sputter, loud and obscene, flinching as Taehyung’s hand quickly moved down, rubbing your clit, making you squirm and twist of his cock, almost falling off but he kept his other hand on your ass, digging his nails into the softness, holding you in place.

“Come on, come on, come on–”

It didn’t take much, you were already turned on by the fucking and then the sensation of being filled up, and you cried out, trying not to move your hips, the high peaking.

“Tae, fuck!”

Hot shivers and burning electricity tearing through your veins, jerking your hips forward and tightening around his cock, harsh throbs racking your body you came, pussy squeezing so hard that you felt his cock stiffen again, swelling and growing inside you as your orgasm roughly roused him back to life, both of you moaning at the sensation, feeling his cum and yours drip down your thigh, hearing it plop thickly onto the bathtub below and wash away, stunning both you and him at the lewd noise.

“Whoa…”

You panted hard, letting out a tense puff as he slid out of you.

“That felt… so fucking good…”

You thought for a moment, catching your breath. The pain your felt was only from cramps, although it seemed to be less now. Was that the ibuprofen? Or the euphoria of orgasm? You paused on consider the differences, chewing on your lip thoughtfully.

“I think for me it’s about the same? You feel very similar with and without a condom.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Not for me, you feel way better, I don’t know how I can go back, the condom is seriously a nerf…” he mumbled.

You shifted your eyes. “You didn’t last… the longest.”

His ears turned red.

“W… Well…”

“My pussy is pretty overpowered, maybe she needs the nerf.”

He sighed, frowning. “True… I still stand by the fact that it physically feels better, but more time to enjoy does even it out…”

You tapped your fist in your other palm. “Oh! Let’s do it from behind.”

He blinked. “Eh?”

But you were already turning around, Taehyung stumbling back, pushing the showerhead out of the way and pointing it towards the wall so he didn’t drown, audibly gasping as you bent over and presented your ass, hands spreading open your pussy with one fluid motion. You turned your head back and grinned.

“Yes?”

“Oh, fuck, yes.”

You felt him position the head against your opening and he pushed in, slow, steady, both you of moaning at the feeling, centimeter by centimeter, this position tighter, more heavenly, giving you added control over your muscles so you could pulsate around him. He inhaled sharply, gripping your hips and forcefully pushing in the rest of the way, bottoming out, balls smacking your clit.

“Stop t-that, fuck…”

You let go of your ass and placed one hand on the edge of the bathtub and the other on the wall.

Then you rocked your hips back.

“Ah, yes, Tae…”

“Are you trying to kill me? Oh, shit!”

You continued and Taehyung had no choice, fiercely grabbing your hips to try and get you to stop, but you were undeterred, so he had to ram his cock into you, exactly what you wanted, the sudden sensation of the head hitting you deeply rendering your speechless, and he had no time to gloat, too driven by lust and pleasure to taunt you even if he wanted to.

“A-ah, it’s good like this too, oh, fuuuck, yes, you always feel so fucking tight…”

He had a good rhythm and pace like this, deep, controlled, fast, making sure to give you the powerful thrusts you liked, loud, audible smacks of hips to ass, rough and wet, and you knew you had his cum inside you now along with yours and the added slickness of your period, and, sure, maybe someone found it gross, but in this second (and lucky all subsequent seconds involving this very behavior that would certainly continue at least once a month) you nor Taehyung gave a single fucking shit, pleasure flaring up your core, the dull ache of cramps forgotten, completely focused on the feeling of his cock entering you over and over, your hand on the wall curling into a fist, hitched breaths and flinching shivers taking over, clenching around him, oh fuck, his rock-hard, thick length plunging into your tight, wet hole, too much, so good, your thighs tensing from the overwhelming proximity of release.

“Taehyung, oh, fuck, you’re so good at f-fucking me…”

You could tell he wasn’t talking on purpose, probably clenching his jaw to last as long as possible, but he wasn’t going to last much longer because you smacked your palm into the tile wall, gasping his name loudly, shot into free-fall.

“Gonna cum, fuck!”

That was all the warning he got as your walls spasmed, brutally massaging his cock and he hissed your name, turning into a half-moan, half-whine as he yanked your hips down and slammed into your pussy, fully sheathing himself all the way up to his balls, his cock jolting and spilling his orgasm into you, his hands on your ass shaking so bad they seemed to be vibrating, gripping tighter and tighter, rolling his hips inside you and moaning, prolonging the euphoric feeling.

“S-So good… ah, yeeeeeees…”

It took him a while to still, breathing loud and hard, holding you in the bent over position, the additional time getting slightly awkward, but you waited it out, his grip finally loosening, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, your pussy too wet and his cock giving up, sliding out, a mess of juices splattering out of you.

Good thing you were in the shower. Easy to clean up.

“It’s… too good…” Taehyung huffed, broad shoulder leaning against the wall to hold himself up, still clinging onto you. “Your pussy does need a nerf, but, fuck, I’m still gonna think about it all the time…”

“Good thing for you that my period lasts at least five days.”

Taehyung looked up to the sky and whispered his gratitude.

“I know you kind of hate it, but I’m still going to thank them.”

“Maybe I have a reason to hate it a little less now. It’s still inconvenient.”

“Yeah, but going in raw…”

Mmm, yeah, that still sounded weird. Oh well.

“You’re not going to tell Jimin, right?”

-

“You let him go in raw?!”

“Taehyung!”

--

masterpost

[celestialking]

It’s Hallo-scream

◇ NSFW~ 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

Finished Writing: October 1, 2021

Warnings: afab, double penetration, squirting, throatfucking

Hi there king! Can I request 27 and 11 with c!Punz and c!Awesamdude with afab reader for the Kinktober Event?

A/n: Its almost 3 am. I wrote this all in an hour after I messed up another request, but I really adore the way I wrote Sam

You hadn't meant to bother Punz while he was busy. Well. Correction. You hadn't meant to bother him and get punished for it. You could barely hear the pure filth that dripped from Punz's tongue as he thrust into your mouth. You looked up at him through your wet lashes, dry tears stained on your face. Punz chuckled.

 "Look so pretty taking my cock," he grunted. 

It was heavy on your tongue, ramming against the back of your throat. There was no doubt it would be bruised and you would be left with no voice. "Should have just waited till I was done with my work angel," he cooed. His hand smoothed through your hair. Punz pulled out tapping his cock on your lips. You stuck your tongue out, catching the precum from the tip. "Hm," Punz hummed thoughtfully. "Should I cum down your throat or on your face?" He seemed to give you a chance to speak. 

You opened your mouth but before you could answer he pushed himself back in. The slick sounds of you swallowing around his cock continued. Your fingers dug into his thigh as he suddenly pushed your head down all the way. You choked, whining. Punz chuckled before continuing to abuse your mouth. 

"I'll cum on your pretty little face another time," he muttered, gripping your hair tighter. 

"Mouth is too good for me not to-" Punz groaned cumming down your throat. 

You swallowed around him trying not to spill any. Punz slowly pulled his cock out. He was about to tuck himself back in his pants when his front door suddenly opened. The warden stepped through not noticing the scene before him. 

"Punz, I was wondering . . . If . . . Um-" once his eyes landed upon the two of you his sentence died off. 

It was obvious what had happened. 

Your hair was a mess, slick covered your chin, and Punz's dick was still leaking a few spurts of cum. What was even more obvious however was the bulge in Sam's pants. "C'mon in Sam," Punz said after you both gave each other an agreeing look. Even as the warden stumbled over an excuse to leave he still entered the threshold, shutting the door behind him. 

"Angel go get our guest comfortable okay," you moved off your knees grabbing Sam's hand. He seemed a little hesitant but softened once you started leading him to your bedroom. 

You began helping him undress just as Punz walked through the door. "Not yet," he said watching your fingertips graze Sam's boxers, his last piece of clothing. "If you want to leave Sam it's fine," you whispered. Sam's eyes flickered between you and Punz, then the hybrid shook his head. 

"No, I want to stay," Punz's lips curled into a smile. 

"Good. Then lay down," 

Sam slowly moved onto the bed on his back. He seemed unsure of his purpose until Punz spoke again. "Go on angel, let him get a taste. Show Sam how much you like your throat fucked," he glanced down at you watching you remove your clothing. It was slow and sensual, and yet oddly comforting. It put him at ease. You climbed onto the bed, up his body gently smoothing your hands up as you went. You leaned down running your fingers through his green hair. Your nails lightly scratched his scalp eliciting pleasure-filled purrs from him. 

"One last time, are you sure?" You asked between soft kisses on his forehead down to his cheek. 

"I'm sure," Sam murmured, his eyes slowly fluttered shut during your gentle touches. They opened however as you pulled back. His finger gripped your thighs as you sat over his face. Sam's tongue hesitantly flicked against your clit drawing a soft surprised gasp from you. Once he got a real taste of you, it's like something snapped. You cried out, grasping Sam's hair as he furiously ate you out. 

"S-sam," you whimpered, hips accidently bucking against his face. 

You repeated his name, crying it out. Sam was addicted to the way his name rolled off your tongue. He had to hear it more. Sam continued with the drive to hear your scream his name. He suckled around your clit, enjoying the noises that he caused. 

Punz had been just watching in the background, slowly stripping his clothes and gathering some lube. He had a fun idea for tonight. Punz watched your form tremble, you would be cumming soon. Sam had come to the same realization. Although you couldn't hear his thoughts he was begging for you to scream his name. As if you had heard him you did. Your moan echoed in the small room, cumming on his tongue. 

Sam eagerly cleaned you up. He was a bit disappointed when you pulled away, he had been hoping to continue. You shifted further down his body, removing yourself from him. Sam started to move off the bed but was pushed back down by you and Punz. You started pulling down his boxers. He hissed at the feeling of your warm hand on his sensitive cock. 

"Sam," 

Punz's tone was serious. 

"Sam. Relax, let us do the work," 

Sam sighed doing as he said. He couldn't help the whimper that bubbled in his throat when your lips wrapped around him. You took him deep a few times before pulling off. 

"I have a plan for tonight, I hope you both are ready," 

Sam was not ready. He groaned as you sunk down on his cock. You whimpered, he was much bigger than you thought. 

Sam gripped your hips tightly, fucking up into you. He was fucking you open upon his cock and for a moment you had forgotten about Punz. Just for a moment though. Sam felt a hand push his hips down at the same moment you felt a hand against your lower back. Punz pushed your chest down against Sam. 

You whimpered feeling the tip of his cock press against your already filed hole. Slowly he pushed in. You whined digging your nails into Sam's shoulders, it was hard enough to leave marks. Sam hissed both at the pain of your nails and the pleasure of Punz's cock sliding into you next to his cock.  You had become impossibly tight around them. You practically went limp as Punz waited for you to adjust. You were so full, both cocks stretching you to your absolute limit. 

"Fuck angel, doing so good," Punz groaned rubbing your thighs with his thumbs. Then he started moving. It was gentle at first, rocking into you, filling you just right. Once you could handle it however, Punz slammed into you. 

You whimpered and moaned into Sam's chest. You were being absolutely destroyed. Sam's thrusts were considerably slower, but with his cock pressed up against every single sensitive nerve you could barely think straight. You could feel yourself shaking, clenching around them as tightly you could. 

"Go ahead and cum," Punz purred. 

He had to admit he wasn't that far behind. Fucking you was heaven, but with the extra friction from Sam he was surprised he didn't lose it earlier. You squirted around them, crying their names. That was single handedly the hottest thing Sam had ever seen. He lifted your face pressing a kiss against your lips as he filled you with his cum. 

You moaned into the kiss, tongues swirling with each other. You could faintly taste yourself from earlier on his lips. Punz grunted cumming deeply inside you. He practically collapsed on your back. Honestly none of you wanted to move. You were too warm and inviting to them, and you were too exhausted from them. 

"Okay, cmon, bath, both of you," Punz demanded, pulling out. 

He paused for a second watching Sam pull out. Your cunt sensitive and dripping with cum. He practically whined. Maybe you would be down for another round in the bathroom because that was one sight not leaving his mind anytime soon.

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

[qierxing]

Obligations

Yan! Zhongli x Reader

Word Count: 2,837

How long can a man talk before he runs out of air?

Scratch that. How long can this man talk before you decide to strangle him?

"...as such, the rivers, plains, and mountains that are said to have been the remains of what is left of the dead gods remains…."

The intonation of Mr. Zhongli's voice nearly puts you to sleep at the ornate dining table, and if it weren't for the fact that you were at an esteemed establishment (even if you two were in a private room), you surely would've face planted and fallen asleep right there on the mahogany wood. But you don't, because it would be an insult to the very man (and the food) who invited you on this outing.

Mr. Zhongli is a respectable man and apparently, a good friend in your family's circles. Even though you've never met the man till now, even you're aware of his shining reputation; aunties giggling on how he's so charming and polite, cousins admiring his knowledge and strength, and other relatives likewise praising him to high Celestia and above.

And he is, you suppose, very handsome. His face is beautiful; high, defined cheekbones, molten amber eyes that glow warmly, pretty curved pink lips and nose to match. A good face, your auntie would say if she was here. An auspicious face.

“And that is how the geography of Liyue came to be...”

You're sure anyone in your position would be swooning over how his voice flowed like the trickling rivers that ran through Guili plains, but you just wished he would shut up at some point. Not even the delicious spread of food at the glass carousel wheel could distract from his tirade, and that was saying something.

Speaking of, why did he order so much food for only the two of you?

'In Liyue, you can always eat till you drop!' A saying that always echoed among the locals, and still holds true today. But even then, the intricately painted línglóng porcelain holding the remnants of steamed egg soup, roasted duck, squirrel fish, and more and more food, are way too excessive, even if he wanted to impress you.

You idly push around the Tianshu meat on your plate as he continues to drone on, wondering when you can politely excuse yourself without being rude.

-

"So, how was the dinner?" You internally groan as your mom's barely concealed excitement in her voice shows.

"Mama, we just sat there and talked." Well, Zhongli was the one doing most of the talking. But you weren't about to say that, not when you know a lecture awaits that answer.

"Isn't he a very handsome man?" Your mother's eyes gleam dangerously and a resigned sigh leaves your lips as she barrels on confidently. "Doesn't he seem like the perfect husband?!"

"Mama, it's ten in the morning…" What you wouldn’t give to eat your congee in peace.

"He is a respectable man, and quite knowledgeable to boot."

"Not you too, Baba!"

Your father merely chuckles as he continues reading the daily newspaper, and you roll your eyes as he continues chuckling behind the printed pages. Your mother swats at him to finish his porridge, turning to you with a frown on her wrinkled face. You brace yourself, knowing exactly what is coming next.

"[First Name], you're already of marriageable age, you should be looking for your future spouse! Your parents are growing old and when we die-"

"I will be perfectly fine without a husband." You cut her off, rubbing at your forehead. It was too early in the morning for this talk.

"Aiya, I don't want our only child to be by themselves! We will never know peace once we pass away, so much worry-"

You tune the rest of the lecture out, not even having the energy to refute her worries.

When you leave the house to take a walk, you meet the infamous Mr. Zhongli again.

"What a coincidence, I am also taking a walk to clear the mind. Would you perhaps like to join me?" And trapped by societal politeness, and the fact that this man did order you a three course meal the previous night, you agree.

So it's to your surprise that he does not immediately initiate dialogue as the both of you stroll leisurely through the stone gardens in Yunjin terrace, and a comfortable silence falls.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind." You turn to meet his gaze, and then away. Your frustration burns at you in the remainder of the morning's argument, but it dissipates at his concerned face. It is not his fault, you reason, that your mother wants you to court him for a possibility. For fortune. Despite the man's shortcomings, he is nothing but a gentleman.

"I don't want to pry but...I have heard that talking about your thoughts might ease your mind?"

You pause for a long time, breathing out your nose as you close your eyes.

"My parents want me to marry you." You've never been one to mince words, much to your mother's dismay at trying to teach you etiquette. "They think that you're a good match. And they're paranoid about me becoming a spinster."

There's silence for a moment and you open your eyes to not a face of disgust or shock, but rather one of musing.

"And you, [First Name]? What do you think?"

You turn your gaze to the water.

"Honestly? I don't know. I don't know you well enough to make that judgement. I know my parents are worried, but I don't want to get married for the sake of not being alone. I think it's rather selfish, to wish that solely for your partner."

The words tumble out of your mouth, one after another and you wonder how it is that it's easier to confess this to an acquaintance than your own parents.

"I was under the impression that people often like to pursue lasting romance in their lives. It's interesting to see this is not always true." Zhongli hums, hand coming to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

"Perhaps? I don't know. I've always been content with my friends." Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. "Who knows? Maybe I have yet to meet the right person."

Zhongli hums again in response, seemingly in deep thought with a small frown pulling at his lips. A silence falls once again, and an awkward atmosphere falls upon the both of you.

"Oh yes, I never did thank you for the delicious dinner last night." You note offhandedly, half distracted by the swimming carp in the clear pond water. The water trails are hypnotic, and they help take your mind off the stressful morning you had.

"It was nothing. For my friend's precious child, that was the least I could do." He modestly replies, and you deadpan. It was nothing? A three course meal at Xinyue Pavillion, nothing? You know that squirrel fish did not have a low price tag.

"Regardless, I'm very thankful for your generosity." After all, not many tolerated your blunt, forthright personality, least of all the potential suitors your mother always brought before you. The memory makes you feel guilty at the irritation you had back then at the dinner. "The next time, I insist we have dinner at Wanmin--I've heard their black back perch stew is to die for. My treat."

He hums, and turns to you with a heartbreaking smile, a far cry from his previous countenance. "Is that a promise?"

You raise your eyebrow, "What are you, Morax? Yes, it's a promise, unless you hate fish, I guess."

His amused chuckles are soft but light a warm hearth in your heart.

-

Your mother is growing more daring than you remember.

She shoves you out the door as if you're some kind of fancy wrapped gift to offer to Mr. Zhongli, and there's a manic glee in her eyes as she eyes you and him standing together like a couple.

"[First Name] has been looking forward to this, haven't you, sweetie?"

The Liyuen hanfu she forced you into were a different cut than the modern cheongsam dresses of the current trends. Archaic, if you dare call it that. While some traditionalists still donned hanfu, it was not as common to see it in the streets. When she was shoving you in the under robes, she muttered about how it was something passed down in the family. Which explained a lot. These days, hanfu like this were something of a rich antiquity.

You sigh deeply, tugging your translucent pibo around you tighter as you decide to humor her, if only to get her to stop embarrassing yourselves and leave faster.

"Yes, quite."

Zhongli hums, and when you turn to face him, you're almost unnerved at how his eyes sharpen and scan over you, pupils slit like a dragon's. The moment is gone in a flash and he merely smiles at you gently before taking your hand in his gloved one.

"In that case, shall we get going?"

The nightlife of Liyue is in full swing and Zhongli tugs you closer, and there's something intimate in the way he presses you firmly into his side, the warmth he exudes sending pleasurable tingles down your body.

"Do forgive me for being so bold, [First Name]," He addresses you so tenderly, that you blush when you look back up from your joined hands, "You look absolutely radiant tonight."

How is it this man manages to say such an embarrassing thing so smoothly? What is his secret? He doesn’t seem like the playboys that often loiter around the downtown area of the harbor. You look away, unable to meet his eyes that reflect the lanterns and make his pupils glow.

"T-Thank you, Zhongli, you're too kind."

His eyes never seem to leave you, even when taking in the lovely scenery of Liyue at night. For the bright lanterns glitter and glow on the ocean waves, but his own pupils are glued to your being when you look in your peripheral.

“Is there something on my face?” Tearing your eyes away from the street in front of you, you turn to meet his gaze straight on.

He merely smiles.

“No.” He pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture innocuous, but leaving a burning trail where his finger tips touch your skin. “I believe we have arrived.”

Thankfully you can excuse the burning in your cheeks and neck away with the spices that the Li cuisine favors. If anyone asks, it was the black back parch stew making you look flushed and out of sorts. Never mind the fact that Chef Mao looks quite amused at the fact you’re sputtering in response to his cheeky questions about you showing up with a man to your favored restaurant.

When you look up from checking to make sure your hanfu didn’t get any stains, Zhongli is uncorking a white bottle and pouring it into your cups. At your questioning look, he replies, “Dàqūjiǔ. The Li technique ferments wheat for about two to three months. This one in particular, has a fine aroma after being fermented for a while.”

“Hoh…” You chuckle at his explanation, “You really do know everything.”

“Hardly. I cannot say I know as much as the regular scholar…nonetheless, to good fortune!”

Echoing his cheer, you raise your cup and drink.

The alcohol burns your throat, and you’re reminded of your low alcohol tolerance. Yet, your fellow friend refills your cup just as easily, and who are you to refuse him? By the time you’re on your fourth cup, your world is spinning and you’ve developed a headache.

“Ahaha…wow...everything...is...moving…” You slur incomprehensibly and slump onto the bamboo table.

“Oh dear, we best get you back. In this condition, you’re too vulnerable.”

“No way...if I go back with you...my mom….she won’t let me…!” You raise your head from the cool table, but the effort of doing that makes you groan.

Zhongli all too easily picks you up bridal style, and after bidding goodbye to Chef Mao with a hefty bag of mora, he walks down the now empty streets of Liyue.

“Won’t let you what, dear heart?” He hums, stroking your face gently with the pad of his thumb.

“Won’t let me...let...us...ugh…”

“[First Name], do you like me?”

“Mmh...yeah…” Is all he gets, but the stilted, jagged answer is enough for him. The content smile that breaks his face belies the haunting glow of his molten eyes.

-

When you step out of the door of your bedroom, you're accosted by your sobbing mother.

"Ma-Mama?! What's the matter?" You frantically ask, pushing at her shoulders.

"Oh my sweet child, oh I'm so happy for you! When were you going to tell me, you brat?!"

"Tell you what?!"

"That you're marrying Zhongli, sweetie! Oh, this is such a momentous occasion--"

You're too shell shocked that you do not hear her next words. What? Marry? Zhongli? What on Teyvat was going on--

"--Hurry up, he's waiting for you in the living room!" You're snapped out of your daze when you're ushered hastily into the room, casual robes and all, right in front of the very person you had so many questions for.

The door shutting behind you does not muffle the excited chatter from your parents and you wince when you hear your mother excitedly bantering with your father. Turning and meeting an intense gaze, you feel like you’ve stepped into an arena with a monster.

"Zhongli, why are my parents under the impression we're marrying?"

His golden eyes crinkle in delight at your blunt words, "Because we are, my dear heart."

D-Dear heart?!

"I don't understand."

"What is there not to understand?" You step back as he rises from the cozy armchair he was given. It only just occurs to you how ridiculously tall this man is, and he towers over you, like a mountain.

"I believe we share a mutual attraction. After all, last night only proved it." He leans over and you flinch as he gently cups your face with a small smile.

"We've only known each other for a couple days!" You protest, leaning your face out of his hands. His smile dips into a displeased frown, hands falling to his sides.

"Why need more time to prove what is already there?" He tilts his head. “If this is a matter about your dowry, I’m sure I can help--”

“This isn’t about mora! Zhongli, this is moving way too fast--”

“Is that so? If I’m correct, I believe that your family’s come upon some hard times, no?” And you’re left breathless, struck silent. “Not down to the pits, but just one little slip and...well, your father’s business is already taking loans, isn’t it?”

Your teeth are grinding so hard against each other to the point where it echoes in your head.

“Marry me, [First Name], and you won’t have to worry about any of that. After all, I’ve always had enough good fortune to share. Are you so willing to crush your parent’s hopes and dreams for their child?”

“I-” Your mother’s tears on her weathered face come to mind, wrinkles from stress deeply indented in her skin. Your father, weary, veiny hands covered in scars from hard manual labor, shoulders slumped from his strength sapping. And you realize with a bone chilling fear that this man, this man was threatening to destroy the very foundation of your life.

He smiles upon seeing your uncertain visage, gritted teeth, clenched fists and trembling body.

"You'll look beautiful in red and gold."

-

How numb you feel!

Having to sit there while being dressed, being fawned over by your cousins, cried over by your mother and aunties, and your father and uncles chuckling over your good fortune. All the while, you cannot bring yourself to bring even the fakest smile to your face, only being able to muster up a sheepish smile, but it is of no concern, as everyone seems to mistake it for a shy front for a person about to marry their true love.

At least that’s how your mother is spinning it to your giggling aunties. And even when the festivities are over, you know that this is not the end.

Bare fingers trace your cheeks and lift your veil as a chaste kiss is placed on your lips.

This was supposed to be a day of joy.

Said fingers begin to trail down your body, and more sobs begin to shake your body. When you think about it, this might be the first time you felt his skin touch your own. Zhongli has always dressed conservatively, even covering his hands with his gloves. Thinking about it longer makes your skin crawl.

This was supposed to be--

Zhongli hums appreciatively into your collarbone as he slips your wedding garb off your shoulders, your world collapses and dims, with only a haunting amber light as your guide.

[esamastation]

Breath of the Wild snippet

Link is bored. It's a little startling how easy it's to see – how easy he's to read these days. Where before, hundred years ago, he'd been as unreadable as a brick wall, a look of serious determination as though permanently etched to his face, now he's an open book, covers flung wide. The serious frown still makes an appearance, of course, it's his default expression, Link's face simply rests in a way that makes him seem as though he's almost scowling, but now, should an emotion cross his mind… he does nothing to hide it. 

Like now, as his attention strays and his eyes wander and every so often he smothers a sigh or a yawn or a longing look directed at the door. It's in part painfully and in part endearingly clear how little attention he's paying to their meeting, and how much he wishes he could be elsewhere.

Zelda smothers a smile and then realises she's allowed herself to be distracted, and quickly turns her attention back to the meeting taking place in Impa's house.

"... a little difficult to test," Purah is saying. She's sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor, her seat cushion abandoned and papers flung about her – most of them about her anti-aging rune. "I can't even promise the test subject will survive the process, never mind that it will work even fifty percent of the time... so finding people to volunteer has been an issue."

"What, no old folks interested in regaining their misspent youth?" Robbie asks with a slight snort, adjusting his goggles. "I'd happily test it, if my work wasn't too important to risk!"

Purah gives him a look. "Well, duh. Most folk are the same," she says and shakes her head. "And besides, the population and age statistics don't exactly trend towards the elderly these days. The average life expectancy of both Hylians and Sheikah both trend about forty years younger than it used to be pre-Calamity. And the only way for people to reliably grow old these days –"

"Is to have a family or other support network, helping them," Impa muses, rubbing at her chin. "Which means they have things too dear to lose, for an uncertain chance."

"Just so," Purah says and folds her little arms, adorable in her seriousness. "I did post queries around Hateno village, of course, but I only had a couple of takers, and they all turned tail when I explained the risks. And we can't improve the chances without further testing. And we can't do further testing without candidates. And we're not likely to get more candidates with the chances being what they are - it's a vicious circle." 

By the door, Link looks ready to nod off. 

Zelda hums, looking at the papers Purah had brought, conflicted. It's incredible work, just as a concept, and Purah hadn't just left it at theory – and the results certainly speak for themselves! Purah is now, what, hundred and twenty, hundred and thirty years old? And she looks as though she is a girl of six, with all that time ahead of her and not behind. If the technology could be made reliable, it would no doubt change the future in ways Zelda can scarcely imagine… for the better, she hopes, for all the people of Hyrule.

But right now, she has more selfish reasons to make enquiries into the rune.

Zelda looks at Impa, sitting on top of a pile of pillows, her weathered, aged face thoughtful. Their eyes meet and Zelda steels her resolve. "Might there be any potential candidates in Kakariko village, Impa?" she asks.

"Hmm. I doubt it. Young Zain, maybe?" Impa muses. "Well, he's not so young. He's in his seventies, he has bad knees and no surviving relatives to support or be supported by. Bit of a sour grape, that one, though. Sceptic. Hard to convince."

"I'm sure if the Lost Princess and the Hero who stopped Ganon ask for it, anyone would be happy to give it a go!" Robbie says, slapping his folded knees. "Especially if they learn what it's all for!"

Zelda smiles, wincing, and looks down. Using her standing for such a thing… sure she'd done things of that nature before, pleading people to join their cause, ages ago… but never with the risks so high, and potential results so uncertain. She'd never liked asking people to risk their lives, for her or otherwise. Even with a cause so important...

"It would be a somewhat awkward thing to ask, though," she muses and looks down. "It is an awkward thing to ask. I'm… I'm sorry to have to ask it of you."

After all this time, all these years, all the service they'd already put in, to ask for so much more of them… but she had to. No one woman could rebuild a kingdom by herself. She needed help, she needed allies – she needed Impa and Robbie and Purah. With such a foundation, Hyrule might yet rise, better than ever, but for that to ever happen… Impa and Robbie needed to go through what Purah already had, and extend their already prodigiously long lives even further. They all deserved their quiet retirement, after all the effort they'd put in, but for Hyrule, Zelda would make this cruel request.

"Ha!" Robbie says, striking a pose. "Like I wouldn't do this without being asked! As soon as Purah can improve the odds – no, as soon as we can improve the odds –"

"What's that, you old coot, what do you mean by we?" Purah depends, bouncing to her feet. "If you think I will let you ever into my lab, mister, you're sorely mistaken –!"

"If we work together, combine the efforts of Akkala and Hateno tech labs, we're sure to succeed! With Cherry's incredible computing power and your Stone –"

"Your creepy ancient furnace is getting nowhere near my Guidance Stone!"

Link startles awake at the noise they're making and Zelda smothers a giggle while Impa sighs.

"I will ask Paya to check in on Zain, maybe he will be interested," Impa says and shakes her head. "But it's still a small test study, with only two subjects. I'm sorry, Zelda – as much as I wish to do this, I am with Robbie on this. The chances are too low and I have too much to lose, right now. Paya is nowhere near ready to take over for me here. There needs to be more candidate's, first, and I don't know where we can get them. But," she hums and looks away. "There might be someone who does."

Link yawns and then freezes, finding all of them staring at him. Then, clearly baffled, he points at himself quizzically, and Zelda offers him a smile.

Impa chuckles. "You've been all over Hyrule now, Link – you've traveled farther than probably anyone has in a hundred years. Better than anyone, you know the state of her people. Do you think there is anyone out there who might be interested in Purah's study – in regaining their youth, even at a risk?"

Link scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully and then takes out the Sheikah Slate, opening the map with an easy, well practiced wipe of his fingers over the screen. Zelda leans in, once more amazed – and a little jealous – of how far he'd gotten with it, how full of markers the map is. Hundred years ago, she'd estimated that there might be as many as a dozen sites of ancient Sheikah technology all over Hyrule. Link had discovered over a hundred. They now glow on his map, like glittering blue gems, the Towers and Shrines he'd seen and mastered.

Link zooms in on the map and then puts down three other markers. One in Zora's domain, one in Gerudo Town and last in Lurelin Village. Turning the slate around, he shows the map to everyone.

"Of course," Zelda breathes in realisation. "The Guardians never reached so far, so their populations were never so scattered or scarred. In Zora's domain, in Gerudo Town and in Lurelin, people can grow old peacefully, without fear of attack."

Link makes a face and a wobbling gesture with his hand and then shrugs. Zelda smiles, sadly. "Aside from monsters and other disasters and misfortunes, of course," she agrees. "But without fear of attacks by Guardians, they were allowed to prosper."

"Not the Rito, though?" Robbie asks, his goggles whirting and shifting like the eyes of a gecko as he looks between the map, Link and Zelda. "Or the Gorons?"

Link shrugs, rubbing at his neck.

"Gorons age like rocks, Daruk always said," Zelda muses. "And I suppose with Rito it can be difficult to tell their ages. If we send out invitations to the study, we should include them as well – assuming that the treatment by the rune isn't Sheikah exclusive…?"

Purah rocks back and forth on her feet thoughtfully, almost as though she's about to dance. "I… don't know? I calibrated the first version based on my own physiology, so it might be best to stick to Sheikah and Hylians for a start – but I can't see why it couldn't be adjusted. Gerudo are closer in structure to us than Rito and Gorons, or Zora for that matter. Might be best we start there, when we begin making modifications to include everyone."

"So, begin with Lurelin," Robbie says and nods. "How do we do that?"

"We'll make some posters and Link can zip in and out of Lurelin Village to post them," Purah says and strikes a pose. "It's just a snap for the Sheikah Slate."

Impa hums in agreement. "Best we make advertisements for Kakariko and Hateno as well, and perhaps some of the stables," she muses. "You never know who might take us up on it, and getting this technology to work at hundred percent will be a benefit to everyone."

"You're right," Zelda agrees, nodding. "Purah and Robbie, I suppose you two know best what should go on the poster. Can you make it?"

"It'll work much better, with your name under it," Robbie points out.

"We'll write a draft and you can copy it and put your royal touch and seal to it," Purah says and does an excited little dance. "This is so exciting! We'll get so many applicants and my little Guidance Stone will get to do it's thing!"

Zelda offers her a smile, all the while wondering, not for the first time… how much of a royal she even is, at this point. With the castle in ruins and the Kingdom in shambles, with no one to rule it for a hundred years… all that Zelda is now... is a story. The Princess that went to fight Calamity Ganon as the Kingdom fell asunder all around her. Not many even believe it. That might change with this meeting and the following cooperation, especially when they'd begin reaching out further, but right now… 

Princess of nothing indeed.

"So much was lost," Zelda murmurs, carefully resting her hands in her lap to keep herself from wringing them. She shouldn't concentrate on the losses. Not when there's so much to do. "It will be good to build something for a change. To improve things."

"Indeed," Impa says, nodding her head, her heavy hat tilting. "But if Calamity Ganon taught us anything, it is that we should take all due caution."

"Yes. And speaking of which," Zelda says and lifts her eyes to Robbie. "Your research in Akkala – I would very much like to hear more about it. Link showed me the armour and weaponry you made, they're very impressive – how did you manage it?"

Robbie all but launches himself into the story of Akkala Ancient Tech Lab, the research he'd done there, the progress he'd made, enthusiastically recounting the creation of his Ancient Furnace, Cherry. Zelda leans in, allowing herself to be drawn in, and by the door Link settles down with a sigh and begins nodding off again.

-

Hmm hmm. Took me 3 years, but I finally finished botw.

I might continue this one and it might end up a Stargate crossover. Who knows.

[13uswntimagines]

Loose Lips Sink Ships (Soran X Swift!Reader)

Request: The Next Instalment of the Swift!Reader Universe where everyone finds out that the reader is dating Emily and Lindsey. Basically, 5000 words of the reader getting caught in compromising positions, having deep conversations with her sister and teasing some too invasive fans. 

Other Parts of the Swift!Reader Universe

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Taylor considered herself a very perceptive person, especially when it came to you. From the time you were little, she could read you like a book. She knew to look for the tilt of your head when you were curious, or how you scratched the back of your neck when you were nervous.

But this, she had never seen before. Your thumbs twiddled on your thighs, patting out an erratic pattern that didn’t match any of your favorite songs, and your feet were tapping out a completely different beat. You also kept tucking your chin, completely refusing to make eye contact with her. 

It wasn’t just tonight either. It was for the entire week you had been staying with her in her Manhattan apartment. She didn’t know if she could take another three weeks of you sneaking off to the terrace to make phone calls at midnight. 

She sighed, turning away from the stove to lean over the island, taking a long drag from her wine glass and eyeing you carefully. 

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You blinked up at her with owlish eyes. 

“You’re acting weird,” she added with a shrug, turning to whatever she was making on the stove. 

You took a large gulp of your drink and swallowed hard. You didn’t think you had been that obvious, but then again Taylor knew you better than anyone (well, there were two people who probably knew you as well as she did). Soon enough they would be just as good at getting information out of you as Taylor was. 

“I’m just tired. Pre-season and national team duty are kinda kicking my ass,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, praying to god that she would take this excuse. 

She nodded, tapping the spatula on the side of the pot before turning back to you and picking up her glass again. “I’m sure the media pressure isn’t helping that,” 

You shrugged.“Everyone just expects me to be you, and it’s a lot sometimes,” You mumbled, absentmindedly circling your fingers over the rim of your glass. 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. She could tell you weren’t telling her everything, but if this was the route you wanted to take, then she wouldn’t miss a chance to reaffirm you. 

“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” She said softly, reaching across the island to gently grab your hand. 

You finally looked up at your sister, echoing her sad smile, and noting the worried crinkle by her eyes. “It’s not really your fault,” 

She nodded. “I know, but all I can do is tell you how amazing you are as many times as I can,” 

You held her gaze for a few more seconds, her seriousness giving you no reason to doubt her sincerity. 

It didn’t matter what the media, or your family, said about your career. Taylor maintained that you were just as good, simply because you were you. She was your greatest champion and most trusted confidant. 

You nodded, and she squeezed your hand before turning back to the stove. She knew pushing you to talk about what was really bothering you wouldn’t help. You would come to her when you were ready. 

You watched her thoughtfully as she put the final touches on dinner, checking on a tray in the oven and stirring the things on the stove. 

You were comforted by the familiarity of it, but the little voice in the back of your head reminded you that you also enjoyed this position when it was a different blond cooking for you (and the way Lindsey teased her while she cooked). 

The three of you had been together for nearly eight months, and recently you had all decided that maybe it was time to stop hiding. The first step was telling Taylor, but you weren’t really sure how. 

Your heart thumped in your chest at the thought of your two favorite women. Your girlfriends, you reminded yourself. They made you feel so many amazing, and terrifying things you had never felt before. Taylor always sang about those emotions, and you wondered if this was what she was talking about. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked softly, and Taylor paused her stirring on the stove. That was always the cue you used when you wanted to have a serious conversation. When you were nervous about whatever the answer would be. The last time you had asked that you wanted to know if she would be upset if you skipped college in favor of going pro.

Her opinion mattered to you more than anyone else’s. 

“You know you always can,” She said, avoiding looking over her shoulder (towards where she knew you were worrying your lip between your teeth). 

“How did you know you were in love?”  

Taylor paused, a pan halfway out of the oven, at the completely unexpected question. She should have seen this coming, she had seen the way those two looked at you. 

She cleared her throat, straightening and setting the hot pan on some oven mitts on the counter, before turning her full attention to you. She took in how you seemed so hunched in on yourself, your eyes still glued to your glass. 

“Well, She made me feel warm and bubbly like there was a hot spring in my chest. When anything happened, she was the first person I wanted to tell,” 

You blinked up at her, your eyebrows furrowing. “Like you were addicted to her? Like when she smiled, it finally felt like you could breathe?” You rushed out and Taylor let you, giving you to work through your emotions, before she pulled you into a tight hug.

You had a very bad habit of bottling everything up and pretending that you were fine (something she was sure her career choice - and your mother- didn’t necessarily help). 

“Did you feel scared of how much she made you feel?” You leaned into her touch, sighing when she ran her fingers through your hair. 

“In the beginning it did, but then it was freeing when I realized that she would be there to catch me,” Taylor said, kissing the crown of your head. 

You closed your eyes. You didn’t doubt that they would catch you, but the feeling of falling was terrifying. You were in deep and keeping it from your sister was difficult. 

“Dinner looks amazing and I’m starving,” You mumbled, and you felt Taylor sigh. She had gotten a little out of you, but definitely not enough to curve her curiosity. All in good time. 

“Let’s eat,” she said, kissing your hair and standing to make you two plates. She still had 2 weeks to get the rest of the story out of you.

****

You were in absolute heaven. Trapped in between the two warm bodies of your girlfriends, one set of lips moving with your own and another trailing kisses lightly down your neck.

Emily and Lindsey had spent one of their free days (between Adidas and other sponsor commitments) hanging out with you, and you couldn’t be happier. You spent the day exploring the city and checking off a massive list of stereotypical couple things the city had to offer. It had ended in a very romantic dinner at a little pub on the lower east side, and now some amazing kisses in your room at your sister’s apartment. 

Lindsey’s hands slipped under the front of your shirt, her nail scratching lightly up your tummy and ribs as she pressed herself further into your back. You sighed into Emily’s mouth, tilting your head to both give her a better angle on your mouth and give Lindsey more room in your neck. 

“Hm, we’ve gotta stop. Tay will be back soon,” You mumbled when Emily pulled back and turned you so Lindsey got her turn too. 

You felt Emily sit up behind you to get a good look at the clock. “You said we had till 12, it’s only 11:15,” you could hear the smirk in her voice, even as she kissed your ear and made her way down to the patch of skin on your neck she knew drove you wild. 

You bit your lip. It was one thing to ask your sister for relationship advice, and a complete other for her to walk in on it. 

Lindsey gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna stop?”

Emily paused as they both waited for your answer. It was sweet and comforting how they always made sure you felt safe and that you were enthusiastically consenting to whatever you were doing. 

You shook your head and pouted. “No,” 

Lindsey sent you a very indulgent smile, her thumb gently rubbing over your cheeks. “Then less talking, more kissing,” 

You giggled into the kiss, a shiver running down your spine when Emily continued her ministrations in your neck. 

You hummed into the kiss, very much enjoying how their bodies felt pressed into yours. God, it was like you just couldn’t get enough. It was so easy to lose track of time with them. It wasn’t until a loud slam of the door and your sister calling “Y/n, you here?” That you finally pulled away from the women. 

“Shit! You two have to hide,” You squeaked, practically leaping from the bed. You threw Emily’s pants and Lindsey’s shirt towards the women on the bed, who were moving way too slow for your liking. 

“Where?” Emily asked, tripping as she tried to hastily shove her legs inside her pants, while simultaneously glancing around your room in search of a suitable hiding space. 

“I don’t know! Figure it out,” You said over your shoulder, taking a deep breath to hide your panic before you exited the room. 

You carefully closed the door behind you, she would have zero chance of getting any information out of you). 

“Hey kid, how was your day?” Taylor asked from the couch, looking over her wine glass at you. She opened her arms, and you immediately went to burrow into her.

“The best. I went out exploring,” Your entire face brightened (Taylor wondered if it was because you got to experience the city, or from the person, she was sure you experienced it with - ie the person(s?) who had left the hickey’s all down your neck). 

“Where’d you get that shirt?” She asked after a few minutes, pinching the grey sweatshirt (which conveniently had a number 9 and the USWNT logo on it). 

You blinked down at your outfit, your eyes widening, at your outfit, a pair of Emily’s Thorns shorts and Lindsey’s sweater.

“Oh, Umm,” you stuttered, racing to come up with a response when a bang echoed from your room. 

Taylor’s head snapped in the direction of the sound “What was that?”

“Nothing Tay,” You winced at another loud thump followed by several giggles. 

She raised an eyebrow at you and stood to go investigate for herself. She didn’t mind you bringing a significant other home (especially if they made you this happy) but she didn’t want them hiding from her. 

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to go find them for myself?” 

You crossed your arms like a petulant child and pouted. “I also spent the day with Emily and Lindsey,” 

“And?” Taylor asked, slightly confused. She liked the women and she thought you knew she would approve. Hell, she had practically given them the shovel talk already.

You sighed, hunching your shoulders. “They’re hiding in my closet because we were making out when you came home,” 

Taylor giggled at how absolutely pitiful you sounded. She patted your shoulder “Well, I think the closet is a terrible place to hide. How about you get them out here,” 

You nodded and stood to go retrieve the girls, slightly afraid of what Taylor was going to say to them. 

“And y/n,” she said just as you got to your door. 

You paused and turned towards her “Yeah?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m happy that you’re so happy to be dating them,” 

You smiled so wide that your cheeks started to hurt. It felt like a weight was lifted off your chest. No matter what happened going forward, Taylor supported you (even if you were sure she was about to give them one hell of a shovel talk and set up some serious boundaries). 

You nodded and entered your room. Perhaps it was about time that you all came out of the closet. 

******

You weren’t quite sure how you always got yourself into these situations. Maybe it was that you, Em, and Linds barely got to see each other outside of camp during the season, or maybe it was because the three of you were so sickeningly in love that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. 

Whatever it was, you, Emily, and Lindsey couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself (especially after you came out to your sister). 

Even now, with the no girlfriends rule at camp, you found yourself pinned to the elevator wall by Lindsey’s hips, thoroughly enjoying the way Emily’s tongue was exploring your mouth (shivering slightly when Lindsey hit the sensitive spots on her neck) (with no idea how they thought this position was comfortable for them). 

You were so engrossed in your kissing that you didn’t hear the ding of the elevator, or the doors beginning to slide open. 

“Holy shit guys, at least let the girl breathe,” Kelley’s cackling caused all three of you to jump, and Lindsey to inadvertently knock heads with you. 

“Fuck,” Emily hissed, working her way out from between Lindsey’s arms and your chest. 

“Ow,” You mumbled, rubbing your forehead l, as Lindsey used a thumb to lift your chin so she could look at it. “You alright babe,” She asked softly. 

Kelley laughed louder at the mess that was the three of you trying to untangle yourselves from each other, ignoring Alex’s glare (teasing someone while their cheeks were as red as yours were wasn’t something she felt comfortable with). 

“Shut up Kelley,” Emily grumbled, pulling you off the wall so she could hug you from behind. You leaned back into the woman, taking whatever comfort you could. The three of you knew it was time to tell the team, but you hadn’t expected it to happen like this. 

“How long has this been going on?” Alex asked softly after a few minutes. There was no way the three of you could be so comfortable around each other if this was a new thing. 

“Almost a year,” You said, shyly looking up at Lindsey, who placed a very sweet kiss on your cheek while Emily placed the same on your other. 

“Does Taylor know?” Alex asked at the same time Kelley said “I’m gonna need an exact date,”. 

Alex slapped the back of Kelley’s head. “Not the time Kel,”

“Yeah, Taylor knows and is super cool with it,” Lindsey said softly, squeezing your hand. 

Alex tilted her head, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded. 

“Good, because I didn’t want to have to try and keep it from her,” The forward smirked, and you felt more heat in your cheeks. You all promised you would never mention that incident again. 

“She was terrifying last time we saw her mad,” Kelley grumble, rubbing the back of her head. 

“That was because you let Y/n surf in giant waves on her first time out,” Emily snorted, nuzzling her nose into the space behind your ear. Alex smiled softly at the sight of you so relaxed. 

“Are you three going to tell the team?” She asked. 

“You might have to if you are going to continue playing tonsil tennis in the hallways,” Kelley added, only for Alex to slap the back of her head again. 

“We hadn’t really talked about it yet…” You mumbled. Both of your girlfriends squeezed you (Lindsey getting your gains, while Emily tightened the arms she had wrapped around your middle). 

“Well, could you wait like 3 days? I have 20 bucks on you three taking until the middle of camp to come out,” Kelley asked, scratching the back of her neck. You rolled your eyes. Of course, they would have bets on you, but you weren’t about to bend over backward for it. 

“You knew?” Emily screeched. Kelley cackled nodding wildly. 

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Alex laughed. Anyone with eyes could see that you were head over heels for the women and that they were falling just as hard as you were. 

*****

The internet fucking sucked. You knew that and found it relatively easy to ignore the mass chatter of the online world, but then again you had never been a part of such a disgusting report by some shady internet reporter. 

All you had done was gone to lunch with Shawn Mendes, and someone had snapped a picture. The two of you had become good friends after spending so much time together on the 1989 tour. Now some random reporter was commenting on how you had confirmed your new relationship. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were anyone else, but Taylor’s fandom had blown up the small town reporter’s article. 

Now they wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone. 

“We’re not going to respond to it,” You huffed, crossing your arms adamantly in front of your chest, effectively pushing your plate of pancakes away. You squinted at the vets sitting across from you, completely baffled why they thought you would take any other route. 

Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder righted, while Emily leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “Of course not, but wouldn’t it be fun to send the fans on a little goose chase anyway?” 

Your ears perked at that. Taylor’s fans were always so fun to mess with. They made it so easy, particularly because your sister had trained them to always look for clues (that most of the time exist). 

“And we have been talking about wanting to come out,” Lindsey added softly. 

Your expression soured. You didn’t want to do this as a reaction. You wanted it to happen naturally. 

“I don’t wanna do that in response to some asshole who doesn’t understand boundaries,” You pouted. 

“But what if we did it our way?” Lindsey and Emily both asked at the same time. It was scary how in sync they were most of the time. 

“Like get the team involved, tease the fans. At least show them that you don’t play for Mr. Mendes’ team,” Emily shrugged, trying to act like she didn’t care, but you knew she did. 

You couldn’t help but smirk. You did love to mess with the fans. 

“If you do wanna mess with the fans, I have the perfect picture” Tobin chimed in, giving you that little push you needed. 

Emily raised her eyebrows at the woman, ignoring the glares the rest of the vets were sending her way. “Didn’t see you as a prankster Toby,” 

“It’s artsier than anything else…” Tobin grumbled, flipping her phone to show you the photo she was talking about. 

It was of you, Emily and Lindsey during a morning hike the team had taken. You were laughing, while both of their heads were tucked into your neck. You were the only one clearly identifiable, but it was clear you were smitten with whoever you were with. 

“Ooo, I like that one,” You said, suddenly feeling excited. It was bound to send the fans into a frenzy because you couldn’t see who was making you smile so wide. 

Tobin nodded and began typing out the post, before flipping it for you to read and ok. You giggled at the tag line “only those two knuckleheads could get you to smile this wide before your morning coffee”. 

“Good?” Tobin asked, and you nodded enthusiastically. It was perfect, and coming out this way- with the help of your team- felt amazing. 

“I have one too. You guys are too photogenic,” Christen said, pulling up her phone and begging to scroll through her photos (much like the rest of the team began to do). Were you guys really that obvious? No wonder they had bets going. 

*****

Your teammates were having way too much fun. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering how private the women normally were, it must have been nice to get some time sending the fans on a wild goose chase. You were also surprised at how many photos your teammates had taken of you and your girlfriends. And just how many of those photos were perfect for the little game you were playing with the fans. 

You could identify yourself on all of them, but Emily and Lindsey weren’t clear at all. But it was plain to see that you were very in love with whoever was sitting next to you. 

“Did you see Alex’s picture? It's amazing!” You said, wiggling excitedly between your girlfriends. The three of you had taken a break from the team and decided to cuddle while you watched the fans go insane. (It was honestly one of your favorite places to be). 

“Pshhh, no Pinos is totally the best,” Emily snorted. 

You pouted. She nudged your side and placed a very sweet kiss on your pouty lips. 

Alex’s photo of Emily and Lindsey throwing you into the ocean was totally better than the one of you shoving and chasing your girlfriends with birthday cake-covered hands. 

“No, Kelley’s is totally the top picture in the bunch,” Lindsey smirked, nudging your chin with her nose from your other side. 

You blinked up at her and looked at the photo of one of your favorite goal celebrations. You had literally leaped into Emily and Lindsey’s arms, but you were at least 3 feet higher than Lindsey’s head in that picture. 

You bit your lip. It was a very good picture, one of your favorites actually, but there was one that topped them all for you. “They’re all pretty good, but I think I’ve got the best one,” You said softly, pulling out your phone. 

It didn’t take you long to find the picture in question (it also happened to be your lock screen). You were smiling brightly at the camera, the reputation tour stage (lit for the song Dress) clearly behind you, trapped between Emily and Lindsey kissing each of your cheeks. Your girlfriends looked over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of your phone. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Lindsey asked softly. There was no hiding or pretending in that photo. It was open and honest (and a great picture of a fantastic night). 

“Yeah, it’s like speak now or forever hold your peace,” Emily added, and you could practically hear her eyebrow raising. 

“No, but I don’t wanna hide you two,” You shrugged. It was the balance you sister had worked her entire career to achieve. Hiding away meant that there was no commentary about your relationship from people you had never met (loose lips sank ships after all), but it also meant avoiding the little things that you longed to do in public. 

You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready to face the media, but your desire to be with your girlfriends the way you wanted was just so powerful. 

“You know we’ll wait as long as you need us to,” Lindsey said, using her thumb to tilt your chin and look you in the eyes. 

you nodded, your eyes never leaving her concerned blue ones. “I know but, like-. I wanna be able to hold your hand or kiss you and not have to worry who's watching. I want to be able to take you on dates, and not care about if a camera can see us cuddling. I want to be able to post about how great you looked in a game, or for your birthday. I don’t want to hide,” 

During your rant, Emily had wrapped herself around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands flat on your belly (which never failed to calm you down). 

“We know darling, but once this is done, it can’t be undone,” She said softly. 

You threaded your fingers through hers, glancing down to avoid Lindsey’s appraising stare (you never could get anything past them). “I didn’t think you were a Shakespeare fan,” You mumbled. 

“I’m full of surprises,” Emily said, kissing her favorite spot just behind your ear. Lindsey cracked a smile too “we both are”. 

“I know,” You nodded suddenly serious, as you carefully extracted yourself from your girlfriends and began to type up the Instagram post. 

You passed them the phone when you were done, idly twiddling your fingers now that you didn’t have anything in your hands. “I’m gonna do it if you two are alright with it,” 

“We’re fine with whatever you choose, we love you and just want you to be comfortable,” Lindsey and Emily both said, rubbing your back and arm respectively in a comforting motion. 

“I know, and I love you too. Let’s do it,” you said clicking the button and closing your phone. You didn’t need to watch the comments roll in.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning that you would see your sister had also decided to chime in. And you couldn’t keep the smile off your face at her simple caption- love my sister and her girlies. For sure the best squad ever. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 2.5): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Listen, all I have to say is: you better know your numbers.

wc: 1.5k

tw: nsfw (because we’re doing the slap-ass and touchy feely) 

masterlist

You’re guided to a massive tent in the middle of the camp, which is guarded by two men and lit up from the inside out. The General’s large tent is littered with lights and from what you can see thus far- a large bed covered in tousled sheets. This isn’t the marriage bed, is it? you wonder internally, feeling the rough fingers at your back tighten as you’re brought to a halt in front of Geto Suguru, who turns around with Gojo at his side. 

“Kneel, little one.” You eye the man before you with a stern gaze, refusing without words to bend at the knee and submit to him. No one comes to his defense, though, and you watch him shrug his haori off before he rolls his neck and sighs loudly. “Nanami, let her go.” 

Haibara and Gojo both give the General a look of trepidation, but you feel the fingers on your twisted arms loosen completely before they drop by your sides, aching from the unnatural contortion. Geto then turns around, walking past the bed and behind a screen that protects him from view. You look around the room, seeking an avenue of escape, but Gojo and Haibara stand to your right and left respectively; and the one called Nanami is behind you. In front of you is the undressing General behind the screen. You have no options. 

“I would have expected you to at least try to make a run for it,” Geto laughs as he walks out from behind the curtain, bare chested with a simple black umanori to cover his legs. “But you’re a lot smarter than I took you for.” 

A large dragon tattoo dances on his upper right arm, the head wrapping around the crease of his elbow and moving as his arm shifts back and forth in the dim lighting. The rest of him appeared to be unmarked, but his muscles - from the chest down - are enough to catch and keep your attention from then on. Geto’s long black locks flow around his frame, and he clenches his hand into a fist at the sight of you still standing there, holding your fingers against your dress and hoping the long bell sleeves would cover their shaking. 

“Kneel.” The command is met with even more resistance, and you straighten your spine while tilting your chin up. 

“Not in the presence of a murderer,” you reply confidently, and Gojo lets out a low whistle. Geto’s eyes slide to his second-in-command, but he says nothing, raising a hand and making a dismissive motion with his fingers. All of the men depart eagerly, leaving you alone with the man you despise. “Whatever you have planned for me here, you will answer to --”

“To who? The Imperial Court?” Geto wonders, strolling toward you with the calculated precision of a hungry predator and beginning his circle. His onyx eyes roll over you again just like before, devouring your appearance without shame, and you clutch at your body to hide whatever seemed to catch his fancy. “It’s a shame you came all scratched up… I would have liked to be the one to ruin this beautiful gown.” Before you can reply with something witty, you feel two hands clutch at the neck of your dress and instantly rip it down the seams, leaving your backside exposed. You yelp in surprise, clutching at the fabric to save the last shard of modesty you can hold onto. 

But your fingers are no better than flimsy flower stems when he pulls the fabric away from you, letting it fall to the ground in a flourish of pink and green. 

“Stop!” you cry out, but Geto only gives you a derisive snort as you attempt to cover yourself with only two hands. 

Oh, to be a goddess with seven hands.

“You have no shame. I’m afraid I’ll have to give you something to be ashamed of.” He takes a lock of your hair in his hands, examining it thoughtfully. “Discipline is spared only by those who wish to see their rule expire. And you’ll find that I do not wish to lose a shred of power in any respect, little one.” A harsh smack resounds on your ass, and you yelp again, this time in pain. “You’ll get one for every disrespect you’ve shown me so far. Count.” 

You seal your lips. The General shrugs, grabbing an arm and driving you toward the bed harshly. You’re flung onto the gathered sheets, ass up, and both arms are extended above your head - anchored by his large hand on your wrists. 

“Count!” 

“O-one…” you answer meekly.

“Louder, little one; I’m afraid the whole camp cannot hear you,” he whispers low in your ear and you find the will to call out,

“One!” Another smack lands on your ass again, and you gasp in pain, but you don’t count.

“Every time I must remind you to count, you will earn another one.” The word flies from your mouth immediately.

“Two!” 

“That was for breaking Haibara’s nose and for spitting at me,” His hand lands squarely on your right ass cheek, building on the pain from before. 

“Three!”

“For running away.” Smack!

“F-four!” you falter, feeling tears pricking at your eyes. 

“And for daring to refuse to kneel not once,” Smack! “But twice.” 

“Five!” your voice cracks, scratching raw. 

“Finally,” he exhales deeply. “For speaking to me in such an unkind manner, like I did not just save your life from a living hell.” This smack is different, much more unkind than the first five. It has so much force behind it that you jerk forward on the bed, your toes pressing off of the floor. 

“S-six…” Your wrists are released instantly and Geto departs, leaving you alone and naked in an unfamiliar place, with your backside screaming in pain and briny tears coursing down your cheeks.

_______________________________________________________________________

When you awake, only the sound of birds and soft chatter greets you. No General Geto, no harsh smacks on the ass. Just the sound of life as you knew it back at home. The sheets on the bed are tucked around your still-naked figure, and you wonder if you dozed off because of or despite your crying. Either way, someone had come in to tuck you into bed, and had the decency to cover you up. 

But it definitely wasn’t Geto Suguru, a murdering, treasonous tyrant who ran side by side with his white-wolf friend, Gojo Satoru. 

“Lady y/n,” a female voice murmurs in the expanse of the room, and you sit up to look at who spoke. A brown haired woman - who seemed to be about your height - bows respectfully, holding various items in her hands. “Master Geto has sent me to fetch you for a bath.”

And that’s how you found yourself in a smaller section of the large tent, sitting in a steaming hot tub with this young woman attending to you. You remain silent, eyeing her carefully as she touches your arms and legs with the softness of a house servant, her short hair drifting at the bottoms of her earlobes.

“My name is Kaori,” she begins conversing as she scrubs the sole of your foot. “I couldn’t help but notice that you made it out of yesterday's altercation with nothing to show for your dissent.” You groan inwardly, realizing that yes, the camp did hear you get your ass beat last night. “He is not usually so kind.” She places the foot back in the water, running her soft hands over the sole one last time. “But I suspect you already knew that.” 

You refuse to reply, drinking in the sunlight spilling through the open slit of the tent above you. 

“Master Geto is very kind to his most treasured servants.” 

“Am I to be a servant here?” you inquire suddenly, yanking your left foot back into the water. 

“Oh, no,” Kaori shakes her head vehemently. “I’m assuming he has not told you your purpose here.” You shake your head no. “Then I will let him explain.” 

“Can’t you just tell me?” 

“Not without risking my life, no.” Kaori replies. 

“I promise I will not speak to him of it,” you try, but the woman doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Many promises may be exchanged, but I do not know you well enough to rely on your word, my Lady.” And so you sat in silence for the rest of the time she bathed you, only whispering your thanks when she leaves you to dress in a plain kimono with nothing else. 

“Am I to be kept as a concubine?” you wonder aloud, and Kaori turns around, shaking her head one last time. 

“You’ll find Master Geto has no need for such frivolous things.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

When Geto arrives back in his own tent, you’re sitting on the bed and drawing with your finger on the sheets. 

“Come,” he beckons, holding out a hand. “I require you to be by my side while we eat.” 

You look up at him, and find his black eyes are hard and unflinching. Your ass still smarts a little, remembering the last time you denied his request. As you walk toward him cautiously, he murmurs, “That’s it. I’m not going to hurt you.” When you take his hand, he grips it tightly and then adds: 

“Well, I won’t hurt you too much.”

[elizabeethan]

Overboard: 1/1

Emma Swan spends years trying to find her parents, and when she finally does, she gets more than she bargains for

A Silver Hook AU for @the-darkdragonfly

hours of watching Wicked Tuna has ruined me and thus this AU was born. Sorry...

Thank you to @the-darkdragonfly, @donteattheappleshook, and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings

Rated M

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

~~~~

The sun pours through his blinds, assaulting the lids of her eyes as she squeezes them shut. Delicate fingers dance across the expanse of her bare stomach, making her giggle before she even has the wherewithal to stop herself. As sleep leaves her assuredly, she should feel irritated, but she feels nothing but comfort in her bedmates arms. 

 “It’s rude to wake people up,” she chastises, and his answering hum is deep and rumbling against the skin below her ear. “Shouldn’t you have learned your manners by now?”

“Are you making fun of my age?”

 “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she whispers back, giggling as he pokes his tongue against her skin and then nips at it lightly. 

 “That’s good. Because one mustn’t disrespect one's elder.” 

 “And you are quite a bit older than me,” she points out in jest, rolling onto her right side to face him straight on, her smile beaming as the sun lights her golden hair. He distracts himself from their morning banter to run his fingers delicately over her temple, tracing over the shell of her ear as he tucks a wayward strand behind it. 

 “I seem to recall you being a bit more appreciative last night. What was it you said? Something about my extensive practice?”

 Emma hums softly, nuzzling her face into the skin of his palm as she recalls their rather satisfying evening. “It’s true,” she tells him. “With great age comes great experience.” 

 Killian laughs, refusing to let his thoughts of being too old for her taunt him. “I can assure you, I’m not nearly as experienced as you may believe.” 

With a small shrug, Emma wriggles under the thin sheet that covers them until she can sling her legs over his own. “You’ve got a good decade on me. And trust me, you know what you’re doing.” 

Killian falters, holding her cheek with his palm again as he pushes away more thoughts of self doubt. He stops himself from correcting her- fourteen years, love- and chooses instead to lift his head high enough to meet her lips with his. In the six months that he’s known her, he’s been endlessly fascinated by her free spiritedness. And in the four months since she joined him in his bed, hardly giving him much of a choice to deny her of what she so desperately wanted, he’s been unable to go much more than an hour without thoughts of her plaguing his mind. Thoughts of her body and her mind and her most alluring personality. 

 He’s falling for her, of this he is completely certain. 

 She grins against him in response to the groan that escapes his throat, her tongue lightly tracing the lines of his collarbone and making it that much harder for him to consider getting out of bed. “I’ll surely have a mutiny on my hands if you don’t stop now, love.” 

 Humming in question, Emma sits up and gives him a look of disgruntled confusion. “Your crew is going to be mad that you’re getting laid?” 

 With a smirk, one that he tries to fight, he shakes his head and says, “my crew is going to be mad if I miss another day on the water.” 

 Rolling her eyes, she responds, “I suppose I can’t keep you from your livelihood forever,” in concession. 

 He rolls them easily, Emma much lighter in weight than his usual catches as he flips her onto her back and latches his mouth to her neck. “That’s very considerate of you, siren,” he says against her warm flesh. 

 “I told you, I’m not a damn mermaid,” she says, likely rolling her eyes before she lets out a soft sigh. 

 “Aye, but I find myself struggling to believe you as you continue to seduce me with your wicked ways.” 

 Snorting softly, she meets his mouth with her own, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth gently and tracing her tongue along the tip of his own. She lets her hands wander, careful not to get too explorative with the knowledge that he should be getting up soon as she scrapes her fingers down the taute skin of his back. Despite her jokes, she really doesn’t want to keep him from his vessel. She knows his crew relies on their captain to bring them out each day, especially as the season comes to a close and the pressure to catch becomes more and more. But the way he kisses her gives her other ideas all together. 

 “I think one day I’d like to go out with you,” she hums thoughtfully against his mouth, and he stills anxiously. When they first met upon her first coming to town, Killian was almost embarrassed to tell her what he does for a living for fear of her judgment. Her genuine grin as he explained the way his family has been fishing for generations quelled his nerves, but still it felt like his profession wouldn’t be good enough for the likes of her. 

 “It can be quite dangerous,” he tells her instead, wanting not to dwell on the twinge of embarrassment that sits in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her watching on as he battles each and every paycheck he earns. 

 “I’m sure you’ll keep me safe,” she flirts, tenderly stroking her long fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp and smiling softly up at him. The sun catches her eyes again, the emerald reminding him of the warm ocean water stirred up after a rough storm. 

 His smile is sad and awkward as he turns his face from hers, glancing out the window at the horizon. “I’m sure there are better ways for you to pass your time visiting our sleepy little town.”  

 “Killian,” she says more firmly, moving her hands to cup his cheeks and encourage him to look back down at her. “You know I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.” 

 The look in his eyes when they finally meet hers cracks her hardened heart, his anticipation of rejection something she knows all too well. “No one would blame you for heading back to Boston, love.” 

 She shakes her head. “I came here to meet my parents. To get to know them. And while that’s still important to me… they're not the only reason I’m sticking around.” 

 He feels selfish, foolish, as he gazes into her deep, soulful eyes. Of course he knows that Emma has a reason to stay in town, but when she says that he’s a part of that, he becomes consumed with a sense of desperate want. A desire to become all of that for her. An insatiable craving to become everything to her. 

 Of course, he’s never had much of a way with words. Thoughts, that’s a different story. But getting those thoughts out of his mouth and into the air between them is almost impossible. So, rather than express himself to her in the way that any mature adult should be able to, he leans down and captures her lips with his in a kiss that he hopes tells her everything that she deserves to know. 

 “You're going to be late,” she murmurs against him. “And as much as it would be nice to meet your friends, I’d rather not do so while I’m naked in your bed. I have a feeling they’re going to come knocking down your door if you don’t get to the docks.” 

 “Aye,” he agrees. “Hopefully we get lucky today and I can come back in relatively early. Will sometimes loses the plot if we come in empty handed.” 

 She rolls her eyes, prepared to make fun of how painfully British he sounds as he crawls over her to the edge of the bed, giving her a rather distracting view of his ass. He may be quite a few years older than her, but the physical nature of his work, and his devotion to his crew leading to him doing as much work as they do, gives him a physique that she isn’t shy about ogling. 

 “Will you tell me when you get in?” she asks shyly, the two of them playing off of the others insecurities without meaning to. “I mean, you don’t have to. But I’d like to see you--” 

 He cuts her off with his mouth on hers, leaning over her so that the stubble on his chin scratches against hers. “Normally, if we catch something, we bring it to the harbormaster to have it dressed and weighed. Perhaps I can inform you when we’re there? And meet you afterwards?” 

 She smiles up at him, careful not to let his words stall her as she considers their content. Perhaps it should have been obvious by now, that a local fisherman should have to deal with the harbormaster on a fairly regular basis, but the topic has never come up and so it’s stayed far from the front of her mind. “Okay,” she finally chokes out nervously. She’s always been good at hiding the intricacies of how she’s feeling, but given the way his eyes narrow at her, she wonders if she’s losing her touch. “I look forward to it.” 

 “Very good. Perhaps you’d… that is… I wonder if you’d be amenable to--” 

 “Killian.” 

 He clears his throat, standing from the bed and stepping away from the mattress to grab one of his aged knit sweaters. He’s rather old school in his techniques, she’s found, and the old fisherman sweaters that he wears out on his small fishing vessel are no exception. 

 Watching as he wrestles a pair of jeans over his legs, she giggles and sits up, bringing his thin sheet with her to cover her breasts modestly. Finally, while he stands by the door and fascens his watch to his wrist, he asks, “I simply wondered if you’d perhaps be interested in joining me for… a meal.” 

 Emma sits stoically still under his sheets as he fiddles around the room anxiously, refusing to look her way out of embarrassment and fear of rejection. She knows the feeling well, so she sits and waits for his eyes to dart in her direction before she gives him a soft, encouraging smile. “Are you asking me out?” she finally asks, and she watches his throat bob up and down before he turns to face her. 

 Clearing his throat, he says, “ah, I suppose I am.” 

 Really, it’s about bloody time he asks. Each time they’ve been together-- each time they’ve been anywhere near each other-- it’s been with her making the first move. He should be grateful for her willingness to take the leap that they both want to take, but after four months, he figures he’d best put his fears aside and grow a pair already. 

 It’s not that he thinks she’ll say no, although rejection is painful enough. His worry is that she’ll say yes, and eventually realize how much better she could have it. He’s a forty-year-old fisherman, for goodness sake. At only just twenty-six, she could certainly land a man with a more respectable, more lucrative, less deadly job, and that fact isn’t lost on him. It hasn’t been since the moment he first saw her at The Rabbit Hole six months ago. 

 She hums happily, smiling up at him and nodding. “I guess this means you’ll have to come in tonight. Better catch a good one, Captain.” 

 ~~~~

 “Oi, he lives!” Will calls from the dock next to Killian’s small boat, grinning and shoveling a pile of ice into the compartment under the deck. “We were worried you’d forgotten about us.” 

 “No,” Killian replies simply, shaking his head and climbing aboard. He makes his way into the wheelhouse, dropping his bag and turning the engine over. “We’ll need to get fuel before we head out.” 

 “Something you forgot to do last night? Perhaps you were too busy?” Robin asks, winking at his captain. 

 He rolls his eyes rather than responding, turning the engine on and checking the gauges as he listens to his mates making assumptions about his whereabouts. 

 When they finally get out onto the water, they avoid the other boats in the fleet in favor of finding solitude. A lot of the other captains think that Killian has some secret knowledge about the best places to drop anchor, but really, he just listens to his gut and gets lucky most of the time. 

 “So,” Will starts once they’ve put their lines out and chummed the water. “The blonde?”

 Killian glares at his deckhand and friend, unwilling to give him much information about what he gets up to when they’re not at sea. He knows they did a piss poor job of keeping things quiet when they started up… whatever it is that they’ve started up, what with Emma practically jumping him after a few too many flirty comments were exchanged between the two of them. Everyone in the Rabbit Hole saw them that night, Emma’s fingers tightly gripping the lapels of his jacket and his sliding under her shirt and into her hair. Everyone saw them leaving together, too. His desire to hide her away and ensure that no one ever finds out about them is wholly unreachable at this point. He only wishes that he could quell his own fears about the judgment that the townsfolk must be passing on them. Emma is young, Killian is decidedly not. Emma can do better, Killian is batting far out of his league. Emma is an energetic young lady with her whole life and an endless amount of opportunities in front of her, Killian is a mildly successful fisherman. He can’t ever hope to be good enough for her, and the whole town knows it. 

 “Aye, the blonde,” he finally mumbles, wishing he could dive into the waves and never be heard from again. 

 “She’s quite something.” 

 “Aye.” 

 “A few years younger than you, if I had to guess.” 

 He glares to his left as Will continues to reel in some herring to use for bait, catching five at once without even blinking. Their age difference isn’t a secret, and it isn’t difficult to pick up on by simply observing the two of them for a few moments. The wrinkles around Killian’s eyes and the gray peppered throughout his hair and concentrated at his temples makes his age quite obvious. Meanwhile, Emma’s flawless physique and supple skin gives way to her youth, although her maturity is observable as well. One couldn’t possibly guess her to be a day over twenty-eight, and even then, she may seem too young for him. 

 Finally, he agrees, “aye.” 

 “Well, I think they make a lovely couple,” Robin supplies, poking his head out of the wheelhouse. “Sorry sod deserves a bit of happiness, finally.” 

 Rolling his eyes, Killian can’t help but agree with his friend’s sentiment. Despite the awkwardness and the assumptions of others, he can’t deny how happy he’s been since she rolled into town. And he definitely can’t deny how much happier he’s been in the last four months since she went home with him. 

 “I’m not sure she’ll be in town much longer,” Killian finally says after too much silence passes between the three of them, their lines quiet and the ocean seemingly empty below them. 

 “Didn’t she come searching for her parents?” 

 “Aye, she found them when she first arrived. But I can’t imagine her sticking around… I believe she simply wanted to get to know them a bit and then head back to Boston.”

 Will and Robin must read the shift in his mood easily, the obvious disdain for the idea of her leaving Storybrooke and going back to the busy city where she could so easily meet someone worthy of her time. Perhaps he should let her go himself, be the one to make the difficult decision for them so as to not drag things out too long, but he’s a glutton for punishment and can’t possibly consider the idea of being separated from Emma Swan for a second longer than he absolutely has to be. 

 Rather than continuing the topic and torture Killian with thoughts of Emma inevitably leaving him, they change the subject to something equally as painful when Will jokes, “I’m sure her parents love you, aye? That age difference must have gone over well with dear-old-dad.” 

 Killian cringes and shakes his head. “I doubt they even know about me. I certainly don’t know much about them, aside from what she’s told me.”

 “So she talks about that stuff with you?” 

 “Aye.” Will make a face, clearly surprised at his statement, and glances over at Robin suspiciously. “What?” 

 Robin shakes his head, casting another bait line, and says, “Nothing, we both just assumed it was just sex, that’s all.”

 “What do you mean?” he asks curiously. It’s not because this is just sex to him, but because he’s curious about what they seem to think makes it not just sex for Emma. 

 Will laughs lightly, cheering when he brings in another line full of herring. “Mate, if she’s talking about her family, it’s not just sex.” 

 He hums thoughtfully, supposing that must be true. Emma wouldn’t confide in him about her upbringing— and her trauma, and her fears of abandonment— unless she was comfortable with him, would she? She wouldn’t have tried to process her feelings surrounding her adoption if she didn’t trust him, would she? She wouldn’t have agreed to a date with him tonight if some part of her didn’t like him, right? 

 “I love the look on his face when realization strikes,” Will jokes, bumping Killian with his elbow. He looks like he’s about to say more, perhaps another jest, perhaps something that will give Killian more insight into his companionship, but the radar starts marking fish and they each stand still and silent in anticipation. 

 The line starts clicking with the indication that something may be going for the bait, and when the reel begins screaming as the fish in question tries to escape, they jump into action. There’s shouting and running and fierce reeling, and it’s almost enough to get Killian’s mind off of Emma bloody Swan. 

 ~~~~

 Emma tries not to drag her feet as she makes her way down the main dock, the chilled ocean air sending a shiver down her spine despite her borrowing Mary Margaret’s windbreaker. With the season coming to close in a few weeks, the late fall weather sends a damp chill through her bones that she isn’t used to despite growing up in Minnesota. 

 It’s not as if she isn’t excited to see David this evening. She’s been spending time with him and Mary Margaret, and their son Leo as well, fairly regularly since she’s come to town. But things have been awkward to say the least. 

 She didn’t know about her brother when she arrived in Storybrooke. Finding out about him, finding out that he’s just turned eighteen, making them almost eight years apart, hurt a bit. Of course she understands that people change a lot in eight years. But the fact is, her parents had her and gave her away. They had her brother and raised him. It stings. 

 It stings. But it isn’t something any of them can change now. So she puts it behind her, just like Ingrid taught her. 

 If she wasn’t raised by such a soft, caring woman for most of her life, Emma’s certain she would be a different person from who she’s become. She had every chance to build walls as high as the eye can see, but Ingrid broke them down little by little from the day she welcomed Emma into her house when she was eight years old. After being given back by two families in a row, she was seen as broken, as damaged goods, as a stray no one could truly want. But Ingrid saw through her trauma and her bad behavior and welcomed her with open arms. 

 When she became sick, Ingrid gave Emma all of the information she was able to dig up on her parents. It wasn’t much to go on, and Emma initially refused to use any of it for fear of hurting her mother’s feelings. She didn’t want to make Ingrid feel like she was trying to replace her by finding her birth parents. But as Ingrid lay on her deathbed, the ovarian cancer too much for her frail frame to fight any longer, she begged Emma to seek her parents out, telling her that she deserves answers. That no matter the choice they made all those years ago, they deserve to know the beautiful woman they brought into this world. 

 She couldn’t exactly turn her down. So, traumatized and heartbroken, she put all that she had into expanding upon her mother’s research until finally, almost two years later, she found them. 

 David and Mary Margaret Nolan. She found them in a small fishing town off the coast of Maine, well known on the East Coast for their lucrative bluefin tuna fishing season. 

 It wasn’t exactly what she expected. And when she knocked on their door and a gangly teenager answered, she’ll admit to feeling slighted. 

 Okay, perhaps irrationally angry is more accurate. And if her method of coping was to go to the first bar she could find and get completely obliterated, so be it. The handsome man in the soft, cream colored sweater helping her to her room at Granny’s was an added bonus. 

 “Hey, Ems,” David calls from his makeshift desk where he does all of his accounting and paperwork. She’s sat here a few times before, but found herself bored out of her mind in a matter of minutes as she watched him work over his ledgers. 

 “Hi,” she greets back. She’s found that she doesn’t really call them anything. It doesn't feel right to call them mom or dad, because she had a mom. And while David may be her biological father, he isn’t really her dad. So instead, she doesn’t address them as anything. 

 “I’ve got a couple of boats coming in,” he informs her. “Season’s almost over, so the fish are big this time of year. You may get to see some record-breakers.” 

 “Cool,” she smiles, taking a seat on the folding table he sits at all day, cringing as it creaks under her weight. 

 “I think your… I think Mary Margaret is gonna come out tonight too. We were thinking of grabbing dinner. You know, celebrate the weekend, and all that.” 

 With a small grin coloring her features, her heart skips a beat at the thought of the sailor hopefully making his way to shore as they speak. She doesn’t doubt that he’s on his way, but she isn’t sure how happy he’ll be if he comes in empty handed and with an angry crew. “I actually have plans,” she tells him with a blush. 

 “Dinner plans?” 

 “Yep,” she answers with a nod. “A date.” 

 “A date,” David says, his brows drawing close together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Who are you--” 

 He’s interrupted by his wife, her excited voice carrying across the length of the docks as she hurries towards them. “Emma!” she shouts as she gets closer. “Hi, honey!” 

 She tenses slightly at the title, still feeling uncomfortable when she hears words of affection coming from the woman who gave birth to her. She smiles anyway, waving softly and hopping off of the table, letting the woman embrace her briefly before pulling away. “Hi.” 

 “Did your father ask you to dinner? We figured we’d celebrate the weekend starting. Plus, it seems like the fleet did really well this week, doesn't it, David? The buyers are always more generous at the end of the season--” 

 “Emma has plans,” David cuts her off. “A date.” 

 “A date?”

 “A date.” 

 “Do you guys mind?” she asks, only half joking. It’s been hard enough opening up to them and letting them into her heart and her personal life. She does try to not use humor as a way to keep them at a distance, really. 

 Mary Margaret clears her throat, smiling at Emma sweetly and only a bit awkwardly. “Who is your date with, sweetheart?” 

 “Well,” she starts turning to face David, “you might actually know him.” 

 “Oh, hold that thought for just a second, Ems. A boat’s coming in.” 

 She turns to face the water below them, noting the modestly sized vessel floating towards the loading dock. Two crewmen stand outside, grabbing for ropes as they pull themselves against the dock while the captain stands in the wheelhouse, diligently watching as he guides the boat. She smiles at the sight, taking in his ruffled appearance and the fact that he’s changed his sweater, wondering what happened out at sea to make the other one unwearable. 

 “Evening, Dave,” one of his mates calls, waving in their direction once the boat is secured to the dock. “We’ve got two big ones for ya.” 

 David praises him, watching as they open up a small hatch in the floor of the boat and reveal two massive fish. Emma’s never seen anything like it, the tunas taking up the entire space below the main deck. They must be almost twice as long as she is tall. “Think we’ve got a good thousand pounds here,” the other man calls as he wraps a rope around one of the tails. “Hope we can lift it.” 

 Killian trips and stumbles when he sees her, the blush on his cheeks spreading to his ears and down his neck and reminding her of how he looks when he’s about to finish inside her. The thought makes her blush as well as she grins down at him, giving him a small wave. He’s been quiet and shy for as long as she’s known him, but he’s also professional, and his silence and lack of greeting is almost concerning. 

 He climbs off the boat, hoisting himself easily onto the dock as the muscles under his sweater ripple with the effort. Clearing his throat, he finally makes eye contact with her, smiling awkwardly as his blush deepens. “Evening, Miss Swan,” he says sweetly, reminding her of when they met months ago. She’s not sure she likes it. 

 “Hi, Killian,” she responds with a smirk, making his blush deepen and heating him to an uncomfortable temperature in his dampened sweater. The first fish they caught was barely above the length requirement and relatively easy to hoist onto the deck, but the second has to be one of the largest they’ve ever gotten, and it put up one hell of a fight. 

 “You two know each other?” David asks, glancing between him and Emma, and it strikes Killian that she isn’t here waiting for him like he thought. She’s standing by the harbormaster, relatively close to his wife and child, and things start to fall into place in his mind. 

 They’ve talked about her parents briefly, about how they were young when they had her and made the decision to give her up at the persuasion of both of their parents. She told him about how they had a son a few years later and raised him. She just never told him that her father is the bloody harbormaster. 

 “Yeah,” she answers finally, giving David Nolan a smile that Killian recognizes. It’s the same one that David gives him when he catches a big fish; friendly and necessary but not entirely genuine. She doesn’t expand upon how they met, or how they know each other, or the nature of their relationship, and the harbormaster looks at Killian suspiciously as the machinery lifts his second fish onto the dock. 

 David evaluates each fish and offers him a hefty price for the both of them. The second one, the one that gave them such trouble, is over a thousand pounds, just like Will had guessed, so they make out very well after just one days work. Normally, their undeniable success would be enough to erase any negative thought floating around in Killian’s head, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s standing beside the father of the woman he’s sleeping with.

 He tries to be an adult about it, ignoring the awkward air that has settled between them as David’s family watches on happily, but when Emma asks, “are you ready to go, Killian?” everyone’s eyes dart up immediately. 

 Thankfully, the check had already been cut and handed to Killian, because he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t have gotten his hands on it if Emma’s question had come any sooner. He watches as David’s eyes grow twice their normal size, his wife’s mouth falling agape as she turns to stare at Emma in complete shock. 

 “No,” David says immediately, shaking his head in denial and turning to face his daughter. “Absolutely not.” 

 “Excuse me?” Emma asks, raising both brows in challenge and taking a step away from her mother and towards Killian. She sees his eyes widening and darting between the three of them nervously as the exchange becomes more and more tense. 

 The man, only slightly older than Killian, clears his throat and looks at his daughter again before saying, “please tell me you're not dating him.” 

 “How dare you,” she accuses immediately, stepping back once more until she stands beside Killian, his warmth radiating off of him and comforting her just slightly in the wake of her anger. She doesn’t even know why he would say something like that, what would make him feel the need to say that, but she’s quick to become defensive. She knows Killian is a good person, and she feels immediately as if this man has no right to dictate who she dates. 

 “Honey,” Mary Margaret starts, stepping closer to her and placing her hand on her elbow just as Emma pulls away. She looks in Killian’s direction awkwardly and tensely before trying again. “It’s just… he’s a bit older...” 

 “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she says angrily, and notices David stiffening beside his wife. 

 “Emma, please. He just catches fish for half a year. You’re too young to be thinking about settling down with someone who doesn’t have a stable career. Not to mention, he’s almost the same age as me and your mother.” 

 She senses him becoming rigid beside her, his shoulders rising slightly and his jaw clenching in tense discomfort at the accusation. They’ve had this conversation briefly several times, sometimes jokingly and sometimes out of his own insecurities. He’s always seen himself as too old for her-- too old, too common, not good enough-- and the confirmation from her father surely hurts him. 

 Of course, they’ve never talked much about who her parents are. They’ve had their share of conversations about her past and why she’s here, so he knows plenty about the things that she’s been through, but she never felt the need to tell him who they are. She never even put two and two together that he may know her father until this morning. And now she’s hurt him by keeping this from him. 

 With shock and anger, she answers too loudly. “Well, it’s not my fault you guys had me at 17, it is? And are you really judging him for his job? He works hard every day!”

 “Emma,” Killian tries softly, placing his hand on her elbow, but she pulls away in the same way that she had with her mother. 

 “No! They have no right to judge you for what you do for a living. Or us for our age difference. This is completely ridiculous.”

 “It’s alright, love,” he says, resigning to the fact that he’s likely going to lose her. Her parents are right; his job is seasonal and not always as lucrative as he would like, and he’s closer in age to her parents than he is to her. It was bound to end eventually, he tells himself sadly, as she deserves so much more than he’s able to give her. “I’ll go.” 

 “You’re not going anywhere unless you're bringing me with you,” she gripes angrily, grabbing his hand in her own and yanking him away from where her parents are standing. He lets her pull him along, looking back nervously at the harbormaster and his wife as they gape at the two of them. 

 ~~~~

 “How dare they,” she grumbles, slamming his front door harder than he thinks she means to. “I mean, they barely know me, never mind you.” 

 “Emma,” he tries, but she refuses to let him get a word in edgewise as she continues her venting. 

 “It would be one thing if they had actually raised me. If they instilled in me these values that they seem to think puts them on a pedestal. But they gave me away.”

 He guides her gently through his small cottage, the weight of his hand on the small of her back serving as a reminder that he’s here for her. 

 “Emma,” he repeats once they’re sitting and she’s able to hear him. “You know I understand.”

 She does know this. He told her one night, while their legs were entwined and their arms were around one another, about the way his father abandoned him and his brother when he was just a boy. “I know,” she confirms softly. 

 “And you also know that I hate the idea of getting in between you and your family. They’re the reason you’re here in the first place, love.”

 She stares at him for a moment, taking in the meaning of his words and angering when she realizes that he thinks he’s the problem here. 

 “Stop,” she insists suddenly. “If you’re making me consider them my family, then I’m going to consider you my family, too.”

 “Love--”

 “I’ve known you the same amount of time as I have them. And you’ve never once judged me, or let me down, or made me feel… like I’m doing something wrong.”

 His face drops slightly in response to her words as he saddens. It kills him to know that she’s been made to feel this way. “I appreciate hearing that, love. But at the same time… they have a point. I’m closer in age to your parents than I am to you.”

 “Please,” she says, rolling her eyes and pushing his shoulders until he’s lying down and she’s lying across his chest. “You should hear about some of the other guys I’ve dated. You being old is nothing.”

 He pinches her hip in response to her jest and says, “I dare not hear about them, or else I may leave here and start a fight with each of them.”

 “You’re too old to fight.”

 “Aye, that’s right.”

 They lie in comfortable silence, Killian’s tired arms running up and down along her spine until her breathing evens out. It’s either an indication that she’s feeling less angry, or that she’s fallen asleep, but he knows it to be the former when she speaks up. 

 “Do you know that you smell really bad? Like… I mean really bad.”

 “Thank you, darling.”

 “You’re welcome,” she says, and he can hear the sly smile in her voice without needing to see her perfect face. “You know, I could probably help you with that.”

 “Is that so?” he asks in falsified surprise. 

 “Yes,” she nods. “A nice hot shower is just what the doctor ordered.”

 “Oh, are we playing doctor now, Swan?” 

 “Ugh, no, Jones. It isn’t 1950 anymore, old man. Kids don’t play doctor. Now come with me if you want me to soap you up.”

 She yanks him from the couch, guiding him through his small space until they reach the shower. It’s a tight fit, squeezing the both of them inside, but she somehow manages to get on her knees before him and quell his anxieties that he’s not good enough for her. Her mouth is useful when it’s using words to comfort him, and it’s just as useful when she’s using it to worship him until he can finish in the back of her throat. 

 As she stands slowly and salaciously, the warm water trickles down her face and into her hair, dampening the flawless length of her body as she reaches behind him for the body wash. “Does this mean you aren’t going to leave me?” she asks softly as she squeezes some soap into her palm. He can barely stand straight, leaning against the wall of the shower as she begins to lather the soap over the coarse hair on his chest. 

 His thoughts finally return to him and he says, “please tell me you didn’t just give me the best blowjob of my life as a means to convince me.” 

 She snorts, wrapping her arms around his waist and running her hands up and down his back. He knows she’s trying to follow through on her promise to soap him up, but she grabs onto his rear and he isn’t sure if she’s cleansing him correctly. “No,” she responds, pressing her lips to his neck and licking along his racing pulse. “But... did it help persuade you?” 

 He hums, not trusting his own voice and nodding. “It did,” he breathes, then he rights himself and remembers how imperative it is that he get his point across. “Emma, I don't want to leave you. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy if you aren’t by my side. I just… I only want to do what’s best for you.” 

 “You are what’s best for me,” she says, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water. She finally looks up, releasing her lips and tongue from his skin and meeting his eyes with hers. “I never… I mean, I didn't grow up with a family. I know how to get by without my parents. But it’s-- It’s different with you. Ingrid always said that I need to fight for my happiness. I finally understand what she meant now that I’ve met you. I can’t lose you.”

 Her words are so soft, so small, that he could have missed them. If he wasn’t watching the way her lips moved when she spoke, he would have. The way that she’s able to perfectly express how she’s feeling, while also giving words to the way that he feels about her, makes his heart practically jump out of his chest. 

 “Love,” he breathes, his voice gruff and barely audible as he cups her cheek with his palm. “I can’t lose you either.” 

 “You just mean a lot to me,” she whispers. 

 “Aye. You mean more to me than I could put into words.” 

 “Then please don’t leave me,” she mouths. He knows she had the intention to say the words aloud, but it’s as if she isn’t able to. 

 He’s unable to form the words that he so desperately wants to, either, so he leans in close to her and captures her lips between his own, molding their mouths together as if they were made for each other. And she kisses him back in a way that conveys how she feels about him. 

 Her fingers slide through his chest hair, scratching along his skin as they glide up towards his neck. She grips the back of his hair with her fingers, grounding herself through the emotion of the entire evening. It was hard enough on her when she learned her parents disapproved of her lover. Harder still when she found out he was considering leaving her for what he assumed was her own good. Now, she can’t get enough of the soothing comfort that comes from being with him. 

 He reaches behind himself, easily shutting off the flow of the water so that the silence of the room consumes them. The only sounds between them are the weakened, aged fan and the sounds of their heavy breathing. 

 “I’m— I—.” She starts speaking, but cuts herself off in favor of kissing him again. 

 “Aye,” he agrees, and although he doesn’t know what she was going to say exactly, he has a hunch and hopes to any god who may be listening that he’s right.  

 “Take me to bed,” she asks against his mouth. “I need you.” 

 He doesn’t waste a moment; when Emma Swan tells him to take her to bed, he knows he’d better listen. Pushing the curtain aside, he holds it open for her and allows her to step out of the shower, holding onto her elbow in hopes that he’s offering her some semblance of support. It’s entirely unnecessary, though; Emma Swan is the strongest person he’s ever met. She gives him a soft smile in thanks, grabbing his towel off of the hook and using it to dry herself quickly before turning it towards him and tossing it into his hair. She scrubs the towel through the gray and black locks playfully, giggling when she lifts it over his eyes and smiling at him so brightly that he finds it impossible not to grin back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and she leans forward, holding the towel around his head and using it like a hood to pull him into a kiss. 

 What starts as chaste and gentle turns heated and passionate in second, her tongue sliding against his and her hands lighting a trail of fire as they scratch down his back. He picks her up easily, her slender frame much less heavy than the monsters he battled earlier, and carries her bridal style over the threshold of the bathroom and towards the bed they’ve been sharing. The bed in which he hopes to never sleep alone again. 

 He presses her down into the mattress, making her groan into his mouth and wrap her ankles around his hips. She’s desperate to pull him closer to her, to have him inside her until she’s seeing stars behind her eyelids. He never fails to bring her ecstasy, each time they’re together fighting for the title of ‘the best time’. When his fingers find her sensitive and soaked for him, he smirks against her lips and kisses her harder. When he slides into her, making her gasp with the welcome ache as he stretches her, they press their foreheads together and breathe each other in. He rocks into her slowly and gently, exactly as she needs him. He reads her effortlessly and flawlessly, stroking her above where their bodies join until she’s powerless to stop the desperate noises from filling the room. 

 She squeezes her entire body around him as they finish together, and she cries out his name in loving praise as he spills himself into her. He can’t get enough of her, the high of being with her is like a drug from which he will never be fully sated, and he will never stop trying to bring her pleasure and joy and contentment for as long as she allows him to stay by her side. 

 The hum that leaves her throat as they come down together relays exactly how he feels as well. They’re sated for now as they embrace each other, although he knows that his longing for her is only slightly extinguished, only to be fueled again with just the slightest encouragement from her. 

 “That was nice,” she breathes nonchalantly, making him smile softly through hooded eyes as he rolls onto his side to look at her longingly. 

 “That’s one word for it, I suppose,” he concedes, running his hand up and down along the length of her waist. Her eyes flutter shut at the tickling sensation and she leans close to him to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

 “Very excellent? As if I was being fucked by a savant? Is that better?” 

 “No,” he whispers, “I think you’re just making fun of my age again with that one.” 

 With a soft grin, she says, “you’re pretty slick for an old guy.” 

 “Hush.” 

 She snuggles into his chest, resting her head under his chin and kissing against his collarbone before uttering, “a quick nap, and then you’re taking me to dinner.” 

 “Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have.” 

 ~~~~

 There’s an old wives tale, apparently, that tuna are more active during a storm. At least, that’s what Killian told Emma when he left that morning with the sky bright red. She was expecting him to heed the weather advisory and the warnings given by the coast guard that it isn’t safe for small crafts to be out during the oncoming storm, but of course, he’s as stubborn as she is and dedicated to his career and to his crew. They all want to go out and catch fish, so that’s what they do. 

 It’s not like she doesn’t trust his abilities as the captain, because of course she does. And it’s not like she’s naive enough to think that he’s never been out in bad weather before. But they’d just had a heart to heart a few nights ago, and if she loses him to a storm, she’s certain that she’ll lose what’s left of her sanity as well. 

 The fact is, she loves him. She knows she does, and she knows that she has since the moment she met him. She doesn’t care that he’s older than her, or that he works seasonally, or that he considers himself to be not good enough for her. What matters is that he’s the kindest person she’s ever met. He’s the most generous man who’s ever been in her life. She’s never met someone so gentle and caring and utterly perfect, and she feels physically sick at the thought of losing what she has with him. 

 He makes her want to be a better person. He makes her strive for patience and understanding, rather than impulsivity. He makes her rethink her tendency to shut people out before they can hurt her. She’s better for having met him, and she fears what she could become if she loses him to a crashing wave or a sinking ship. 

 After he leaves, after she watches as he sets off into the open ocean, she heads to Granny’s, the wind already strong enough to push her in that direction. She has a room rented out, but she hasn’t been in it in days in favor of staying with Killian, locking themselves away from the world and letting themselves be consumed with one another. She dreads the idea of going to her empty room, the one that isn’t hers and Killian’s, but she’s in need of a good facemask after neglecting her routine for days on end, and she could use a change of clothes that don’t belong to him.

 After showering and, admittedly, taking an unexpected nap, she wakes ready for an order of grilled cheese and onion rings. The bell above the door chimes when she opens it, and Granny gives her a quick yet welcoming smile. “Afternoon,” she calls from behind the counter. “Want a seat with your folks?”

 Emma groans internally as she turns and sees her parents and brother sitting in a booth, each of them giving her a kind smile. She returns it, although hers is much tighter than theirs seem to be, and says, “sure,” in a less-than-convincing tone. 

 “Hi, honey,” Mary Margaret says when Emma approaches them reluctantly, and she tries (and probably fails) to hide her cringe. 

 “Hey.” 

 David slides over towards the wall, offering her the only available seat beside him. “Been a few days, huh? How’s it going?” 

 “Fine,” she shrugs. “I’ve been staying with Killian.” 

 She watches as her parents stiffen, her brother obviously indifferent to her dating life. “That’s… nice,” Mary Margaret forces out, her discomfort so plainly written across her face that Emma has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She didn’t come here to start anything, and she didn’t sit with them because she wanted to argue, but it’s becoming more and more difficult. 

 “Yes, it is nice. Killian is nice. And polite, and compassionate, and perfect in every way. So yes, it’s been a very pleasant few days.” 

 “I’m glad you’ve… I'm glad that you’re happy,” Mary Margaret chokes out. 

 “I am.” 

 They’re silent. Emma’s lunch is delivered to the table and they eat quietly, the only sounds between the four of them the bustle of the diner and the appreciative hum that David gives with each bite of soup. The wind whips outside, rattling the windows violently and blowing over a table on Granny’s patio. Many of the patrons stand, David and Leo included, and hurry outside to right the fallen piece of furniture, and Emma begins to gnaw at the short nail on her left thumb. 

 “It’s bad out there,” she remarks obviously, her leg bouncing up and down in quick, anxious succession. “I hope--” 

 She notes the way Mary Margaret looks out the window with wide eyes, realization setting in as the source of her daughter’s fear becomes obvious. “Emma, is he out there? In this weather?” 

 Emma looks at her mother and, for the first time since they’ve met, finds comfort in her eyes rather than a reason for distrust. “Yes,” she chokes out in a whisper, sucking her lips between her teeth. “He said he’d be fine, but…” 

 Mary Margaret nods in understanding. “It’s kind of bad out there.” Emma nods, too. “I can see why you’re so worried.” 

 “His boat is pretty small,” she explains, her voice shaking. “But he said it’s the best time to catch the fish.” 

 “That’s what your father always says, too,” Mary Margaret responds, reaching across the table and giving Emma’s hand a squeeze. For the first time since she’s met her mother, she doesn't pull away. “I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’s a knowledgeable captain.” 

 “He has been doing this a while,” Emma reasons, mostly with herself. 

 Mary Margaret sighs, giving Emma’s hand one final squeeze before letting go and leaning forward towards her daughter. “Sweetheart,” she starts, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. “I-- I’d like to apologize for the way your father and I reacted the other night. It wasn’t fair of us to judge your… relationship.” 

 Emma looks up into the eyes of the woman who gave birth to her, the woman who gave her away, and sees truth behind them. “It wasn’t,” she agrees. 

 “I can tell now that you truly care for him.” 

 “I do,” she nods. “Very much.” 

 “It’s just that,” she starts slowly, noticing her husband and son reentering the diner. “Well, you’re our little girl. It was surprising to find out that you’ve been seeing someone, never mind someone so much older than you. We just want what’s best for you.” 

 David sits beside Emma again and Leo takes his seat next to his mother, both of them looking as though they realize that they’ve walked into a pretty serious conversation. Emma thinks about holding back with their arrival, especially considering the presence of her brother, but she simply can’t. 

 “No offense or anything, but… I'm not your little girl. I never was. I never got the chance to be. And Killian’s age means nothing to me because he’s the best person I’ve ever known. No one else I’ve dated has ever treated me nearly as well as he has; no one listens to me or cares for me or loves me the way he does. And as terrifying as it is, because my dating history has seriously sucked, I know he loves me without even hearing him say it. And I… I love him too. And I’m really going insane right now not knowing if he’s alright out there, and you judging me for being with him isn’t helping how crazy I feel.” 

 The table is silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Emma chooses to go back to eating her onion rings and nervously bouncing her feet against the floor. Mary Margaret gulps, David’s wide eyes look between Emma and his wife, and Leo awkwardly eats his fries in the same way that Emma does. It’s the most painful silence she thinks she’s ever sat through. 

 “I’m sorry,” David finally says softly, turning his entire body so that he can face Emma. “It startled and surprised us when we found out, but you’re right. It isn’t fair for us to judge you. We’re clinging to the hope that you’d be, well, our little girl. But it’s time we realize that isn’t realistic and celebrate the time that we do get to spend with you. No matter who you choose to spend your time with.” 

 “Thanks,” she mumbles. She appreciates the sentiment, truly, but she gets the feeling there’s a but coming. 

 “I just hope that he feels as strongly for you as you clearly do for him.” 

 She tries her hardest to ensure that the look she gives him from the corner of her eye is not a glare, and she nods. “He does.” 

 “Alright, then,” David says casually, folding up his napkin and placing it on his plate before grabbing for his wallet. “Let's head to the docks and check the radar, then, shall we?” 

 Her eyes widen with anticipation and relief as she asks, “can you do that?” 

 “I’m the harbormaster. I can do whatever I want,” he says with a smirk and a wink shot in her direction. She follows him out of the booth with more enthusiasm than she’s felt all day, practically skipping out of the diner behind her father. 

 ~~~~

 “I can hear all of the long-range radio communications on here,” he explains once they arrive at his makeshift office. He pulls out his chair for her and lets her sit while he adjusts the receiver. “You’ll just have to listen out for him. So far, no distress signals or anything, though.” 

 “Good,” she agrees. She jumps in excitement when she hears a message coming through, and even though it isn’t from Killian, she knows he’s out there with this other captain. 

 She listens in silence for a while, David leaning against the table beside her and Mary Margaret and Leo standing off to the side and talking quietly. She hears many messages come in, many captains talking back and forth about the storm and the choppy waters and the dangerous conditions. A few of them have caught some fish, so she supposes it was worth it to them, but she hasn’t heard anything from Killian. 

 Eventually, after what feels like far too much time has passed, she hears someone ask for him. Emma desperately wishes there was a transmitter that would allow her to speak to him, but all she can do now is sit by and listen. 

 “Jolly, you still on?” the man asks, and David translates to let Emma know that they're wondering if Killian is still reeling in a tuna. 

 There isn’t a response, though. David explains that each captain should let the others in the fleet know when they’ve caught something, and Killian’s lack of response probably means that he and his crew are still wrestling with the giant beast. At least, that’s what she tells herself. 

 “Jolly Roger, come in. You guys still on?” 

 “Guess that means yes,” another captain responds after a moment. “‘Less he went overboard.”

 Emma pales, putting her hand over her mouth and biting her lip until David places his hand on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He’s joking,” he tells her. “They’re all like that. A bunch of ball-busters.” 

 She nods and gulps, listening on as the fleet’s captains joke with each other as if there isn’t a nor'easter threatening to capsize each and every one of them. As if it isn’t possible that it’s already taken the man she loves away from her. She hears one of them saying that they’re on their way back to the docks, having caught a fish big enough to justify ending their trip, and she silently begs anyone who might be listening that Killian is finishing up catching something big and will do the same. 

 Eventually, after far too long, someone speaks up and says, “I’m going in, too. Anyone hear from Jones?” 

 “No,” another answers. “He was fighting something big; hopefully they catch it soon. Gettin’ bad out here.” 

 Emma knows she can’t wait at the docks for him forever. It’s unrealistic, and she’s going to freeze to death. It’s nearly winter, and the mixture of snow and rain and heavy wind that assaults her in the scarcely covered dock is starting to soak down to her bones. But she can’t leave. She still hasn’t heard Killian’s voice over the radio-- it’s been pretty silent for the last hour-- and she can’t get herself to leave before she knows that he’s alright. 

 Mary Margaret apologizes as she leaves, bringing Leo with her to get warm. She says she’ll have a mug of cocoa waiting for Emma at Granny’s, but she isn’t sure when she’ll make it over there. Despite how cold and wet she is, she can’t leave here until he gets back. She can’t even think of the alternative to him coming back. 

 David waits with her for another hour. They’re fairly quiet, hardly any words exchanged between the two of them, but after some time passes, he starts to open up to her in a way she never expected. He tells her how grateful he is that she found them. He tells her how impossible it was for him and Mary Margaret to give her up, and that both of their parents essentially forced their hands due to their young age. He tells her how painful it was, finding out about Mary Margaret’s unplanned pregnancy and being faced with the reality that they could keep this child and they couldn’t keep her. He tells her how badly he wanted to try to find her, considering breaking the terms of the closed adoption that fell through for years. He had no idea that the family who adopted her initially had sent her back because once they agreed to place her for adoption, they gave up their right to know anything about her. 

 Tears spring into his eyes when he talks of wanting to give her her best chance. When he admits to her that giving her away was a mistake-- “the biggest I’ve ever made.” 

 When she was young, this is what she’d hoped for. She dreamt of her tortured parents, broken because of their decision to give her away. She’d hoped that they realized their mistake and regretted it every day. But now, seeing the way that the decision they made 25 years ago hurts her father, she wishes she could take his pain away. They didn’t have much of a choice at 17, what with having no income and no support from their families. They thought they were doing what was best for her; they can’t help that it didn’t work out that way. 

 “It’s alright, dad,” she finally says after some silence passes between them. She notes the way he looks up at her hopefully, his eyes still glassed over, and she realizes why. She’s never called him that before, never thought she ever would. But in this moment, with the support and honesty and love he’s shown her, she can’t think of him as anyone other than her father. Her dad. 

 She sniffles as she steps towards him, her eyes beginning to match his own, and she embraces him. It feels exactly how she’d hoped hugging her father would feel. It feels true, and loving, and she’s at peace here with him. 

 “I love you,” he says into her hair, his hand cupping the back of his head. “I always have, since the moment I found out about you. I’m so sorry I couldn’t give you the life you deserved.” 

 She doesn’t even think before she says, “I love you, too.” 

 A boat comes in and David buys their fish. When asked about the Jolly Roger, the captain shrugs and says he hasn’t heard from Killian since he got a tuna on his line, but that was hours ago. “Sometimes it takes a whole day to get them on the deck,” David tells her after the captain leaves. “With the weather, I'm sure they’re being challenged out there. But we would’ve heard a distress call if anything was wrong.” 

 She tells herself that he’s right, and that he would know, and sits back down at the table. She can’t torture herself standing by the entrance of the warehouse, getting soaked and becoming even more frozen as she stares out at the horizon. She distracts herself with her phone, trying to keep busy as she waits, wishing he would call or text her to let her know that he’s alright. 

 It’s nearly dark when David calls her over, and when she looks up, she sees a small vessel backing up towards the dock, Will and Robin tossing some rope around the post to keep the boat from floating out to sea. She stands with such force and hope that she sends the chair crashing to the ground, but she hardly notices as she starts running towards the stairs. It’s still windy and cold, but the snow and rain has slowed, making it just a bit safer as she sprints down the wooden stairs and across the dock where he’s landed. 

 “Killian!” she calls as she gets closer, and she sees him poking his head out from the small cabin at the sound of her voice, shutting off the engine and hurrying towards the edge of the deck. She doesn’t let him disembark, choosing instead to jump onto the deck and nearly shoving Will to the ground as she fights her way towards him, crashing into his sturdy arms. 

 “Bloody hell,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her close, his arms wrapping tightly around her and warming her in a way that nothing else possibly could. His sweater is damp, and she’s soaked to the bone, but neither of them care. She can finally breathe again with her nose against his neck and her arms around his waist, squeezing him close to her. 

 “Are you okay?” she finally asks against his skin. She pulls away so that she can look at him, holding his head in her hands and bringing his lips to hers in a relieved kiss. “Fuck,” she breathes when she pulls away. “I thought… I was so worried about you.” 

 “I’m sorry--” he says against her mouth when she kisses him again. He chuckles softly and tries again, “I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you.” His hand leaves her hip and brushes her wet hair out of her face, his fingers returning to trace gently over her cheek.

 “We listened to the radio, but we never heard from you. I thought something was wrong, or--” she cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip and staring into his eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean. 

 “The radio went out with some lightning. If I’d known you were listening… bloody hell. I’m so sorry, Emma.” 

 She tries to kiss him again, their lips touching for just a single, unsatisfying second before they're interrupted by Will. “Oi, you’re standing right over the fish, mate. You lot can canoodle after we get the check, aye?”

 They caught three giant fish, the maximum they’re allowed to have on their boat at one time. She supposes he was right about a storm being the best time to go fishing, but she doesn’t think she’d survive if he went out in this weather again. She wonders in the back of her mind if the hefty paycheck David gives them for their catch is influenced by her in any way, but she tries not to dwell on it. Afterall, it could be worse. At least her father somewhat approves of him now, or at the very least, tolerates the fact that they're together. 

 When they're done, he hands the keys to his mates and squeezes her hand. “I promise I’m not going out there in this weather again, love; not if it’s going to worry you. It isn’t worth putting you through that again.” 

 “Good man,” David says softly, nodding to himself as he packs up his supplies. “Ems, I’ll meet you at Granny’s? We should probably dry off.” 

 “Sure,” she responds with a nod and a smile. “Tell-- tell mom I’ll be there soon.” 

 David blushes and nods back at her, giving her a shy smile. “Will do, kiddo.” 

 They walk away hand in hand, both of them damp and freezing and in desperate need of the embrace of the other. 

 “‘Mom’?” he asks her when they're out of earshot, trekking towards the small cottage that’s been in his family for generations. She can hear the smile in his voice over the whipping winds, and can’t help but to smile as well. 

 “I had a very interesting day,” she explains casually, looking up at him and smiling before looking back down, careful as she navigates over the bumpy stone path that leads to his front door. It’s a very short walk; his house beside the lighthouse is prime real estate in the small fishing town. “Little heart to heart with my parents.” 

 “That’s wonderful, love,” he encourages, squeezing her hand as he fiddles with the lock with his other. When they finally get inside, out of the storm and into the warmth of his small living room, he says, “I’m happy for you.” 

 She hums and smiles softly, turning to him and wrapping her fingers around the neck of his rain and ocean soaked sweater. “You should start a fire,” she suggests in a whisper. “And get out of these clothes.” 

 “Aye, same could be said for you, angel. How long were you by the docks waiting?” he asks, running the tip of his finger along her temple and down her cheek. 

 “I don't know, it felt like hours.” 

 “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I would've tried calling, but there was spotty reception.” 

 “It’s alright,” she whispers back, pushing her forehead against his and cupping the back of his head with her hands. “I’m just glad you're alright.” 

 “Aye.” 

 “And there's… there’s something I have to tell you.” 

 “What’s that?” 

 It doesn't matter that they're both nearly dripping on the floor of his entryway, or that her hair resembles a birds nest, or that he smells like fish. None of the imperfections matter because when they're together, they disappear. Everything that could make their moment together feel amiss fades into the background when she smiles and whispers, “I love you.” 

 His heart stops beating. He wonders if he’s old enough to have a heart attack. It doesn't matter, because Emma admitting her love for him will surely keep him alive if he is. He chokes slightly, swallowing and taking a deep breath and then laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. Emma Swan loves him. 

 She giggles, too, her nose brushing against his as she asks, “are you in there?” and taps her fingers on his temple. 

 “Aye, I’m just… bloody hell. I love you.” 

 “You do?” she asks happily, her smile nearly blinding. 

 “Yes,” he responds. “Unequivocally. More than I ever thought it was possible to love a person. My life was so mundane and futile until you came into it, but Emma, you’ve given me so much hope. You’ve made my life… worth it.” 

 She breathes out a laugh and sniffles, scratching her fingers along his scalp and shaking her head. “You old sap,” she chastises playfully, making him laugh too. “I couldn’t agree more.”

 Their kiss is perfect. They don’t need the heat of the fire to warm them up because the energy between them is enough. He doesn’t feel the need to strip off his clothes because of how soaked through they are; moreso because of how badly he needs to touch her. All he can think about is her body on his and the cursed amount of layers he’s adorning. He feels slightly less suffocated when she strips him of his thick sweater, but only slightly. 

 She moans as she pulls at his trousers, popping open the button and sliding the zip as far down as it’ll go. Reaching inside, she palms at the contours of his hardened length over his underwear. She giggles, the sound ringing through his ears joyously, when she tucks her fingers under his long underwear and is met with even more fabric. “You really layered up, huh, Captain?”

 He nearly chokes at her use of his title, never liking it falling from anyone else’s lips as much as he does hers, and nods. “A winter storm requires prep-- preparation,” he stutters. 

 His eyes grow about twice their size and his breathing completely stops as she sinks to her knees before him, making her smirk as she looks up at him through her lashes in a way that she knows drives him mad. She’s practically buzzing as she looks up at his bare chest, the veins in his arms popping out tantalizingly as she runs her nose along the soft fabric of his long underwear.  

 The sounds he makes are unintelligible, and she’s found that that is exactly what she seeks when she gets on her knees before him: to have him in such ecstasy that he can hardly make sense of his words. She bites at the fabric so that she can pull it down, his cock springing free so that she can lightly scratch her fingers through the hair at the base. She loves the way he’s peppered with white all over, and she knows he likes her appreciation for it. The fact is, she can’t get enough of his perfectly sculpted body, the spatterings of silver and black making her heart skip a beat each time she thinks about him. 

 She can tell when she’s about to take it too far based on the way he struggles to keep his hips still, so she slows her movements and releases him with a pop, licking her lips as she looks up at him seductively. 

 “Do you want me?” she asks in a low, growling whisper that’s only just audible over the sounds of the wind picking up just outside the door. 

 “If I ever don't immediately say yes to that question, please smother me with a pillow. It means my age has caught  up to me.” 

 “Impossible,” she chastises, standing slowly and removing her own sweater. “You may be old, but I know you’re young at heart.” 

 He shakes his head at her, moving quickly to scoop her into his arms until her ankles are locked around his waist. “What did we say about respecting your elders?” he growls into her ear, biting at the lobe as he walks them towards the bed. 

 With a hum, she asks, “are you going to punish me, Captain?” and he tosses her gracefully onto the mattress in response. 

 “Perhaps I'll simply make you beg.” 

 “Oh, I'm not above begging. I happen to know you’re quite the catch, so it'll be worth it.” 

 “Are you making fishing jokes while I’m trying to seduce you?” 

 The smirk she gives him is telling as he pulls her leggings over her hips and bites into her flesh, making her jump slightly. “Oh! I thought I was supposed to nibble on your rod?” 

 “Emma,” he laughs breathlessly. 

 She breathes out a laugh as well as he drags his tongue along her folds, not quite touching her where she needs him. “You really know how to lure me in, what can I say.” He bites the inside of her thigh silently, making her laugh aloud and then stutter as his tongue finds her clit. He keeps it there only momentarily, moving away in favor of peppering soft kisses around her thighs and over her hips. “Stop teasing,” she whines with her eyes squeezed shut, and he can see her smile growing before she says, “or should I say… baiting.”

 He growls playfully as he hurries up the length of her body, decidedly punishing her by refusing to put his mouth on her center, although he doesn't think she minds as his lips collide with hers and his fingers plunge into her entrance. “You’re quite funny,” he says against her mouth as he expertly curls his fingers up against the sensitive spot inside her.

 “Tha-- thank you,” she says, struggling to get the words out around her gasps and moans. “W-will you-- mmm, Killian.”

 “Yes, my love?” he whispers as he sucks a bruise into her neck. 

 “Fuck me.”

 He hums thoughtfully, slowing his fingers and pulling away from her so that he can purse his lips in pensivity. “No, I don’t think I will,” he tells her, his tone serious but the sparkle in his eyes anything but. 

 “Killian,” she whines, giving him a pout and gasping as he flicks his fingers over her clit. 

 She’s about to go mad, both with need and with absolute irritation at him, before he places his lips at the shell of her ear, lining his hardened cock up to her entrance, and whispers, “I’d much rather make love to you,” as he thrusts inside. 

 Emma doesn’t even have time, never mind the wherewithal, to berate him for his jest. She clings her fingertips into the backs of his strong shoulders, weathered by the sun and battered with the exhaustion of his livelihood. Their mouths fuse together tightly, neither of them willing to be any further from the other than they absolutely have to. 

 She whimpers against his lips as he strokes his fingers against her expertly, touching her exactly as she needs him to. He pulls slightly from her kiss, his mouth hovering over hers, and she knows he’s going to ask if she’s alright without him needing to. 

 Rather than wait for the question, she says, “I love you,” into the barely open space between them. 

 Killian doubles down on his efforts, driving into her with passion and love, the likes of which she’s never felt before. He breathes his love for her into every inch of her skin, his movements echoing his words until she gives him one last warning whimper and they fall apart in each other’s arms. 

 “I love you,” he whispers against her skin. “You mean everything to me.”

 She gives him a soft smile, running her fingers soothingly into his hair as he collapses against her chest, his own heaving with each breath. “I certainly got more than I bargained for when I came here.”

 “Aye.”

 “Before I came,” she whispers, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Before I met you, it was like I was sinking. Like I could barely stay above water and I was one big wave away from capsizing.”

 He smirks against her skin, chuffed at her nautical references despite his teasing earlier, and says, “I believe I know what you mean, angel.”

 “And then I met you, and it was like I jumped overboard.” Turning his head so that he can look up at her, he raises a brow. “I was clinging to this dinky little boat that was sinking, you know? I was clinging to this idea of how my life couldn’t have gone. But I met you and you showed me that it’s okay when things don’t go the way we hope they will. You helped me see that it’s okay to let go, because…” she shrugs, busying her fingers in his hair. “Well, I guess because there was a life raft waiting for me. You.”

 With a deep blush, he shakes his head in disbelief of the woman before him, pressing a kiss to her chest before pressing up onto his elbows and finding her lips with his. “I love you,” he whispers. “You’ve changed my life for the better, you know. I was quite the half-drunken recluse before you came to town.” 

 “I know,” she whispers with a satisfied smile. “We make quite the pair.” 

 “That we do.”

 They lie in comfortable silence for a few more moments, Killian’s arms wrapped around Emma and his head on her chest as her fingers continue their ministrations through his hair. Eventually and reluctantly, they remember that they’re meant to meet her parents at Granny’s for dinner, and peel themselves off of one another just long enough to make it to the shower. They clean each other, after dirtying themselves once more under the water, and resign themselves to the difficulty they have keeping their hands off of one another. 

 Once at dinner, they tame themselves as much as they can, but neither of them miss the narrow-eyed looks being shot their way by David and Mary Margaret. Killian can’t help himself, though. She makes him feel alive; like a teenager in love for the first time. At the end of the night, after his confession that he plans to never sail through a storm again if it will ease his love’s worries, David shakes his hand and claps his shoulder wordlessly. 

 Three months later, after they’ve moved the rest of Emma’s things into his small cottage, she walks into the kitchen and catches him laughing elatedly with her mother before being pulled in for a tight hug. She wants to ask what they’re so excited about, but stops herself to take in the sight of the two of them finally getting along. It means so much more than her mom liking her boyfriend. 

 Their life together is perfection-- everything they could have hoped for and more-- and he can’t wait to ask her to spend the rest of it by his side. 

~~~~

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