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wonopia · 2 months

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SUMMER TROUBLES | 006. WORTH IT

[WC] . 1200 prev ! mlist ! next

it had been one week since the party incident, also the last time he talked with his friends, and the last time he'd talk with yujin. the last thing he said was "aren't you a guy?" how embarrassing.

that's almost all he'd been thinking about- how much he regretted it, how there were millions of other responses he could've said, how rude he must've sounded in her point of view and of course he wouldn't want that.

he'd been in his room with maeumi doing his summer reading but he'd finished them by now. he even debated on rereading them. of course he didn't, he wasn't that insane.

he decided to go to one of his friends house so he bundled up the courage to go ask his mom who was downstairs watching her show. he carried maeumi until they reached the last step of his staircase, putting her down carefully.

he trudged over beside the couch, "hey mom, can i go to tae's house? we planned to meet up a long time ago so we could start on his summer reading together," his moms series talking loudly over him.

"mhm yeah, go ahead, don’t be home late," she told him, leaning forward into her show.

"oh okay, thanks mom," he thanked, going upstairs to change before leaving to go to tae’s house.

they had never planned anything so jungwon was just hoping that tae was home although this whole time he'd been so busy. at the same time, the boy would rather stay home. it wouldn't hurt to stop by for a while.

so jungwon took the public bus to his place. by the time he reached tae's house, he was gasping for air because of how humid it was. the hot wind was doing nothing.

he heavily knocked on his best friends door. he squeezed his eyes shut when he didn’t hear anything coming from inside the house. getting impatient, he rang the doorbell. he started to fan his face due to the heat and could feel the drips of sweat forming around his face.

he wiped his face using his sleeve as he waited impatiently. he knocked a couple more times before gulping down his regret, what was this worth for?

"after all this time," he breathed out, basically gasping for air in his dry mouth, "gosh tae, where the hell are you?!"

he turned around before running with his hand over his eyes to cover himself from the sun as he sprinted to a nearby house, heeseungs.

"heeseung hyung!" he yelled as he approached the abode, "please, please, please be home.." he whispered among himself.

he knocked on the wooden door, leaning onto the frame, out of breath. in minutes, someone opened the door. it was tae.

"now you! i have mad beef with you!" he exaggerated, welcoming himself in heeseungs house without any acceptance.

"i thought you were grounded," he ignored his side comment.

"she said i could go to your house because we're working on your summer reading essays."

"which reminds me, we have to work on that," taehyun mumbled, taking a note of it in his head before walking up the stairs to heeseungs room.

jungwon followed up behind him out of breath. as they walked in, heeseung was lying down on his stomach on his phone.

"what happened to you?" he questioned, "dont tell me vernons dog got loose again.."

taehyun laughed at the thought before jumping onto the bed beside hee. jungwon dropped onto the floor, "gosh my back hurts. you guys live so far."

"you walked here?"

"no shit," jungwon retorted out of tiredness that turned into moodiness.

"why did you stop by anyways?" heeseung asked.

"because i cant handle being at home any longer without my phone!"

"ohh which reminds me.." heeseung started, getting up while pulling something up on his phone, "someone messaged me a day after the bonfire incident."

heeseung held the phone above jungwon’s face, his eyes widening at the screen and attempting to reach for it- before it dropped onto his nose.

"ah shit.." jungwon hissed, immediately getting up to massage his nose.

"oh my god!" hee exclaimed, " i thought you were gonna catch it!"

"what.. what the fuck.." jungwon cursed, looking at his hand to see blood, "did you break my nose?"

"no way," tae gasped walking over to him before leading jungwon up and to the bathroom, "gosh heeseung, that's one way to treat a guest."

meanwhile hee was kneeled down on the floor, he peeked over to his phone to see some blood smeared on it before cringing, "eww! jungwon, your blood got on my screen!"

it had been a while since won got punched by hee's phone and won was now messaging yujin on it.

"took her long enough to respond," hee commented while waiting for her reply.

"what'd she say?" tae asked.

"uhhh," jungwon slowly started to grin before covering his mouth with his extra hand as he processed what she said.

he flipped the phone around so they could see the message, they were both in front of him laying on their stomachs as won was sitting against hee's headboard.

heeseung scoffed as taehyun nodded, "this soobin guy got some nice friends. we're not friends with any girls, why's that?"

"you guys aren’t, i am," wonnie told them, gesturing to the phone.

"friends?" taehyun wondered, "yeah sure."

"i mean she’s gotta be into you a little bit."

"why do you say that?" won asked.

"probably because she messaged me about what was up with you the day after you didnt reply to her," heeseung told him, "and look at how she’s messaging you. she was asking all kinds of questions, she want’s to talk with you."

"thats how a conversation works, dumb."

"yeah but wonnie, you have to think about it from her perspective," tae jumped in, "i mean.. she said she's been waiting for your message or something, now that has got to mean something."

the phone buzzed in his hand, "guys, she asked what we're doing?"

"well.. what are we doing?" tae asked.

"you can’t actually say what you're doing," heeseung told tae.

"and whys that?" tae and won asked at the same time.

hee sighed, "do i have to do everything? no wonder we dont have girl best friends," he rolled his eyes, "just say we're all doing our own things on our phones."

"he's literally using your phone, dumbass."

"so much for doing everything," they retorted.

jungwon typed in that they were just talking about how the bonfire party had gone and that they were waiting for sunoo to arrive, which was partly what they were doing.

"now why would you say that?!" they both exclaimed.

note: i love where everything is headed. pls comment your thoughts freely, i love to hear people theories etc.

open TAGLIST: @nodiotter @ilovejungwonandhaechan @sol3chu

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karatekels · 10 months

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TIGmas Day #3 – Clear As Mud

Hello and happy third day of TIGmas, everyone – and sorry I’m late! Today’s story is dedicated to @senka-mesecine (aka @terrence-silver), whose stories are always among my favourites! This is actually an idea that I initially wanted to explore during Dark Desires October that I couldn’t get to in time. I’ll admit that the idea was heavily inspired by senka’s deliciously dark writing, so when she asked for this to be her TIGmas story I was over the moon! I hope you this story was worth the wait!

All that being said, this story is very dark and in no way full of Christmas cheer.

Summary: You’ve tried to get Terry to open up about his time in Vietnam on more than one occasion, and while he’s been doing his best to help you understand, he ultimately decides that the best way to help you is to put you through something similar, hunting you in the middle of a forest at sunset.

TW: Discussions of PTSD, stalking (more like hunting), horror, rough sex, graphic sex, outdoor sex, dubcon/(consensual) non-consent (it’s really hard to tell how much say anyone has when it comes to being involved with Terry Silver, after all – regardless, it’s not something I condone irl)

Note: Sections in italics are flashbacks to previous conversations about the war.

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Clear as Mud

---

This was hell.

“War is hell,” he had told you countless times before – he’d made use of the cliched saying on numerous occasions, but it had always rung hollow, an expression rendered meaningless from general overuse.

But now, trudging through the thick, muddy woods surrounding Terry’s chateau in the mountains in the hot, humid night, you think you’re beginning to understand that the saying was in no way hyperbole.

“How many times do we have to have this discussion, Y/N!? I told you, I don’t want to have this conversation,” Terry had growled, his body visibly thrumming with tension as he tried to keep himself under control. You give him a pitying expression, your heart going out to him, but you’re resolute in your pursuit to get him to talk about his trauma.

“Vietnam was such a significant time in your life, Terry. I know you’ve got a lot of repressed to protect yourself, but if you’re not willing to see a therapist about it, you have to at least try to let me in,” you beg, trying to deescalate and keep him calm, reaching for his hand. He moves out of your reach in a quick, jarring movement, his eyes wild and angry, and you try not to let it upset you too much.

“It’s okay, Terry. I’m not upset, and I’m not scared of you. I know that you’ve killed people, a–”

Terry interrupts you with a guttural noise, pushing you against the wall roughly. You stay perfectly still.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, baby girl. You don’t know,” he murmurs quietly, pressing his body tightly against yours, overwhelming your senses. “We didn’t ‘kill people’; we eliminated obstacles,” he says flatly, stroking your hair absent-mindedly while he glares at something off in some imagined distance.

“Some with weapons pointed at you, many without. Men, women, children, we tried not to pay that much attention. It’s when you see them as people that you start to think, so we were trained to use our trigger fingers, not our brains.”

Despite being sandwiched between the wall and Terry’s chest, your body still finds a way to tremble with fear, though you try to suppress it.

“War is hell, Y/N,” he says, smiling sardonically at the cliché, his grip on your hip and your throat tightening; you don’t even remember him starting to choke you, but you find the edges of your vision getting blurry. “Not because you’re being shot at constantly, watching your brothers die, losing your will to live, but because you find yourself doing the same thing right back to somebody else.”

Terry reaches between your bodies to his belt, and you feel yourself tense minutely, knowing he would notice. He always needed to fuck you after talking about the War; he said that you helped him forget, even though what you desperately wanted was for him to remember, to work through it, to ease his conscience.

Sure enough, he’s got you slid up the wall, your legs around him as he fucks you deep and rough like he’s trying to crawl into your body. You do your best to hold on, every noise that passes your lips indistinguishable as either a moan or a whimper, Terry whispering nonsense into your hair as he chases after his orgasm like a man possessed.

“Makes you wonder if you’re the damned or the Devil,” he pants in your ear, licking up the single tear that trails down your cheek.

A branch snaps somewhere close by and you attempt to stifle the cry of pure, primal fear that bursts forth from your lips. Your body aches from the tension of holding still, freezing as every part of you strains to hear him, to see any hint of movement through the thick foliage.

He had proposed to you three nights ago, the heavy ring now safely on your bedside table – he’d suggestedthat you remove it during tonight’s… activities. Terry has always been mercurial, but this sudden turn from lavishing you with extravagant gifts and his love as you celebrated your engagement to outright hunting you through the forest for sport is demented, not to mention terrifying.

You aren’t sure what his goal is, what the end point will be, how you’ll know that it’s finally over. Does he mean to hunt you forever?

Can you even be considered ‘prey’ if you’ve willingly walked into the trap he set for you, and continue to stay in with full awareness and knowledge?

The sun continues to set, bathing the woods in bloodred light.

“You could be hiding in the muck, in a hole in the ground blown open by landmines for hours, days even,” Terry had told you, his gaze hardening as he looked off into nothing. “You’re scared to breathe, scared to feel sunlight on your skin – it leaves you exposed. Then you watch your friends get picked off like flies, bullets in their brains or landmines turning them into mulch.”

You try to force yourself to breathe slowly, deeply, regularly, but quietly; Terry would pick up on the slightest hint of noise on the wind. The small part of you that wants to just stand out in the open and let him find you – to end this – is drowned out by the thudding of your own heartbeat in your ears. You know there’s no reasoning with him; you can’t even reason with yourself.

You hear a piercing whistle from Terry’s lips, a chilling tune that echoes through the mountains that make your hair stands on end; at least, the hair not plastered to your skin by the thick mud smattered across your body. Unable to help yourself, you flee from your hiding spot, aimlessly sprinting, your sense of direction narrowing to just away.

“Fear keeps you alert, keeps you sharp. Keeps you alive.”

You hear his pounding footsteps coming after you, crunching leaves and twigs underfoot. You know how silently he can move; he’s stomping around just to scare you.

It’s working.

Your shirt snags, caught on another branch, and this time you just tear it off, leaving the tattered scrap of fabric behind you, dangling like a flag at half-mast. Your torso now bare, the cuts from your previous run-ins with the foliage are exposed to the air, stinging faintly. You wonder if he can taste your blood in the air, like a shark; it wouldn’t surprise you at this point. Nothing could.

“They were chameleons, blending into the jungle to lie in wait. We couldn’t see ‘em even five feet in front of us, sometimes. I learned to be a ghost, but in the end it still wasn’t enough – none of it mattered. Except I had John.”

You wonder if John had ever stalked his significant other – or anyone, for that matter – through the forest for his own amusement. Somehow, you doubted it. And while you’d always had a healthy dose of fear for the only man who could keep Terry Silver in line, at this moment you wish more than anything that it was Kreese hunting you instead. At least he could be reasoned with.

As if to prove your point, Terry lets out a maniacal cackle that scares off the remaining birds, and you dive behind a fallen log, pressing yourself against it in the hopes of avoiding detection. The thick mud is chilly on your bare skin yet you find you want to burrow deeper into the puddle to conceal yourself, and would if the noise wouldn’t attract his attention.

Terry enters your line of sight, so silently you wouldn’t have known he was there unless you were looking right at him, and you narrow your eyes into slits, not wanting so much as a glimmer of light reflecting off of them to give you away. Watching the fluid, controlled way that his massive body moves through the trees as he hunts you, you’re reminded of the xenomorph; something so big shouldn’t be able to move so smoothly, so silently.

He finally moves out of your field of view, but you wait a good minute or two before daring to breathe normally. You shakily get to your feet, looking around you for Terry and for any indication of which way the house is; you’re completely disoriented on the side of this godforsaken mountain. You have to squint due to the fading sunlight, and that’s when you see him, calmly surveying you from the distance while leaned up against a tree, his mouth twisted into a smile. Despite the low light, his eyes seem to glint at you from across the clearing.

“T-Terry!” you exclaim, your voice an octave higher than normal. He makes no move towards you or to answer your question, his head still cocked to the side as he observes you with interest.

“Terry, please stop this!” you beg, your arms wrapped around yourself. He chuckles quietly in response, the low sound creeping across the space between you and sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, doll, that’s not how this works!” he tells you with a cold laugh. “There is no surrender.”

“What do you want from me, Terry?!” you exclaim, your voice hoarse with fear. “I just want this to be over!”

“It’ll be over when there’s only one man left standing,” he explains patiently, as though it was obvious. “When there’s a winner and a loser and the spoils of war are taken.”

You have no idea what that means, but you’re certain it’s nothing good.

“You either hunt or you are the hunted, Y/N,” he leers at you, finally moving to crouch into a runner’s stance that has you immediately stumbling back and away from him. “Get back to the house and I may show you some mercy.”

You cling to the likely empty promise like a lifeline, turning away and sprinting as fast as you can. You’re not even sure if you’re running in the right direction; he could be herding you somewhere else. Still, you have no choice but to keep moving forward, sensing him rapidly closing the distance between you.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter. You step down and feel something tighten around your ankle, the snare trap set off and lifting you into the air with a sickening crack of your ankle that has you screaming out in pain. Terry stops running, leisurely walking up to your dangling form and howling in victory; the hunt is over.

“I was so hoping you would run into one of these,” he confesses breathlessly, eyes bright as he takes you in, crouching down to be closer to your eye level. “You know what it does to me to see you helpless, Y/N,” he adds with a feral expression, his tone suggesting that you were intentionally tempting him.

“Terry, please!” you whimper up at him, tears blurring your vision as they slide around your eyes to drip off of your forehead and onto the forest floor. “I think my ankle is broken!”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says dismissively, but you do believe him. “For now, let me take you in.”

You do your best to ignore the pain and keep quiet as you hang by one leg, your body rotating slowly like it knew that Terry wanted to stare at you. As you slowly swing back around to face him again, you see he has pulled out his cock, pumping his shaft with a gloved hand. Seeing you watching, he closes the distance between you, reaching up above your ankle to steady the rope and keep you from spinning.

“Open,” he demands with a firm tap to your cheek, his hips level with your face. You suspect he had measured it out in advance for the express purpose of having you blow him while caught in a boobytrap.

“Terry, it hurts!” you manage to get out before he’s thrust himself inside your mouth. You reflexively stop trying to speak and relax your throat; he has trained you well.

“Spoils of war, doll. Gonna need you to earn your freedom,” he jokes, thrusting himself fully into you until you’re choking around his cock before releasing you, allowing you to catch your breath for a brief moment. “Now suck.”

You obey, just trying to focus on getting free before all the blood rushes to your head, the forest silent save for the lewd, wet noises coming from your mouth around his dick and Terry’s occasional grunt of pleasure.

“It’s not the same, you know,” he murmurs quietly after a prolonged silence. “You’ll never understand what it was like being there, no matter how many times I try to tell you, try to show you.”

So that’s what this was all about, you realize with equal parts pity and dread. He had grown weary of trying to explain his time during the War to you, and was trying to show you instead.

Christ, he was fucked up.

Somehow, in spite of everything, it only strengthens your resolve to help him.

“You’ll never know what it’s like, to be faced with someone and not know if they’re with you or against you, and only having a fucking second to decide!” he snarls while fucking your face, his large hands holding your body steady, fingernails digging in past the mud and into your flesh.

Next thing you know, he’s lifting your body up, cradling you against his chest, one hand reaching up and yanking the trap free from the branch in one sharp pull, lowering you both to the ground and crawling on top of you.

“But you don’t need to know it, baby,” he continues, though you’re unsure how much he’s really talking to you at this point. His hands tear at your pants, pushing them and your underwear down to your knees, pointedly not exacerbating your ankle. He wasn’t completely out of his mind, then. Why couldn’t he just talk about his issues? This perverse simulation is just creating issues of your own.

“You don’t need to know it,” he repeats, looking down at you, muddy and scratched and hurting, like you were his salvation. He pushes your knees to either side, working his length inside of you and pushing you further into the ground. You feel tree roots press into your back, bound to give you bruises.

“I’m gonna keep you from all of that shit; gonna keep you safe, babygirl,” he pants, breath hot against your neck as he ruts into you. You find yourself clinging to him desperately, nails digging into his broad shoulders as you cry out into the night – for yourself, for him, for your pleasure.

“You’re my saving grace, baby, my own little Lady Liberty,” he coos, baring his teeth all the while. “Flip over for me.”

You roll onto your belly, gritting your teeth against the pain radiating from your ankle as you do so, and push your ass up towards him. Terry is immediately on you again, his arms bracing himself on either side of you as he presses against you, fucking you into the mud with an animalistic growl.

“You save me just how you are, just like this,” he hisses, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust that has you groaning into the soft earth against your lips. “And you’re gonna stay just like this, sweet and warm and mine, my little haven, my little sweet spot, isn’t that right baby?”

“YES!” you howl, throwing your head back as you dig your nails into the dirt, bracing yourself as he pounds into you. “Let it out, let me take it for you!”

Your words seem to make Terry snap; he pushes your face down into the mud, hips hammering against yours hard and fast and deep until he’s coming hard inside you with a guttural snarl.

Fisting your hair, he pulls your head up and turns it to the side to let you breathe, even as he collapses on top of you. You gasp for breath, trying to wipe the mud off of your face, but it’s hopeless and you give up after a moment, stroking Terry’s arm where it’s wrapped around you.

Eventually Terry sits up, tucking himself back into his pants, somehow still barely muddy, and looks around the forest floor. He finds a thick branch, snapping it into pieces, and sets about making a splint for your ankle, not saying a word. You observe him quietly, the odd wince escaping you as he secures the splint to your foot. Satisfied with his work for the time being, he shrugs off his jacket, wrapping your naked body with it to get you warm before lifting you into his arms, mindful of your injured leg.

“Thank you,” you offer quietly, looking down at your foot instead of up at him as he carries you back home. You’re nearly embarrassed at how close you were this whole time. Terry adjusts you, his gaze never faltering as he moves you to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, my love,” he returns with a sly grin. “For helping me talk things out,” he clarifies, letting out a laugh at his twisted euphemism.

You don’t see the humour in the situation, but won’t be pushing him to open up about the War again for the foreseeable future.

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This is far and away the darkest thing you can expect from me this month, I promise! That said, I can’t say I’d mind something in this vein as a Christmas present… 🥵

#Thomas Ian Griffith #Terry Silver #Terry Silver x Reader #KarateKid3 #Karate Kid Part 3 #tkk3 #Dark Desires October #TIGmas #12 Days of TIGmas #Smut #karate kid #kk3 #the karate kid 3

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devnmon · 2 years

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Long Winded Safe Haven.

Chapter Three: Written in My Stars

Summary: [i promise this is the last chapter of Daryl and Merle content.] It's the third day of the new world, and Daryl has had it with Merle's plans. They find themselves stood before two people who claim to have a camp/ Their introduction to the group at the quarry is very brief here, as they agree to wait and see if they'll have a place in the camp. Daryl tries to overcome the awkwardness, but only time will tell if he succeeds.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Masterlist | Playlist

Chapter Warnings: Merle Dixon, typical twd violence/walkers, scary situations

wc: 2.8k

Daryl woke the next morning to the sound of merle banging on the trunk he occupied. The banging boomed throughout the car, his body jolting out of surprise. The muscles of his back were already aching as he shifted ever so slightly. Daryl had quite literally been curled up into the fetal position on his side the whole night, no wonder his body ached like it did.

"C'mon brother! Up and at 'em! we're burnin' daylight and you're still gettin' that damn beauty rest!"

Daryl groaned loud enough for Merle to hear, beginning to undo the ties he'd put around the interior part of the trunk.

"Ain't you bangin' on walker guts righ' now?" Daryl remembered the guts him and his brother had placed on the cars the night before.

"Nah, a storm musta passed through durin' the night, washed all of 'em off. Good thing we hid when we did... else we'd be food for those geeks. Plus, the ground's all wet. An' it's already hot out."

Great. The humidity's gonna be even worse t'day.

And that was the first thing Daryl felt coat his skin the minute he cracked the trunk open.

The sunlight was bright as ever, shining directly in his eyes and blinding him for a moment or two, before they adjusted accordingly. Merle watched as he climbed out of the trunk, back aching as he stood up fully for the first time since the night before.

"Shit, it's hot as hell out here."

Here we go again..

"Yeah. it's Georgia. We've been here our whole lives." Daryl muttered to himself, half wishing his brother would hear him and shut up for once.

But it was always, genuinely always something with him.

Why couldn't Merle just keep his mouth to himself? Why did he have to poison the air Daryl breathed with his unprompted opinions and comments?

"Oh, I'm sorry we ain't in a mansion, little brother!" Merle tapped daryl's shoulder with the back of his hand, "Last time I checked, ya didn't have a problem with bein' outside! We've been huntin' here our whole lives, wasn't that what ya said?"

Of course, using his own words against him.

"I don't! I'm jus' fuckin' tired of bein' on the road all the damn time! I was fine with it while we were huntin', but I don't wanna spend the rest of my life out here! We gotta find a camp, a real one. An' stay. No more of this half assed 'robbing the camp blind' shit! We ain't need to get on anyone's bad side, 'specially now!"

Daryl was starting to get agitated at the fact that Merle always made the wrong decision, resorting to violence or harsh words when he didn't get his way.

Daryl knew both of those quite well.

"Brother, if you got somethin' to say, you say it, right here, right now." Merle's face was condescending, his arms crossed over his chest. Daryl wasn't going to give merle more ammunition to shoot at him when he got pissed. He was always going to hear it ten times worse from his brother.

Waryl thought it best not to light that match, since it was only the beginning of what was going to be a long and hot day of travel.

"Nah. Ain't worth it." Daryl huffed, picking up his pack and bow from the trunk and slinging them onto his back. "Let's jus' get movin', before another herd gets on our tail."

Once again, the two packed their belongings to head out through the humidity of another Georgia forest. somehow, the brothers ended up getting way further into the forest than they'd intended. Large hills came out of nowhere, the terrain only confusing Daryl on their location when he didn't recognize the area.

"Mot to jerk a knot in your tail, brother, but do you have the slightest idea where in hell do you think we're at? Or.. are we lost?" Merle chirped up, perky and wanting so badly to get on Daryl's last nerve.

He only shook his head, lips pursing together as his shoulders stiffened.

"Nah, we ain't lost." His response was gruff and low, a quick snap at his brother to make him stop his conversation there. Obviously, that wasn't the case, since Merle opened his big mouth the second his brother responded.

More fuel for your fire, man.

"Well, man, we've gotta be. I ain't recognize any of this area. And I know my wooded areas."

"Wou know, you're really barkin' up the wrong tree right now, Merle. 'Sides, I said we ain't lost."

"How would you know, brother? I'm the one who taught you everythin' ya know about huntin' and trackin' and survivin' out here! So don't get your feathers all ruffled! You know i'm always right, anyways."

Merle's cockiness pissed daryl off enough to know his brother's never going to save his pride over anyone but his damn self.

"Man, you really don't know shit about shit." Daryl's voice lowered, still intimidated by his brother and how harsh he backfires.

"Oh yeah? And what don't i know shit about?" Merle only paused himself from going on further to cross his arms once more and think about how his own brother just questioned him.. again.

"C'mon man, that plan of yours? It's not gonna get us nothin' other than thrown out on our asses. You're gonna make it real hard for us to stay with a group if you keep comin' up with shit like that!" Daryl kept his voice lower than Merle's was already getting when he responded back again.

Just like Daryl thought he would, Merle shot off on a rant about how he's trying to make life in this world better for us. Then he proceeded to go on longer about how people have had it better and we should be grateful to show anyone mercy..

"Merle, would you listen for one damn second?"

"No! You listen to me, boy! I'm the one that made you the man you are! Huh? Me! So don't act like you haven't been followin' me your whole life!"

This was true, but Merle always ends up twisting Daryl's words.

"I ain't never said that, Merle! You just think that takin' what people already have is gonna help us more than it was already helpin' them?! We can't do that to other people!"

"I'll make ya understand.. just you wait." Merle seethed, getting annoyingly close to Daryl's face before walking off in the opposite direction they had been going.

"Where the hell are ya goin' now?" Daryl called after him, getting a middle finger flipped at him.

"Takin' a piss, don't lose your marbles without me!" Merle called out from a distance, knowing he would return after he went and did his business for a little while. This was always the result of Merle not wanting to argue over something he saw right in his point of view.

Daryl shook his head, sitting on a nearby log. His hands fumbled for his pack once again, finding the spark to write about what had just occurred.

The pen clicked as Daryl started scribbling on the page.

Day three

Tryin my best to convince Merle to change his mind bout robbin' a camp. Ain't right. I put up with a lotta his shit. But not this. Ever. Bein' Selfish during this time ain't gonna help at all. could go for a few hours of not bein' near his stupid ass. or at least a few hours of silence. Used to bein' out here with no noise, not his yappy ass. Gotta find a way to deal or swear I'm gonna end up killin' the bastard. Maybe i’d be better off.

He finished writing the entry, shoving his journal away once again, noticing the sound of his brother's voice booming from a distance for the third time now.

"Darylina, where you at, brother?" He stood from the log in a hurry, belongings being swung onto his back. Peering around a tree, Daryl spotted his brother moseying back over to where he was previously sat.

"Merle! You clear your mind and realize I was right 'bout your plan?" Daryl only half believed that his brother would come to terms with something he'd suggested, but he didn't really have faith in Merle like that.

"Nah. Came to tell you I was right." The next thing Daryl saw was Merle swinging a fist at his face, knocking him to the ground. His body landed on the dirt with a thump, Merle still standing over him as he looked up.

"What the f- Ah! You son of a bitch! What the hell you do that for?!" A sharp pain ran across Daryl's cheekbone from his brother's punch. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, crimson staining his skin as he looked down.

"Well, I tried to tell you, brother. But you didn't wanna listen to me! I said we'd be better off with my plan and that we didn't need no group in the first place." Merle leaned down to Daryl, getting real close to his face again, "Just their stuff."

"And I tried to tell you that we need at least a few more fuckin' people in this world to have our backs than jus' you and me!" Daryl pulled himself from the ground to talk with his brother face to face.

"Come on, man! We've been doin' just fine on our own! We don't need-"

"Just fine? I slept in the trunk of a car last night, Merle! Are you shittin' me right now? I'm tryin' to guarantee our survival in this shit world, if you couldn't tell."

"You? Guarantee my survival? I'm the one that guaranteed your survival many years ago! you'd be dead without me. Me! Me, and no one else. So tell me, why you don't like my plan again. hm?"

"Yeah, I'll tell ya why-" was Daryl all could get out before he heard the rustling of leaves from a distance. His expression dropped, and the both of them started glancing around for where the steps were coming from.

Daryl recognized the step pattern as human before drawing his bow. His muscular forearms pushed an arrow into the barrel, and by the time it'd clicked into place, he turned to where the footsteps in the surrounding forest were coming from. Freezing in place, he began staring into the brush where the sound had retreated.

"Come out, now!" Daryl's rough voice called out, hearing a rustling once more until two people emerged from behind the leaves.

You appeared next to a young asian man, approaching out of the wood. Daryl noticed your backs bare of any baggage except for a rifle on the man's back and a pair of binoculars around your neck.

"Well, lookie here! Bambi and her boytoy.." Merle chuckled with a snide look on his face.

"Who are y'all?" Daryl’s aggressive voice called out, bow still drawn. The two of them looked like deer in headlights, startled from the same man yelling at them before.

“Hey man, it’s alright, Y’all ain’t gonna hurt us.” Merle had a smirk plastered on his face, one that could say the nastiest things.

"I think we're the ones who should be asking that, seeing as you guys are in our foraging spot.." The man with the baseball cap spoke first.

"Yeah, where the hell did you guys come from? And here I thought we were far out enough from the city..." You said, slightly trying to lighten the serious mood, since Daryl still had his bow aimed on them.

"Alright, first thing's first you don't have to point your weapon at us, we aren't a threat to you, clearly.. Second of all, are you gonna answer me? Where did you guys come from?" The man’s face dour, waiting for a response.

Merle spoke up, sharing a glance with Daryl before looking back at you, tension growing with uncertainty.

“Oh, we've been traveling for a couple of days now, lookin' to find some place to hole up for a while.” Merle spoke, trying to deceive the two people in front of him.

"Yeah? No luck so far, clearly." Tightness grew in your chest as you crossed your forearms over it.

The snark from the perverted man disgusted you, picking up the fact that he saw himself better than anyone, especially women.

“Now you listen to me, Bambi-“ Daryl pushed his brother back at his stance starting to walk towards you.

"Merle, back off." Daryl really didn't want to scrap the chance they were getting if these people actually had a camp they could go back to.

"What he 's tryin' to say is that we've been on the road since the world went to shit, and we're runnin' low on food. Could use someplace safe to camp out for a while till we get back on our feet. That is, if ya got one."

"Um.. you guys have any... specialized skills or something?" You spoke again, questioning the brothers.

"What kinda skills you mean, girl?" Merle spoke again, laughing cynically as if to suggest you were talking about anything other than survival skills. He muttered a 'shut up, Merle' before answering you.

"Apologies for my brother, he ain't the brightest tool in the shed," Daryl remarked, giving his brother a look before continuing to talk, "We're both real good at huntin' and scavenging, trackin' people and animals and shit like that. Plus my brother's got army experience, too. So, you got a camp, or somethin'? W'all wouldn't ask us this if ya didn't have one, or at least a group.."

Daryl peered at you and the dark haired man, watching you both share a look before replying.

"Even if we did, I'm not sure if I trust you both enough to bring you guys back with us."

"And what if we don't wanna join your camp, huh, Bambi? What if we're doin' just fine out here on our own?" Merle's voice sounded out once more, trying to test the two in front of him.

Considering the look of both the men from a few feet away, they were bulky, probably strong and smart. The itch at the back of your throat told you something was off with the two, sweat-adorned foreheads and dark circles under their eyes told more about them than what met your eye.

No, these guys need us. They're exhausted and should rest.

"Listen, you just told us that you're low on food. Let us help you. I know more about people than you'd think. You guys are clearly exhausted, and need some place to rest for a while. Even if you don't want to come, I'm sure there'd be a place for you."

It's then that you turn your head to your foraging partner, his dark eyes still studying the hunters before him.

"Glenn?"

"What?" The man, now identified as Glenn, looked back over at you before speaking once more.

"They have useful skills and be good for the camp. We can't survive on Amy's berries and mushrooms for the rest of our lives. C'mon!"

"If we come back from our outing with these two random guys behind us, Shane will flip! Out!" Glenn's hands were in the air now, attempting to get his point across.

"Not when he realizes they can help us! I say we at least give them a chance.. Alright?"

Damn, he's makin' several good points and she's tryin' to show him the good in us. Haven't met anyone like that before.

"Y/n.. you're really pushing it right now, and I-"

That's your name? It suits you. Daryl' thought, his brain half caught off guard that these people seemed decent and wanted to willingly bring them back to their group.

"Glenn! Oh my god! Just listen to me for once! Please!"

They sure argue like an old married couple...

Daryl remained calm while they talked it out, while Merle on the other hand grew impatient. He never liked waiting long for anything, was always one to jump the gun before thinking rationally about every little thing. Daryl had watched his brother be overtaken by this urge ever since they were teenagers.

"Hey! I don't trust the bald guy!" Glenn whisper yelled to you.

Daryl would be lying if he didn't admit the guy's opinion of Merle made him chuckle.

"Okay, well I trust the other one. The guy with the bow. So come on already and agree with me."

Oh, she was talking about him.

She trusts me?

"Fine. But it's your ass if Shane gets mad."

Your counter was better than glenn's, in Daryl's opinion, but was still caught off guard when you admitted it.

Who's this Shane guy? Sounds like an asshole.

With a sigh, the duo's bickering finally ceased, Glenn turning to them with their fate in his hands.

"Look, we have a camp, okay? It's out by a quarry, we're all up there with a bunch of other people. Now, if you guys could provide our group with those skills you mentioned before, and help out our camp, we could see about taking you back with us. Maybe."

"What he means to say is it's alright for you to follow us to camp, I'll talk to the guy in charge and a couple other people to see how they feel about letting you two stay. Alright?" You looked to Daryl, watching as the tension in his shoulders diminished at your words.

"Yeah, we'll help out your group." Daryl's gravel voice spoke out, softer than before.

"And what about the rest of camp? Huh?" Glenn turned to you again, knowing how some people would react to this information better than others.

"Well, they're just going to have to live with the fact that I brought them two hunters who agreed to hunt for our group." You shrugged at him, wanting to let it go and head back..

"Hey hold on there, Bambi." Merle perked up at your words.

Oh God, this was either going to go really bad or even worse.

"I don't remember agreeing to work my ass off huntin' in these woods for no damn people that ain't at least feliciated my piece, if ya know what i mean." merle chuckled, a distasteful smirk on his face.

"merle.. shut up."

"nah, man. i meant what i said."

"excuse me?" you turned around, clearly offended at what his brother had said in his ever-so-snarky tone.

"Ohh boy.." Glenn just stood back and watched, not wanting to piss you off more.

"You heard me, Bambi."

You scoffed at the name he kept using, quite offended at the man before you, and his attitude. After all, you had just invited them back to camp, and he had the audacity to tell you how things were going to be?

"Listen here, baldy. I trust my friend Glenn a lot, so you should be lucky I even told you we would bring you back with us! Oh, don't worry, we'll still take you.. but if Shane doesn't want you in our camp, I'll let him deal with you instead. Have fun with that.. Now are you coming, or what? We haven't got all day." Daryl watched as you walked away, turning your head back to make sure he followed.

"C'mon, let's go." Daryl told his brother, before walking ahead to follow the two back to their camp.

Merle only scoffed, but followed anyways.

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aguamarinee · 1 year

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➪ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Fuma × reader

➪ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst

➪ 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a series of memories written down from both sides after their parting. They can't let their emotions go towards each other, but their relationship is forbidden, they can't be together anymore, and they have to bear this burden and get through it somehow.

➪ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: ,,We are someone in the highlight, you are the summer of my life. Don't worry 'bout all the heartache oh."

➪ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1,4k

...He remembered her cheers; a thousand smiles couldn't shake his heart the same way hers did.

Then the way they met, when he first got to see this beautiful expression on her.

His heart sunk then jumped up, like the finest waves of the ocean, lapping comfortably and reaching the shores.

The shores in this case were his feelings, his quickened heartbeat reaching the center of his sentiments.

Blood drummed in his ears repeatedly, his cheeks seemingly getting fluffy and softer to the touch by turning crimson; the color of passion, admiration, and pure love.

Yes, it was pure love for him, from the start.

Every time she showed up he turned into the warmest sunshine, the purest child, the prettiest night sky, or the finest plush blanket — the best version of himself, only for her.

Before that, blushing and feeling giddy was almost alien-like for him, unknown to his insides.

But after a while flushing at every single thing she did became a pleasant reaction, a reaction he anticipated every day.

If he could, he would melt away like a putty, becoming the mushiest form of any material found on Earth.

Or even, he would've gone outside of Earth to search for something even more unique, magnificent to this whole world, never before seen... And never seen again.

Her porcelain hands he held oh so many times, her face reflecting her true emotions like the clearest crystal glass, her petite shape, and form compared to him, dainty eyes and lips, the most delicate cheeks he laid his shaking fingertips on. Ever.

...Shaking.

It made him remember the first time he saw her cry.

Those endless bright orbs leaking of salty liquid which were painful to his heart.

And her shoulders and chest slightly shook every time she released a sad sob.

Agony was written on her angelic features and her glow disappeared, not even a faint spark staying and her body language turning distant, closed-up, and cold.

So cold he felt frozen in his steps, and so cold he could've frozen to death in the biggest heatwave in the desert.

So cold... That snowfall and hail in the most ferocious and cruelest winter seemed tempting, like a blessing, a refreshment.

Almost hot and humid in comparison to the coldness she was releasing.

This time his heart sank and stayed like that.

He didn't know for how long.

But he wished for not too long.

He knew he could take a lot.

...But when will this promise truly break him?

When will 'taking a lot' will become genuinely a lot?

Unbearable, too much, more than what flesh and blood can stand?

That flesh and blood that throbbed all the way together for her, her heart, her happiness, her well-being, her existence.

That night he wished upon a shooting star to be with her forever.

But it wasn't just a wish, it was never just one wish... He never declared himself as a prayer or such, he believed a certain result is achieved with hard work rather than godly guidance but this time, he prayed so much that sometimes he forgot what other words sound like slipping from his mouth.

That same routine consisting of three or four sentences dried onto his lips, repeating it like an endless sacred mantra granting peace to his ever-running mind about the girl for a couple of hours.

She's the only one he would put his hand in the deadliest fire for, let it burn his smooth skin and he would even jump into the darkest, worst pits of Hell.

It might kill him, but if she survives, then it's worth it.

And just how he was fond of his blossoming love, now the same blossom-turned bloom of petals and petals-turned striking rose and rose-turned cruel thorns were fondling his heart's strings one by one like a thousand tiny knives, slower than the flow of eternity.

"...And if she dies?! Then what!?" He asked the oldest, currently his only support in this situation, the only one who knew what was going on.

"Your feelings will die too. And you'll finally be at peace. Rest a little, life's been hard on you, Fuma." He replied coolly.

"My feelings exist because of her— and I still exist because of my feelings!" He cried out the last words.

It broke him; his stance, his whole being sinking to the floor.

"If you really love her, then you'll learn to let her go." These were his friend's final words before he left him in his room, alone.

"Did he make you cry?" Her friend asked in a panicked tone.

"Worse." She shook her head, tear streaks visible on her face, eyes glassy and sad, not focusing on anything.

"...Did he hit you?!" She raised her voice and stood up from the chair with fury glowing in her irises.

"Even worse... Than that." The girl choked out, her voice barely audible. "...He made me fall in love." She whispered, her face turning pale, her hands tightening and the skin at the knuckles shifting into white, her bones meeting with the shell and muscles in that area.

But she wasn't angry in particular, she wasn't clutching her hand in fury or anything.

More like; it took every last and remaining bits and pieces of her willpower to not burst into glowing, salty tears again.

She cried so much already, every river and flowing stream hid themselves in embarrassment rather than in comfort; hugging around her petite, sad form, hiding her under the thick azure and turquoise waves, covering her in their understanding warmth as if in winter season one of December's coldest nights were awaited by her.

Those salty, crystal-like bits that she once admired when visiting said waters, playing in them, feeling them gurgling and babbling around her ankles and wrists either in her memories from childhood or such vivid remembrance from just a couple of months ago... With him.

He was the perfect addition to these outings and after she finished enjoying what the salted natural liquid had to offer, he was the perfect distraction and remedy to her dry, calloused hands and the perfect way to quench her thirst with his sweet lips.

His whole being was like the freshwater, that kind of water the human body could bear to drink from.

With him it always felt like she has an endless supply against thirst, she never felt dry or burnt-out, she always felt well-rested and hydrated.

But she began thinking that maybe she was spoiled?

He always reassured her though that it was not possible or even if it was, he was willing to give it to her; to spoil her until he can't, to give her everything she needed, and beyond.

Beyond the big seas and oceans, beyond his own supply that he offered any time of the day.

And beyond his own happiness and well-being... Beyond himself.

That's what broke her.

When he confessed after the damage has been done.

Despite trying to repair this, or rebuild what has been harmed, both of them silently felt the real weight of things.

Their shared supply of love running out, going dry hastily, at a sickening pace, like the worst-case plague to ever happen to humanity... and deep feelings.

Rivers turned poisonously green, hard to the touch, harmful effects of chemicals covering everything in a murky black cape, bringing bad omen to other lands and forests.

There was no reachable or earth-bound source left to save this condition.

...Cold rain poured down onto the windowsill at a very slow pace, the big, sad raindrops reflecting a dried-out relationship's last bits.

That was where it ended.

And that was where it had to end.

The agreement was mutual as well as the remaining feelings of sorrow.

They dripped down on both of their faces in tear form slowly, but only a couple of them, like the rain outside, because that day the sky cried with them too.

They were right for each other, they knew that, but the timing was wrong.

And that fact took them a long time to discover, unfortunately.

No damage has been undone or forgotten, but now, looking back... It was worth it, a little bit.

A little bit, between life and death.

But perhaps the next time they meet such injury might be evitable, for both of their sake.

➪ 𝐀/𝐍.: I don't know why I decided to write something sad with Fuma out of everyone, but I typed this out in one sitting — which is extremely rare — and he was the first who came to mind. I hope it was enjoyable though!

➪ 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 【𝐌 𝐀 𝐒 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐋 𝐈 𝐒 𝐓】 !

#Spotify #&team #andteam #&team fanfic #&team fuma #andteam fuma #murata fuma #&team angst #&team scenarios #&team x reader #&team oneshot

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rvby · 5 months

Text

at least try to go to sleep

cw: alcohol, drugs, vomit, blood, self-harm, thoughts of suicide, accidental suicide, gray fox typical masochism.

he’s always dreamt of the same thing, night after night after night. bodies lying in a pool of blood around him. when did it start.

he dreamt of the opposite, long ago. of allies smiling around him. when did that disappear from view. when did he lose all of that.

not that it matters. he’ll forget about it in (we’d give a time if he could keep track of it).

bile swells in his stomach. up his chest. up his throat. it hits his teeth on the way out. he hates the feeling. when was the last time this even happened to them. (recently, he doesn’t even remember. a little too much a little too late and fuck, why’d they have to stick to alcohol? coke and a bitch with a knife used to do the trick. splatter blood all over them ‘til they’re left screaming. how many times did he have to practice that one until it settled raw and true into his skin, into his muscles, into his bones.)

sick. you’re sick. he just wants to grin up at the sky at whatever joke of a god there is and flip them off into high heaven. *heaven*. what a load of bullshit.

he heaves again. when was the last time he ate. last time he drank. nothing but acid burning his tongue. fuck, he’d kill to take a knife to the back of his neck over this. feels like sick and dizziness and blood on the bathroom floor.

shit, blood? from inside or- (dumbass, all blood comes from inside. not exactly helpful) you know what i mean. he smashes the back of his head against the wall. shut up. shut up. it sends a shock through his system. great. because sitting in vomit and spit and blood on the *god-damned* bathroom floor without a limb to stand on is just where you want to be. how the hell are you going to get this cleaned up-- how the hell did you even *get* here anyway?

he knocks the side of his head on the wall now. looking for a lower buzz from that shock up his body. something he can use. something to make this worth it. it’s just getting worse. it’s just getting worse.

when was the last time you

when was the last time he

disappointed chiding. he can almost hear it. disappointed. worried. a memory slurred out in blurry images. let’s play guess who! don’t. x x x yeah we know. cause he saves us. he always does. keeps us from od-ing in the middle of fuck-knows-where doing god-know-what while you’re sweating like you’re dying of heatstroke. better than the cold. better than alaska.

i don’t know why you hate the hot and humid so much, snake. it’s not that bad--if you’re used to it. so thick you can drink the water off the leaves. you should come visit sometime, when we’re both retired. (like hell you’re retiring, fox. you’ll be dead before you get there. ha! maybe. bet i’ll last longer than you.)

god, get your head off the floor, you’re making a mess. come on, stay awake at least. hold it down or double it. (did we ever find out where the blood came from?) inside to out.

what was this what was this

dreams? we were dreaming? do you even remember what it was about?

come on, stay awake. stay with us. stay with us. miller’s gonna bust your ass in the morning when he finds out you missed drills. (like that old f##### could catch me. hey, you wanna bet i can steal his leg and run with it? come on fox, that’s just mean.)

eyes open eyes closed eyes open eyes closed eyes open i’d turn on a light but it’d kill you at this rate. where’s a lighter when you- he grabs at the floor, searching for something he’s sure should be there. pants and pockets and *there it is*. his lone arm left to fish out a cig and set it between his teeth and light it. the smoke tastes better than the bile at least.

he’ll have to drag himself to the tub eventually. why’d he have to go and slice himself up around the metal end of his right leg. clawing at the junction between metal and flesh as if to rip the nerve caps off and toss it. (he had enough of his mind not to, just barely. he’d have been better off dying if he did.) bandages soaked in filth--if you get an infection that’s your own fault. (you know, back in the day, the hellmaster was one hell of a- don’t bullshit me fox. oh come on, i swear this one is true!)

maybe it’d be better if it did. if he- (not like it matters, the train of thought. he’s already unwrapped it. left on the floor with the other scraps of his misery. the sound of the water is making him sick again. *unnatural*. you were better off drowning in the river, under the trees. food for the animals. returning the favor for all the disgusting meals he’s made of hunts lost in the wild. (good practice my fucking ass. you’ll eat anything, alive or dead.)

hitting his head on the side of the tub. it’s a miracle he doesn’t have a brain hemorrhage. don’t drop your toaster into the water. or was it a hairdryer. fork in the toaster? not the first time you’ve sat in the tub thinking about it. but slitting your wrists just feels too good. the water seeps into it just the way you like and you’re too alive to die today. you like the feeling of cold wet hair sticking to your sweating neck. makes up for the heat. you’re wet from the humidity anyway, just jump in. just jump in. just jump in.

one. two. three. four. he doesn’t realize he’s even banging his head on the wall. mesmerized by the pain and the feeling and the emptiness. five. six. seven. eight. (all you need is a cheerleader and a knife and some coke to keep you going don’t you. are you even american? or are we whoring ourselves out for plain cash? where the hell are you even getting a cheerleader out here. no a chick in a miniskirt doesn't count, shut up.) just don’t drop your fork in the toaster in the water unless you want to

well, at least he won’t be feeling it in the morning.

#lfg gray fox nation (no one liked this)#self #pulled from my server so hes post mgs1 and also can't actually die bc he'll just respawn #vivi writing

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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“Can’t we just give up already?” Pidge whined. “We’ve been hiking in this stupid jungle for a billion years. It’s hot. It’s humid. I’m hungry. We still haven’t found the stupid fucking cave, I don’t even think it’s real. Can’t we just take this one L? Just the one?”

Keith had to agree with her. Normally these adventure missions were right up his alley, but he was more equipped for desert heat — this humid shit was awful. He had no idea how Lance was prancing around like it didn’t affect him. I grew up in Cuba, the weather in the summer sometimes got so hot you literally weren’t allowed outside, this is nothing, bleh bleh bleh. Jerk.

Even Shiro was struggling to stay optimistic, which brought Keith an absurd amount of joy despite his own hatred of the situation. Yeah, it sucked, and it was hot, and he wanted to go lie in a freezer for the next four days, but Shiro had his crazy eyes. It was fantastic. Keith couldn’t wait for the someone to light his fuse juuuuust right. It might be a younger brother thing, but watching Shiro explode was funny literally every time (he watched the Shiro-Slav-Explosion footage before bed every night and laughed just as hard every time. He couldn’t wait to get back to Earth and tell Adam, so they could laugh at Shiro together).

Pidge kept whining about how hot and sweaty she was, eventually goading Hunk to join in, and it finally happened — Shiro cracked!

“Paladins,” he said sharply, smile manic and eyes twitching. Pidge and Hunk snapped their mouths shut immediately. “I know everyone is tired. And hot. But we made the Floroxits a promise, and they need that cave mineral. Allura has assured us it is worth our time. So. We are going to keep following the map, and drinking water, and you two are going to stop whining or so help me God I am going to lose it.”

Keith smirked to himself. Sounded like he had already started to lose it. Heh.

“Now. Hunk. You’ve been on nav, right? I feel like we’ve been walking in circles for a while. Where are we?”

Keith felt a ball of dread grow in his stomach as Hunk started wringing his hands together anxiously, like he did when he knew he had maybe fucked something up.

“Um. Well. I’m not great at nav, and the map looks way different from the actual jungle, so it wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate to possibly maybe insinuate that I. Am not entirely sure. Where exactly. We are.”

Shiro’s eyes twitched harder, but Keith couldn’t even properly enjoy it. They were lost?!

“You got us lost?!” Pidge shrieked. “Hunk! You goober! Why didn’t you say something?”

Hunk threw his hands up, defensive.

“I don’t know! I’m sorry! I kind of just gave Lance the map after a while ‘cause I couldn’t figure it out! I was hoping he’d maybe know —“

Keith turned behind him, about to give Lance as much shit as Pidge was giving Hunk (yes, he was well aware this wasn’t in any way Lance’s fault, but pissing off Lance was almost as fun as driving Shiro loony. Keith lived and breathed for their little rivalry and arguments, although he would rather eat a rabid squirrel than admit that to Lance under any circumstance), but did a double take when he didn’t see the Blue Paladin right behind him.

“Wha — where’s Lance?” Shiro demanded, looking at Keith. Keith threw his arms up, incredulous.

“Why the hell are you asking me? I’m not his babysitter! I don’t know! Why are you looking at me like I killed and buried him, or something?”

“Well if it was gonna be anyone…” Pidge muttered. Keith glared at her darkly.

“Who’s side are you even on?” he demanded. She shrugged, uncaring.

“My loyalty can be bought and sold like gasoline during an economic crisis. You have no god here.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I did not kill Lance, I have no idea where he is. But…” Keith but his lip, letting a bit of his anxiety show through. You won’t get him to admit it out loud, but he worries about Lance. That loveable dumbass somehow always finds himself at the business end of a sword or gun, no matter the situation, and it kind of stresses him out. Keith has no idea how it’s even possible, given that they are miles into the deepest part of a literal uninhabited jungle, but he wouldn’t be shocked to turn a corner and see Lance shit-talking one of Zarkon’s goons with a blaster pointed directly at his forehead.

“Y’know,” Keith muttered. “We should probably look for him, or whatever.”

Keith scowled further when he saw the smile envelop Hunk’s face. “Aw,” he cooed, “I knew you cared about Lance, buddy.”

“Actually, on second thought, he can die in this jungle. Why would I want him here anyway, he’s frustrating and loud and his face is so distracting and —“

“Wait, shut up for a second,” Pidge interrupted. She squinted at something just behind Keith. “As much as I would love to hear Keith admit how often he makes goo-goo eyes at our one and only Blue Paladin… are those Lance’s shoes?”

Keith turns to face what she’s squinting at, pointedly ignoring the goo-goo eyes comment (he does NOT, Lance is stupid and not at all pretty, okay, Pidge can shut the fuck up), and raises an eyebrow when he sees not only Lance’s dorky retro sneakers, but also his stupidly adorable shark socks and what looks to be a good portion of his armour.

To say everyone is flabbergasted is an understatement. Shiro, in particular, looks absolutely bewildered. “Why would he — Lance is the biggest germaphobe on the ship, why would he be walking barefoot around the — he’s gonna step on something —” A voice called out from way above them.

“I found the cave, guys! It’s about six kilometers to the east!”

Four heads shot upwards, eyes widening as they focused on a tiny waving blob, several dozen storeys high in a tree.

“Oh my God — Lance hold on! Don’t move” Shiro demanded, panicked. “You don’t have your jetpack! We’ll come get you, oh my God!”

Either Lance didn’t hear him, or decided to ignore him (Keith could guess which one was true for the contrary little fucker, albeit a little hysterically — Lance had to be at least 300 feet in the air, and Keith had seen him trip over his own two feet six times in the last four days. Sue him for worrying a little), because he took a running leap off a branch, launching himself in the air.

Keith is not the only one who screamed at the top of his lungs, and he’ll bet his lion on that. Pidge is a lying liar who lies and never agrees with Keith ever. Keith heard her scream too, Pidge is a gaslighter and a fraud.

But Lance was not plummeting to his death, thankfully. He angled his body, curving his fall, and then grabbed on to a nearby vine, using his own momentum to swing himself around the paladins, letting go at the peak of his arch. He flipped twice in the air, then landed in a graceful crouch in front of everyone, grinning at them.

“That was awesome!” he exclaimed, straightening up and dusting off his flight suit. He walked over to his pile of stuff, and started pulling everything back on.

Everyone gaped at him. After several moments of stunned silence, Lance looked up from where he was tugging on his leg braces.

“What?” he asked, as if he had not just leapt from a tree as tall an average apartment building. With zero safety equipment. Informing no one of his plans or his apparent skill in said stunt.

Keith, predictably, recovered first. Any chance to start something with his rival. Go figure.

“What the shit was that?!” he demanded, shrill.

Lance raised a brow, either not seeing the issue or willfully ignoring it.

“Uh, me wrapping up this mission?”

“What part of jumping to your death was wrapping up the mission?” Pidge screeched, for once backing Keith up.

Lance rolled his eyes. “I didn’t ‘jump to my death’,” he argued around mocking air quotes. “I made sure the tree was sturdy and climbable. I checked for vines strong enough to swing on. I’ve done this before. It wasn’t a Keith decision. It was well thought out! And now I know where the cave is, so we can grab those minerals and bounce.”

Before Keith even had the chance to be offended over Lance substituting his name for ‘impulsive’, Shiro had already walked away, muttering something about ‘high blood pressure’ and ‘goddamned thick-headed children who don’t think a damn thing through’ or whatever it was old men grumbled about. Keith resolved to make fun of him for it later. Hunk spoke up next.

“Not to encourage you or anything,” said Lance’s number one enabler in an enabling tone, “But that was kind of dope. You looked like Spider-Man, and you got us out of this stupid jungle faster. So. Props, man.”

“Aw, thanks, dude!” said Lance, grinning, as he bumped Hunk’s outstretched fist. Pidge threw her hands up, incredulous.

“Unbelievable! He leaps from 300 feet in the air and you congratulate him. Say it was fucking cool. I hate boys.” She stormed off to join Shiro, but Keith didn’t miss the slight smile on her face. He knew that she knew that as reckless as it was, what Lance did was unfortunately cool as shit.

Keith scowled at Lance and at himself for thinking that Lance was in any way anything other than a dork, and punched him twice in the arm.

“Ow! Fuck! What is your problem, Keith? Why did you hit me twice?” he demanded, rubbing his shoulder. Keith sniffed.

“First one is for jumping to your death like a fucking crazy person. The second one is for not inviting me. Jackass.”

He stalked away, but couldn’t hide his grin at Lance’s answering laugh. He rolled his eyes at himself.

Whatever. At least his crush was cool. Shiro’s fiancé unironically went to bed at 8 p.m. and got up early to watch birds eat worms or whatever.

Keith wins this one.

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Those Who Wait

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 4,985 Tags: 18+, Loss of virginity, Insecure reader, Fingering, Protected sex Summary: When you let it slip to the team that you've never had sex, they make it their mission to help you find someone who will make your dreams a reality. *Requested by anons!

Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate this, but I am not a virgin,” Spencer says, palms up, and it’s clear this is something he’s reminded the team of on more than one occasion. You’re on the jet on the way home from a case, all of you gathered around chattering mindlessly to decompress, with the exception of Hotch, who is in his usual seat, working on his computer.

“And I never said I was talking about you,” you reply, with a tone just shy of smartass. You regret bringing it up already, because this will open the door to a topic you did not want to discuss with the team, ever, but you can’t put the cat back in the bag.

“Hold on. Are you…?” Emily grins a little, but her face drops into a frown when she notices the change in your demeanor, the tension in your shoulders. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, at all.”

“You’re a virgin? Really? You’re almost thirty,” Morgan says, leaning forward to look at you, and you nod, shrug. “Is it a religious thing? Saving yourself for marriage?” You scoot back in your seat, blow out a breath, use the casual posture to try to mask your discomfort.

“Nope, it’s not a religious thing. I’m just waiting for someone who’s worth it.”

“If you’re waiting for the perfect person,” JJ says, folding forward, hands clasped in front of her, “you’re going to be waiting forever.”

You sigh, because this is exactly the reason you didn’t want to bring this up.

“I’m not waiting for the perfect person. For a long time, I didn’t have time to date, and I was—you know, satisfied, without it, so it wasn’t an issue.” Your cheeks heat a little when you say it, and you rub a hand over the back of your neck. “But lately I’ve kind of shifted toward wanting to have sex, to find someone to make the connection with. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I do have standards.”

“Don’t put pressure on yourself to do it. You’ve waited this long, why rush into things?” Emily says with a soft smile, and you reciprocate, grateful.

“I actually think it might be better if she just goes for it,” Morgan disagrees. Why aren’t you surprised? “Get it in, get it on, and get it over with. Then you won’t feel like it’s hanging over your head.”

“I’m trying. It’s not that I’m not trying. I’m going on dates; they’re all just really, really bad dates—like, the worst I’ve ever been on.”

“How many dates?” JJ asks with an arched brow, and you grimace.

“In the last month? Twelve.” Morgan laughs out loud, and you kind of want to punch him.

“Twelve first dates in the last month and you can’t get laid? Where are you finding these guys?”

“This stupid dating app Garcia convinced me to sign up for. They all seem fine on their profiles—”

“Oh, no, you can’t go by their profiles. Complete bullshit,” Emily says, and you throw your hands up in frustration.

“How else am I supposed to know what they’re like? They’re strangers.”

“Your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.” You’re a little surprised when it’s Spencer who chimes in; everyone turns to look at him. “You’re a lot like me, and I know that I was nervous and insecure, and waiting for the right person made it a really great experience for me. I think you should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful.”

“She’s going to be waiting ‘til she’s eighty,” Morgan says with a grin, but he pats you on the back. “And if you do, I guess that’s okay. Not every guy can be a catch like yours truly.”

“Oh, spare us,” JJ says with a laugh, and you move on to other topics for the rest of the flight.

When you go to grab your luggage before heading back to the office, it’s just you and Hotch left on the jet; he’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when he steps up next to you, he says your name, low, to get your attention.

“I just wanted you to know, you deserve to be treated well… your first time. You should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful, like Reid said.” You just look at him for a moment, not sure what to say.

Part of you knows what you want to say. You want to say, is it worth it? You want to say, how will I know? You want to say, would you make it meaningful?

What you say is, “Thanks, Hotch.” He nods, hands you your bag, then takes his, closes the luggage compartment; he gestures for you to go ahead of him, and the two of you exit the plane.

You all go back to the office. Everyone hangs around for a few minutes, but Hotch goes up to his office, turns on the lights, sits down at his desk, and takes off his jacket. He’s in for a long night, then. You’re just getting ready to leave when Garcia strolls over, bag in hand.

“Hey, girl. How was that date the other night? Haven’t gotten to talk to you about anything other than murder the last few days.” She notices that your eyes are on Hotch’s office, looks up at him and back down at you. “Is everything okay, hon?” The concern in her voice snaps you out of it, and you look to her, smile.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. The date was not, though. I’ll walk out with you.” You grab your things, throw your jacket over your arm, and take one last look up at Hotch’s office before making your way to the parking garage. You go on seven more dates over the course of three weeks that are a complete waste of time and effort. Who knew having what you consider relatively basic standards would make losing your virginity so goddamn difficult? You know you’re not a knockout like JJ or Emily, and sometimes your nerves get the best of you, but you’ve been pretty charming, funny, all dolled up and putting out clear, but not desperate, DTF vibes.

The longer your quest drags on, the more embarrassing it gets. It actually becomes a part of the morning meeting: as soon as you enter the briefing room each day, Morgan raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head. He’s keeping a tally. You want to die a little bit.

Finally, you’re sitting at home one evening when you get the call from JJ that you’ll be heading to Miami for a case first thing the next morning. You thank her for letting you know, but before she hangs up, she says, “Bring a dress, something sexy. If we have an extra night, we’re going to a club and getting you laid.”

You stammer, a little embarrassed at the directness, but you pack a short, light, red dress, something appropriate for a humid Miami night, on the off chance you’ll actually get to go out.

The case is solved in a day and a half, and you are going to stay the night again, so JJ and Emily make it their mission to get you ready for a night out, and Morgan and Spencer make it their mission to scope out your potential partners and check for red flags before you even get close to them.

It’s sweet, kind of wholesome, when you ignore the fact they’re trying to get you fucked.

You have a drink at the outdoor bar, try to loosen up a little; the place is swarming with gorgeous, supermodel looking women with very little clothing on, breasts and ass everywhere you turn, and you feel inadequate, self-conscious in your little red dress. You freaking hate Miami.

You get glances from Morgan and Spencer, nudges of encouragement from Emily and JJ—even Hotch is around somewhere, part of the red flag detail, which you hadn’t expected—and you’re so close to giving up when a song comes on that you know and absolutely love.

Sex is outside your realm of knowledge, but dancing you can do, and you wrap your hand around Emily’s wrist and tell her you want to. JJ takes your drinks, sets them on the table, and the three of you head out to the dance floor.

It’s clear they didn’t expect much of your dancing, because they looked surprised as hell that you know how to work your body to the music, putting your arms on JJ’s shoulders and moving against her. She looks up, grins at Emily over your head, and cocks her eyebrow, impressed.

“Not that innocent after all,” she says, and you toss your head lightly, laugh.

“Said I was a virgin, not that I was innocent.” The three of you dance together, and you’re approached by several guys who try to get behind you, in between you, closer anyway they can. JJ and Emily are selective with who they entertain and who they give the brush off, and you’re grateful, because despite the outcome, you’re having a good time, and you never would have done this alone.

Eventually, a man comes over, wants to dance with you specifically; the girls exchange looks, give you a nudge, and you put your arms around his neck, let him rest his hands on your hips.

He’s pretty hot, you have to admit, a little under six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile, and dancing against him feels good. If it’s any indication of what if would be like to have sex with him, you’d let him take you home in a heartbeat. Of course, it’s been pre-planned that you’ll go back to your room upstairs if you hook up, so your people are nearby in case anything goes wrong; it’s maybe a little weird, the thought of your coworkers being cheerleaders while you lose your virginity, but what about this isn’t weird? At this point, you’re just going with the flow.

This guy is nice enough, doesn’t go straight for your ass like other guys you danced with, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing; you pull back, get his attention so you can tell him thanks for the dance, but you’re going to go back to your friends.

You don’t get a chance to say that, because you’re guided away from him by two strong hands on your waist. You turn, ready to tell someone off for getting handsy with you, but it’s Hotch, so the defensive posture you’d slipped into softens.

“Oh, hey. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” you ask loudly; his expression is serious, his brows pulled down in a frown. He shakes his head, leans in closer.

“I can’t let you go through with that—with him,” Hotch says in your ear, still hard to hear over the thrum of the music, and you put your hand on his shoulder, lean up so you can speak into his.

“What? Why not?” you ask, breathless from dancing and the heat. “JJ and Emily thought he seemed alright.” You didn’t actually want to go through with it, but that’s not important at the moment, not when Hotch is clearly trying to get some kind of point across.

“It’s not that, I just—you deserve better.” You frown, not sure you heard him right, and one of the hands on your waist moves lower; he presses you closer. “I don’t know if you would consider it, but I could do it. I could be the one.”

“The one?” you breathe. You need to hear him say it to confirm it’s not all in your head, that you aren’t taking anything out of context.

“The one you sleep with. The one to show you how good it can be. The one who will treat you well.”

You take a step back, have to see his face; is this pity, kindness, genuine interest? Because for the last few weeks, after every bad date, you’ve come back to the thought of Hotch kissing you, touching you, taking you apart. You know his hands are capable, you know he is kind and gentle, and it’s only the thought of him that keeps you from leaving with the first guy to show you attention. You’re so frustrated, never more desperate to feel than you have been since he told you you deserved something good.

He swallows when you look up at him, and your heart races.

“If you want to, I want to. No pressure if you don’t,” he assures you. What he’s saying is so unexpected, but so perfect, and you nod, wet your lips, lean back up on your toes to put your mouth to his ear.

“I want to. I trust you.” Feeling bold, you brush a hand over the back of his head, press your lips to the side of his neck. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” He sounds as tense as you feel, holds you tightly, like he needs to make sure this is really happening. You cling to him just as tightly, nod your head against his throat, and he squeezes your waist, ushers you across the crowded patio and inside the cool air of the hotel. You both sigh, because it’s quieter, more comfortable, and your gaze lingers over his body until he pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

You’ve done your fair share of kissing, and Hotch is so good at it, his hands on your face, his lips softer than you would have imagined, but firm in the way they press against yours. When the kiss breaks, you bring your hands to his wrists, breathing heavily, and then lean in to follow up with a kiss of your own.

He smiles softly, and you smile back, then slip your hand into his and let him lead you to the elevator. You’re not sure if it’s the night of dancing, the heat, the thrill of not only having sex after waiting so long, but having sex with Hotch, or what, but you feel changed; you’re a grown adult, you know that losing your virginity doesn’t mean much, doesn’t change who you are fundamentally, but the thought of experiencing it gives you a stomach full of butterflies in the best way possible.

“Would you like to go to my room, or yours?” he asks when you board the elevator, and he presses the button for the third floor. You plan to say it doesn’t really matter to you, but a thought crosses your mind.

“We can go to mine. I have condoms.” You’re not shy about using protection, know it’s just plain stupid not to, when you've been essentially searching for a new partner whose sexual and medical history you know little to nothing about, but telling Hotch makes your face heat a little. “I bought a variety pack—you know, when I started going on the dates.”

“Good. That’s good,” he says, nodding, and then he bends to kiss you, brushes his fingers over your jaw. “How are you feeling? Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Good,” you clarify. You feel so much better than okay you barely know how to say it, but there is one thing you didn’t think to ask before. “Hey, are you… are you attracted to me?” You look him over curiously, and the elevator dings; you step forward to get off, walk down the hall, but Hotch puts his hand out to stop the door, which stops you.

“I’m attracted to you. You’re gorgeous, and ever since you mentioned on the jet that this was something you were looking forward to… I can’t deny I’ve thought about being the one you share it with. Are you attracted to me?” You wet your lips, ready to reply with an emphatic yes, but he must take it for hesitation. “I understand why you want to do this, but if you aren’t attracted to me—it’s important that you want this with me, not just that you want this. I don’t want us to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

His words make you lose a little of the nervousness you were still holding onto, and you decide to show, not tell, how you feel about him; you wrap your fingers in his shirt and guide him down for a kiss that is hotter than before, still soft and slow, but wet and deep, too. After a moment, the elevator dings—likely due to the door remaining open for so long—and you break apart, breathless, and exit the elevator to head down the hall to your room.

Your interaction isn’t exactly awkward at first, but a little stilted: you both take off your shoes, and you grab waters from the mini fridge, hand him one and take a long sip of the other. It’s almost as if you are delaying the inevitable, but it’s not because this isn’t something you want to do; if pressed, you’d say the idea of having this time with Hotch is actually something you want to savor, not rush into too quickly. You aren’t delaying, but prolonging, and eventually you have to snap yourself out of it and just enjoy what you have while you have it.

You cross the room, walk over to him, and put your hands on his stomach, look up at him with clear eyes. His fingers ghost over your bare arms, and for a moment you just share breath, a lingering stare, until you stretch up to meet him in the middle for a deep kiss.

Hotch moves his hands to your hair, tips your head up, and you wind your arms around his back, pulling him closer and stepping forward until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He is warm, broad, solid beneath your hands, and you push them up the back of his shirt, skim them over his skin.

“Can I take this off?” you breathe when you separate, and he nods, helps you work it over his head and drops it to the floor.

Your hands rest on his stomach again, glide up his chest, and when you kiss this time, he turns you so your back faces the bed, eases you onto it. He lays between your legs, kisses until you’re both panting with need, and when you lean your head back to catch your breath he moves his mouth to your neck, trails it slowly up, then down, softly bites at the base of your throat. You hum softly, clutch his shoulders, bring your knees up around his waist.

“God, I want you.” He pulls back, looks down at you, his chest heaving, and you nod, brush fingers through his hair. “I want you, Hotch. Please touch me.”

He begins with the slow drag of big, careful hands down the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your dress up around your waist. You can’t stop looking at his face, serious and handsome, even though the rest of him is perfect too; you like that he looks affected by this, like it means something to him as well, like you’re not alone in feeling a bit overwhelmed. He moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans up on his knees so he can pull your panties off, sets them on the bed beside him.

“I’m just going to rub. Tell me if it’s too much, not enough.” He curls over you for a kiss and slides his fingers along your pussy, three of them, long and thick. You close your eyes immediately, because the first touch is so good, his fingertips gliding through your slick and spreading it over your lips and clit; you are both breathing heavily, mouths hovering over each other, and you clutch at his biceps while he rubs where you are soft and aching.

It’s not that it’s not enough—you could get off this way, easily, you’re halfway there already—but you want more, imagine yourself clamping down around his fingers, digging your nails into him when you come.

“Can you…” You trail off, bite your lip, and he smooths a palm over your cheek, your hair.

“Ask me. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.” A soft, needy noise leaves your throat, and he presses his lips to yours, slips the pads of two fingers over your clit, rubs circles against it. “Is it this? Is this what you want?” You wet your lips, think no but yes, move a hand to his face.

“Can you put your fingers inside me? I want to feel you inside.” Your voice trembles over it, not used to being so direct, not used to asking for what you want, and his answering kiss is deep, wet; he pulls back to look at your face as he presses one finger inside, and you feel your expression shift, from desperate to intensely pleasured, your mouth open, eyes wide. “Hotch, oh.” He pulls it out slowly, nearly all the way, and pushes it back in, rubs your cheek, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Good is an understatement, and you clench around him, slide your hands down his forearms, nod. “Good. It’s okay if you’re just quiet, but if you’re nervous about how you’ll sound, don’t be. I’d like to hear how you’re feeling.” Another reason to feel so good about this—because you are self-conscious of the way you’ll sound, and you should have known he would pick up on it, try to ease your insecurities. You wet your lips, nod, and he moves the finger slowly in and out, adds another when you ask him to.

“Mmm. Mmm.” You bring a hand to your covered breast, squeeze it, and he moves to push your dress up further, to bare it, maybe, but you tense, then instantly feel silly.

“What is it?” he asks gently, running his hand over your stomach instead, and your muscles relax, you sigh.

“Just a little self-conscious… about my breasts—especially after everything I saw downstairs,” you say, huffing a laugh, and he chuckles, nods.

“Miami is a bit much. But you’re so beautiful, sweetheart, just as you are, and it’s clear they bring you pleasure. If you’ll let me, I’d like to take your dress off all the way, touch them… kiss them.” The prospect sounds so tempting—your nipples are sensitive beneath your own hands, but under his? His mouth?

Your breathing picks up again, and you nod, rest your arms over your head so he can pull it up and off. You swallow, trembling and bare beneath him, and he steps off of the bed to push the rest of his clothes off, too; you know you feel vulnerable, so maybe he sensed it, wanted to make you more comfortable? Either way, he is gorgeous, and you’re so grateful to be doing this with him.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks, bending over the edge of the bed to kiss you with a hand on your cheek. You direct him to your bag, and he opens the box, takes out the one he needs, walks back to you; you lean up on your elbows to watch him intently as he tears the package open, rolls it onto his cock. When he climbs on top of you again, when he pushes your knees gently apart and makes himself at home between them, you shudder; you can feel his dick for the first time, hard against your thigh, and he leans in to kiss your throat, your shoulders, and eventually, your breasts.

His mouth covers one, his hand covers the other, and you gasp when his lips close around your nipple, suck softly. “Hotch, oh my god.” You lift your hips, looking for contact, and he removes the hand from your breast, uses it to line his cock up so it can slide over your pussy as you rock against him, wet, perfect pressure, as he pulls your breast more roughly into his mouth, nibbles it.

You arch your back, pushing your chest closer to him, and he moans, slowly glides his hands over your throat, into your hair. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he slips out from between you, making you sigh at the loss. Now that you’ve felt him, it’s maddening to be without, and you wet your lips, touch his face.

“I’m ready.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks, your chin, rubs his nose softly against yours, and you meet for a deep, slow, wet kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Please.” You move your hands to his waist, guide him closer, and he pushes slowly inside, lets you get used to the stretch it brings. It just feels good, not really a new sensation, since you’ve put toys inside before, but he is so much thicker, more satisfying to feel along your sensitive channel, his body warm on top of yours.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, lips grazing yours, and you curl your hand around the back of his neck, just kiss him, enjoy the fullness and the slide of his tongue.

“So good. You can move,” you say, and your voice sounds strained, but it’s with arousal, not discomfort. You hitch your knees up higher, put your hands on his arms, pull him in so he’ll know that. “Want to feel you, Hotch.” You share breath for a few moments, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, repeats it a few times, slow and steady, looking into your eyes.

You moan, carefully roll your hips in time with his, and he pumps inside a little deeper, a little quicker. You grip his arms, move your hands to his face, unsure what part of him you want to touch, anchor yourself against. He leans down for a kiss and you press your fingers to his cheeks, kiss him more passionately, less timidly than you’ve been so far. He groans against your mouth, and you pant as your bodies work together; it’s almost instinctual, the need to take him deeper, to meet, thighs hard against each other.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sliding his hands over your sides, hips, and you nod, gasp when he shifts up, gets his mouth on your breast again, kisses it wetly while his cock glides inside. That’s enough to have you moaning, loudly, head back, your hands on his body now, to feel his muscles flex while he thrusts inside you.

“Hotch, oh. Feels so good, I—” He bites down, lightly, just the edge of his teeth, and your legs snap tight against his body, shaking while you come around him. “Oh, oh. Mmm.” Your muscles contract so hard he grunts, your pussy all but trapping him there, and he grinds against you, grips your thighs.

“So perfect. You feel so good coming for me, so tight.” You ride out the pleasure, rolling your hips against his, and when you’re a little looser he thrusts again, slides an arm behind yours, his hand carefully around the back of your neck, kisses you until he comes, groaning, in your ear.

You look up at him as he gathers himself, wets his lips, and you curl around him for a hug; he holds you tightly, rubs gentle palms over your body, murmurs that you’re incredible and he hopes you know that was special. It's the connection you were looking for, intimacy, and you are so incredibly happy you found it, even if you did find it in the unlikeliest of places.

You lay together for a few minutes before he pulls out, ties off the condom, takes it into the bathroom, and then you go in to pee. You look yourself over in the mirror—again, fully aware that losing your virginity changes almost nothing—but you can’t help feeling like a missing piece has locked into place.

If makes you wonder if the missing piece maybe wasn’t sex, but Hotch.

When you head back into the other room, you expect him to be dressed, or at least getting dressed, but he’s laying back on the bed, covers turned down, body still bare—what you can see of him is bare, anyway, because crisp white sheets cling to his waist, make him look only that much more delicious as he waits for you.

You suddenly ache with desire again, touch your chest at the rush of emotion, of sensation, and then you climb on the bed, slip into his lap, kiss him again. This time it’s different, because your lips and tongue are all saying what you can’t, and it’s intimate, passionate, vulnerable, intense.

Except, maybe you can say it, because he kisses back just as furiously, and it translates into something as strong as what you’re feeling, his hands on your face and lower back holding you close.

“I want you,” he whispers, looking into your eyes, and you’re panting hard, desperate for more. “Not just tonight—I want every night to feel like tonight. I know you weren’t planning for anything more than this, but if you like, maybe I could take you to dinner when we get back. We could see if there’s something more?” He looks nervous, like the offer won’t be well received, but you just nod, smile, lean close for a gentler brush of lips.

“I’d really like that. I don’t want to only feel like this tonight.”

You kiss a little more, softer, sweeter things, eventually moving from his lap to curl against his side; the two of you cuddle, talk—it’s not awkward in the slightest, just feels right, and you drift to sleep warm and content in his arms.

Maybe Miami’s not so bad after all.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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dapandapod · 3 years

Text

A great excuse

Yes, hello ! Welcome to my excuse for kisses at bare shoulders, because i am the somft panda once again. Thank you darlin Kuri for doing the beta, where would i be without you? Please enjoy!

On Ao3

Getting ambushed in the bath is the lowest of low.

Djikstra had invited them into his bath house after a mission accomplished, only to have the witch hunters run a raid after some nutjob preached one thing or another, who the fuck even knows these days.

Point is, the bath house was being raided just as Jaskier and Geralt were stripping down. Undignified.

If Jaskier wasn't so keen on staying hidden, he would sniff loudly to show his contempt.

Somewhere a bit further into the building, he can hear women shrieking and men yelping as they are being ripped out of the steaming waters in all of their nude glories. At least they didn't make it into the water. At least Geralt has time to back them both into a hidden alcove, pressing as close to the cold wall as they possibly could.

Ever the hero, Geralt shields Jaskier from the terrible, terrible wall with its terribly, terribly cold tiles. But the space is incredibly narrow, so their bodies press close together, their bare chests closer than they had ever been while awake.

Geralt's arms are around his waist, Jaskier's arms are pressing against Geralt's sides. The air is warm and humid, but the witcher's skin is hot against his.

Every inhale and exhale has their skin move against each other. Jaskier barely dares to breathe; the way they are pressed together right now makes his breath hit the nape of Geralt's neck.

It is oh so very intimate, and Jaskier's mind is reeling. The witch hunters are the only thing that is keeping him grounded, however that is possible. He can absolutely blame his racing heart on that, and if asked, he will.

They stand close together for a long time, Geralt's hand a solid weight against his lower back, and eventually he can't help but to relax into the hold. It's exhausting to stand stiff as a board, he tells himself. Not worth it.

He lets his head dip forward to rest against Geralt's shoulder. Had the circumstances been different, he would have let his hands wander, dragged his lips and nose across the exposed skin.

Well.

In his heart, his mind, he does. Always.

But this is real life, this is Geralt, and that is not who they are. But as he sighs, relaxing just a little bit more, Geral's hands slide against his back. Changes his grip.

It didn't feel like a hug before, but now, as Geralt adjusts, it fucking does. Holy hells and all the Mothers. Melitele help his racing heart.

The clamor slowly dies down as the Witch hunters either find what they came for, or simply give up. Some loud complaining can still be heard, and heavy boots echo still beyond the changing rooms' doors.

The noise outside is nothing compared to the noise in Jaskier's mind, as he begs every holy entity he can think of, and some unholy ones to boot.

"Are they leaving?" Jaskier whispers, realizing too late that the proximity has his lips touching Geralt's bare skin.

The witcher tenses; were they not pressed so closely together, were it not Geralt but a stranger, Jaskier likely wouldn't have noticed. But it is Geralt, and they are so closely pressed together, and Jaskier needs help.

"Some of them are," Geralt whispers back. It is only the need to be quiet that makes him bend down and press his mouth to Jaskier's ear, Jaskier tells himself. "We need to be quiet."

Jaskier sucks in a ragged breath, closing his eyes. His lashes catch against Geralt's shoulder, as everything on his body fucking does. Up until now, his hands have been closed into fists. Dare he open them? Dare he rest his palms over scarred ribs, feel them expand under his fingers?

Slowly, ever so slowly, he dares. He changes his stance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, slipping closer. It's as good an excuse as any, as he braves it, as he presses his palm against Geralt's ribs, as his lips press into his shoulder.

It isn't a kiss. It is just his mouth pressing into where he is hiding, it is merely Jaskier keeping himself from making other sounds. That's it. Geralt's lips are still pressed against his ear. His hands are still pressed against his back.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, barely a sound. But he doesn't shift them, doesn't break Jaskier's grip.

That is Jaskier's problem, and what a problem it turned out to be. When he leans back, the sound his lips make as they part from the skin sounds like a kiss.

"Hiding," he whispers back, embarrassment flushing him head to toe.

A door slams in the distance, and then another one. The witch hunters are gone, and so is Jaskier's excuse for staying close. He doesn't back up and Geralt doesn't push him away. Not yet.

For a little longer, they are close. For a little longer, they pretend they don't need an excuse.

When things finally change, it is not a parting. It isn't pushing away, no distance being put between bodies. Again, Geralt shifts, one arm properly wrapping around Jaskier's waist, one hand coming up to caress the back of his neck. Ever so slowly, Jaskier dares raise his head, and as he does, Geralt's lips move to his cheek bone.

"Did you kiss my shoulder, Jaskier?" Geralt asks in a murmur and Jaskier can't fight off a shiver.

"You told me to be quiet," Jaskier whispers, and he has used up all his bravery. He can't move, can't do anything but wait for judgment to come.

"So you kissed me?"

"I didn't."

He didn't. He was hiding, that's all.

They stand in tense silence for a few seconds, until it seems Geralt has made up his mind.

"You can."

"I can what?"

"Kiss me."

Jaskier can't breathe. Can't do anything but hear his own heart beating furiously, his mind racing.

Leaning down again, more like tilting his head really, he presses... another kiss into Geralt's skin. When he isn't stopped, he does it again. His fingers curl against Geralt's sides, and he dares, he lets himself press gentle kisses over his collarbone and the nape of his neck. Soft, barely there kisses.

Until Geralt's hand shifts again, tilting his head up, turning him into a pressing of lips.

Soft, gentle, barely there.

His heart stops and starts again. His chest explodes with a million fireworks. His skin tingles with sensations so familiar but so achingly new.

Their lips part and realign. The world has gone around them, cold tiles forgotten, Witcher hunters ignored. The only thing that exists is lips pressed against lips. As the world rights itself, Jaskier pieces himself back together, trading kiss after kiss.

When his lips are sore, slick with spit and swollen red from little nips, Jaskier has to pull back. Instead, he touches their foreheads together, his hands resting against Geralt's chest, over his heart.

"Did you kiss me on the lips, Geralt?"

"You said that is how you keep quiet."

There is not a quiet cell in Jaskier's body, but he can't stop smiling, can't keep from nudging their noses together.

"Silly witcher," he whispers, touching a gentle finger to Geralt's lower lip.

"Silly bard," Geralt counters.

When they finally make their way into the actual bath house, it is mostly deserted. The few remaining customers that were not put out by rude people in armor are soaking in the various pools.

Jaskier and his witcher find one of the more secluded ones. Under the water, their legs tangle while above it, their shoulders bump.

"You know, despite the armed idiots, I think this is the best bath we have had in a while," Jaskier muses, his head resting back against the tiled edge of the pool.

"You are going to write a song about it, aren't you?" Geralt says, their hands finding each other, holding on to each other.

"I might." Jaskier smiles, his eyes closing.

But in his heart, it's already a poem. A poem he has written long ago, words and rhymes that were never meant to be heard. They might be heard now. Another time, another place.

Maybe when they crawl into bed tonight, as sleep claims them. Maybe he will press them into Geralt's shoulder, maybe he will whisper it into his skin. Maybe then, he'll let Geralt know.

For now, he will enjoy his witcher's company. For now, he will compose silly limericks and filthy jokes, as their fingers interlace under the water and his witcher's smile lights up the room.

#geraskier #bath house time #cuddling for cover #that is a great fucking tag #anyway they are hiding #the witcher #accidental cuddling is a tag on ao3 #it makes sense to me #i mean look at them #not that you can see them because they are hiding #shoulder kisses #geralt x jaskier #dapanda writes

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xpeachesncream · 4 years

Note

hi my dearest nikki <3, for Valentines season, Idk if someone already requested this but I wanted a Tae x y/n vacation somewhere abroad with some spicy steamin' lovemaking and a marriage proposal perhaps? hahaha i am forever in love with these two and your playlist in PW is my everyday playlist,just a tmi :)

perfectly wrong | drabble [12]: when the love is real, and right.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, sweet taehyung, unprotected soft sex as you try and cater to your man, straddling, some breast play, nothing too bad really - this drabble is meant to be cute af! (highly recommend music linked above lol)

note: imma make ya’ll cry with this one. lmfao, jk 😂 please don’t cry! happy valentines, loves! you are all beautiful and strong ❤️ you’ve come so far, please don’t ever give up! keep on keepin’ on, baby! i’ll always be here rooting for you!

update: please read this announcement!

School graciously provided another week of freedom in February, which so happened to fall right by Valentine's day. You were excited to relax and sleep in, be lazy with Taehyung and do absolutely nothing.

Except, not. Because all of a sudden, your man is rushing into your apartment, telling you to pack your things so you could make it in time for your flight later that evening.

"We gotta go, love." He pulls the luggage out of your closet and starts throwing your undies and bras from your drawer into it.

"Taehyung, please. What are you doing?" You looked over your covers, too lazy to move and do anything about it right now. You watched as he started rummaging through your pajamas and your socks, for whatever reason. "Tae, hello?"

"Come on, you need to pack. We have a flight to catch."

"Says who?"

"Says me." He smiles toothlessly, his bread cheeks poking out from either of his face as he holds up two airline tickets. Because you have terrible eyesight, you can't even make out the destination on the tickets and you don't even try to. It would be useless.

"Where are we going? I thought we were just going to stay home all week."

"I mean, that's always nice, but I saw that flights were cheap so I just bought 'em."

"So you just bought 'em? Really?"

"Miss girl, I don't have time to answer all of your questions right now. I can do that on the flight." He tilts his head and starts motioning for you to get up. "Come on, pretty please? It'll be worth it, I promise." You slightly whine, but you get up anyways and start to get ready for whatever this was. You throw on some comfy sweats and Taehyung's hoodie, then begin to pack your things. He says it's a tropical area [but 'not really,' he also says?], it's mainly humid and you'll be going into the water majority of the time. So, you pack a few bathing suits, a few light kimono type cardigans, shorts, crop tops and light jackets and call it a day. You've left whatever pajamas, underwear, socks and bras Taehyung had throw into your luggage cause at this point, you've learned that he does pay attention to what you pack and bring along.

And so that's what happened before you found yourself in a 1-bedroom Villa overlooking the ocean in Disney Aulani 8 hours later. You began to think this was planned all along, being that Taehyung had snagged a fancy room, with an ocean view and a fat bouquet of roses just waiting for you on the king-sized bed. Happy was an understatement.

Taehyung had made sure your entire week was filled with things to do, being that you both didn't know when you could go back to Hawaii like this. He rented out a jeep, driving you around the entire island of Oahu within the week's time, sight seeing, taking tons of pics together, stopping at food trucks, shopping small towns, and pulling random, small hikes together. He even made sure to take you to the Dole Plantation so you could grab that dole whip you had been raving about for so long and to the flea market to grab tons of cheap, fun souvenirs. He knew just what you liked, and he knew what would make you happy. He was happy to see you happy. Some days also were more lowkey, where you'd spend it at the various pools in Aulani's backyard, going snorkeling or paddle boarding, or even just going down the street at the ABC Convenience Store to binge on the cheap hot food [like $2 spam masubis!] and milk tea.

If it was easy to just snap your fingers and live somewhere else with Tae, it would be right here. Days moved so slowly on the island and you loved every minute of it. People really appreciated taking things slow here. Just imagining your life with Taehyung on an island like Oahu was *chef's kiss* - imagining your man in his shorts and fluffy hair in a loose shirt, waking up to the sounds of the beach every day. God damn. You truly loved him, and you'd go anywhere with him.

And Taehyung felt the same exact way, which is why he had one last thing planned before it was time to head back.

He had gone downstairs to grab some things as he says, but he had asked you to get dressed so he could take you on a fancy, romantic dinner. He had thrown on some slacks and a button up short-sleeved shirt tucked in, his curls messy but also not? Whatever you call it, he was fine as hell and you wanted nothing but to eat him up. Truthfully. You sat on the couch in a simple black, off the shoulder, mesh-like dress, which Taehyung also wanted nothing but to eat you up with the way you were swaying your hips in that dress. On everything, he almost wanted to call dinner quits just so he could have you instead.

But, he needed to stick to the plan for specific reasons. You sat on the couch, flipping through the channels when Taehyung had walked in and straight into the room. He had something tucked under his arm but you couldn't figure out what else he was fiddling with in his hands. Then, you heard him on the phone, faintly responding behind the walls with a 'sounds good, thank you!' before he opened the room door with a smile on his face.

"Ready for dinner?"

"Sure, weirdo." You laughed as you walked towards him, getting on your tippytoes to plant a kiss on his lips. He took your hand and led you inside the room, only for you to see the balcony lit with candles and a table for two set up, with a simple rose in the middle as decoration and soft music playing in the background. You had placed your hand over your mouth, speechless as to how he even did this right under your nose.

The best part [besides Tae himself] was the view of the ocean with the sun slowly setting in front of you.

"Welcome to Maison de Taehyung." He giggled with that deep, nerdy giggle of his that you love so much, making you playfully shove him away. Before you could make your way to the balcony, there was a knock on the door. Taehyung had welcomed Room Service in, allowing them to wheel in the food to the balcony and set the rest of the finishing touches before leaving you both to your privacy.

"Baaaaabe." You whined, almost in tears. He pulls you close, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he plants a kiss on your forehead. Your nose. Your lips. The butterflies.

He leads the way, pulling out your chair before sitting himself down. The food was amazing, the main course being a specialty the chef had whipped up just for Taehyung pulling his charm downstairs with the front desk. Typical Tae, really. You didn't need dessert, being that the main dish was super filling, but you ate it anyways because fuck it - you're in Hawaii with the love of your life and it was a bomb ass chocolate cake. You don't skip on that.

You sit on the bed as room service is quickly cleaning out the balcony, taking the plates and the table cloth along with them. You were full and satisfied, and you couldn't wait to just be in bed in Tae's arms. Dinner was special because not only did you get to eat this food with that view, but you got to talk to Tae about everything and anything. He indulged in every minute of it, giving you his undivided attention while the colors of the sunset bounced off of your skin. He loved you more than you even knew. He loved that he was here with you, and that you had taken a chance on him because this is where he wanted to be. This is the life he wanted, and this is the person he wanted to share it with.

"I'll be right back, baby."

"What are you up to now?" You giggled.

"Mmm, it's probably best you just wait." You nod silently as you watch him walk out of the room.

You stepped out into the balcony again in hopes of Tae joining you when he gets back, getting the last few bits of the sun right before it sunk into the horizon. Your phone began to buzz in your hands, signaling a call coming in.

"Jeon Jungkook." You answer his facetime call.

"Let me see Hawaii."

"You're too late, the sun literally just went down." He clicks his teeth.

"Maaaan. I would have liked an invite."

"Don't get mad at me fool, I didn't even know we had a flight until Taehyung busted into my room trying to pack my things." He laughs.

"What a guy."

"What do you want?"

"Jeez, that's no way to talk to your bestfriend."

"I'm on vacation, you should be lucky I didn't send your ass to voicemail. What do you want?"

"I just wanna talk to you guys. I'm bored."'

"Where's Hobi and Yoongs?"

"Being boring at their own homes."

"Jin?"

"Cafe."

"Jimin and Namjoon?"

"Jimin is home, Namjoon is downtown."

"Then sucks to suck, loner."

"You're a real piece of work, even in Hawaii." You laugh. "Where's Tae?"

"I don't know, he ran off again. He's been busy trying to surprise me with things left and right."

"Has he now?" Jungkook bites his bottom lip, knowing full well what's about to happen next. The whole reason Taehyung stepped out was to call him and calm his nerves. Was this Taehyung's bestfriend, or yours?

"Yeah, he's the best." You say, smiling to yourself as you fiddle with the top portion of your dress. You hear the front door close, assuming Taehyung had gotten back from whatever he was doing. "Uh, I think he's back, I should--"

"No, can't you just talk to me for like 5 minutes, Y/N?"

"Why are you so needy?" You chuckled.

"I just told you I was bored. I wanna say hi to Tae."

"Well when he comes here, I'll let you say hi."

"What else did you guys do today?"

"Uh, we took it pretty easy and played around at the beach."

"Cute."

"Baby, can you help me find something?" You hear Taehyung's voice right behind you.

"Sure." You say, keeping your eyes on Jungkook, who's chuckling to himself. You furrowed your brows at the camera. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Go help him."

"Okay, hold on." You say, putting the phone down by your hip. You turned, only to jump back in surprise. "Taehyung!" You gasped, your hand over your mouth. Taehyung had been behind you the whole time, his 100 watt smile shining as he bent down on one knee, holding out a small case that held a fancy diamond ring.

"Look, you know I'm pretty bad with speeches but I think you already know how you make me feel. I just, I--" He did a slight head tilt as he chuckled and took another deep breath. "I really, really love you, Y/N. It's always been you. You've become my better half and I truly can't see my life without you." You begin to cry heavily, forgetting Jungkook is still hanging on to dear life by your hip. It all makes sense now.

Why the hell would Jungkook call you at this time?

"Will you spend the rest of your life with me?" He asks, tears welling up in his eyes watching you cry in front of him. Your words can't escape your mouth because you really don't even know what to say. You're speechless, and you didn't even expect this to happen right at this moment. You knew you loved him, and you knew you were set with him. But to have him propose on a night like this in Hawaii? Unbelievable.

You nod and he shakily slips the ring onto your ring finger before you wrap your arms around his neck tightly as he hugs you. You pulled back to kiss him, only to be startled by all the screaming coming from your phone. Taehyung laughs as he holds you and watches you bring the phone back up to your view, seeing Jimin, Namjoon, Hobi, Yoongi and Jin all in one frame with Kook.

"You fucking liar!" You yell at Kook, making him laugh his loud, elmo laugh.

"We love youuuuuuuuu!" Jimin yells from his position, with Jin blowing kisses into the frame.

"You planned this all along." You turn and say to Taehyung softly. He just nods and shrugs, making you bite your bottom lip as to how attractive he was for pulling all of this shit right under your nose. "I'm gonna have to call you guys back later."

"Ooooooh, ew." Yoongi says before you abruptly hang up the call and jump into Tae's arms.

He brings you into the room, you tossing your phone onto the dresser, causing Taehyung to laugh into the kiss. He sits on the edge of the bed as you grip his face softly, your tongues fighting each other for dominance as the kiss intensifies. You feel his hands start to unzip your dress from the back, causing you to bite his bottom lip and gently pull back. He lets out a small moan as he fiddles with the rest of your zipper and successfully gets the dress to fall from your shoulders, exposing your breasts from underneath. You arch your back slightly, allowing Taehyung to plant kisses down your neck and to your breasts, using his tongue to toy with each nipple one by one. He sucks on it gently, pulling back with a pop before he blows onto them, goosebumps rippling through your body. You quickly unbutton his shirt as he's kissing your neck, causing you to let out a small hiss feeling his tongue against your skin.

It doesn't take long before both of your clothes are scattered across one side of the room, Tae holding you close as you continue to straddle him. You grind your hips into his, feeling his hardened member rub against your throbbing pussy.

"Fuck." He whispers. "I can feel how wet you are." You bite onto your bottom lip as you position yourself onto his hardened member and slowly sink yourself down. You watch as his head tilts backwards, eyes shut while his mouth is slightly opened to let out a moan. You began to slowly rock your hips into his, his arms wrapping tightly around you. You loved feeling his warm skin against yours and his strong arms holding you close. "Baby." He moans. "God, I love you." He says as you start to pick up your pace, rocking your hips a little quicker.

"Nnnnng--Tae." You let out a breathy moan, tilting your head back in pleasure. Your back slightly arches along with it, allowing Tae to let his hands roam up your back while he kissed you softly along your chest, down to your stomach and back up to your breasts. He loved every bit of you, and he wanted to show you. Every. Single. Inch.

"If you keep moving like that, you're gonna make me cum." He whispers, nibbling onto your earlobe while his hands guide you, pushing you to ride him faster. In which, you do. You grant your man's wishes and pick up the pace quite a bit. The least you could do is cater to him after what he's done for you this week. He's moaning your name, calling you baby and whispering how special you are to him in your ear, making it incredibly difficult for you to keep holding on while he does so. "You're so beautiful."

"Babe, I'm close." Your nose is touching his, his eyes locked onto yours. "Fuck, babe. I'm gonna cum." You whine the more your hips are working his cock. You feel every inch of him inside of you, tickling your core enough to send you hurdling over the edge in a matter of minutes. "Ohhhh, fuck!" You yell, your body tensing up as he holds you close with your hands tangled in his hair. It's not long before he fills you up, your walls pulsating around his member being the cherry on top for him.

"Mmmmmshit! Baaaaby." He elongates his moan, no other noises coming out of him as the sensation completely takes over his body. You wrap your arms around his neck while regulating your breathing, his member beginning to soften within you.

"I love you." You whisper in his ear.

"I love you too, fiancé." He says, causing you to giggle as he places a kiss on your shoulder before allowing you to get up and get cleaned up.

So, we're really doing this thing, huh?

This thing called life with Kim Taehyung.

Absolutely, yes. 100%.

You'd do it over and over again, just as long as he was by your side.

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong #perfectly wrong drabbles #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff #taehyung smut #bts smut #kim taehyung smut #kth smut

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years

Text

Hot and Bothered, CH. 1

Reader-chan is in a poly relationship with Hawks and Dabi, who may or may not be with the League of Villains. Use your imagination for that. Viewer discretion is advised.

Content: bondage/rope play, slight choking, slight degradation, oral, cock warming

Ch. 1 / Ch.2

---080---

Your muscles were aching during the final lap. You woke up this morning nearly at the crack of dawn to get your daily run in before it got hot. Boy, were you surprised that it didn’t matter what time of day you started your jog. It was going to be warm, sticky, and humid all day. You realized that too late but pushed yourself to be active. Despite having cut your run time in half, you were a sweaty mess by the time you swung open the front door.

You quickly chucked off your socks and sneakers before heading towards the kitchen. Without hesitation, you opened the freezer door and shoved your head inside. A groan escaped you as the cold air blasted you. Last time you checked, Dabi was still asleep, so he wouldn’t come out of bed until at least noon, if not later. He was a heavy sleeper, and anything short of the apocalypse wouldn’t do the trick. You hadn’t seen Hawks for about an hour and assumed he’d flown off to perform his morning shift on patrol. You saw him making a cup of coffee just before you left for you jog.

Juggling two lovers, your job as a freelance writer, and an active lifestyle was difficult at first. Once the kinks (no pun intended) were worked out, things slowly fell into place. You had your face smooshed on a packet of frozen peas when your heard footsteps encroaching towards the kitchen. At first, you thought it was Dabi breaking out of his daily routine of not getting out of bed until the afternoon. As you listened more closely, the footsteps couldn’t have been his. They were lighter and more—shall we say—peppier? A pair of arms wrapped around your stomach.

“Don’t be wasting my electricity, doll. You’ll let food spoil if you keep it up.”

You were surprised. You turned your head to look over your shoulder to find Keigo in nothing but his baggy sweatpants. Just like you left him. Keigo pulled you close, your ass pressed firmly against his groin. He shut the freezer door at the first opportunity and nuzzled the side of your neck.

“Keigo! Don’t! I’m gross and sweaty. I just came back from my jog. Shouldn’t you be at work, anyway?”

“I got somebody to cover for me this morning. This means,” Keigo moved his lips to your ear and whispered, “You guys get to enjoy me all day long.”

You shuddered as his teeth nibbled on your lobe. You jutted his stomach with your elbow.

“I’m serious, Keigo. I’m not the mood. I just came in, and it’s super sticky out there. I just want some water and cool down.”

His gentle yet playful smile put you off guard. Before you could reach for the fridge door, Keigo beat you to it. He pulled out a cold-water bottle. Instinctually, you reached out for it. However, he had other plans in mind. You watched him unscrew the top and take a gulp of water. You were about to scream in protest when he mashed his lips on top of yours. Coldwater trickled down your throat and your chin. Keigo took another long drag from the plastic bottle and repeated the process. He made you drink from him until your shirt was a bigger mess. There was already a sweat stain down the middle of your tank top. Now you had a droplet going down to your teeny, tiny shorts. After each drink he gave you, Keigo licked your lips. He was begging for your attention. Wantonly, you whined as he kissed you on the mouth, no water this time. He turned you into a sloppy mess.

His fingers dug under your top; his nails dragged ever so slightly against your already hot skin. Keigo glued his mouth to yours. Letting his hands wandered over your flat stomach, he guided you into the living room when you were distracted by his tongue tangling with yours. He released you for a moment. Just long enough to ditch your tank top. Your sports bra was shoved up to your clavicle, thus exposing your breasts to his greedy eyes, hands, and mouth. He stared at your chest for a moment. It seemed like he waited for the beet red blush to spread from your cheeks to your neck before swooping in for the attack. One hand groped your breast, and his mouth teased the other without mercy.

Your eyes made a pre-cautionary glance towards the hall. There seemed to be no sound coming from your bedroom where Dabi, presumably, lay sleeping. If he caught you together doing something nasty without him, there was hell to pay. Dabi always looked for reasons to punish the two of you. Keigo was pressing his luck.

“K-Keigo, we shouldn’t be doing this!”

He chuckled. His eyes never left yours as he gave your nipple a kitten lick. You knew that he was a switch. If Dabi entered the room, that predatory stare he pinned you with would vanish. Keigo closed his eyes only for a second and opened them again just to watch you watching him take your breast into his mouth as suck as hard as he could. You had to put your hand over your mouth to prevent the piggish squeal escape from your throat and alert Dabi to the goings-on in the living room.

Keigo switched places. He started to give your wet nipple tweaks and tugs while sucking on the other. You shivered to the point of coming just from that. He must have sensed how close to the edge you were when he stopped. You managed to suck in some air during the brief reprieve. You looked down and saw the tent in Keigo’s pants.

“Turn around,” he said.

“What? No. If Dabi finds out—”

Slap.

You should be infuriated that he had the nerve to clap you on the ass cheek when you were in the middle of talking.

“Turn. Around.”

You didn’t disobey him this time. You turned, bent over, and put your hands on the sofa’s arm. Keigo chuckled behind her. His hands slipped down to your hips. Thumbs dipped underneath your shorts and edged them down along with your panty. You weren’t about to give him everything he wanted, so you clamped your thighs close together. It was hard to manage to begin with now were you were a hot mess. Both literally and figuratively.

“Good girl. I didn’t even ask you to bend over yet, and you did it all of your own accord. That of itself deserves a reward.” He kicked your legs apart.

You couldn’t see him fumbled with the tie around his waist to help ease his pants down far enough to pull out his engorged cock. One hand cupped your ass while he occupied his other hand by rubbing the shaft. You felt the head of him teasing that soaked bundle of nerves. You bit your tongue to keep from begging. Only two thoughts monopolized your mind. One, you really wanted Keigo to fuck you. Two, you wondered what would happen if Dabi caught the two of you going at in the living room. The thrill of getting caught breaking a house rule sent a pleasurable chill down your spine. It almost made it worth to risk punishment from the man who lived to dole them out.

Keigo’s head pressed into your slick center while you were distracted by your own thoughts. He pushed and pulled away, never once giving you the whole thing. You whined; he laughed at you for it.

“A second ago, you wanted to quit while we were ahead. Now, look at you. You want it, don’t ‘cha?”

He shoved his cock halfway inside your smooth opening, but it wasn’t enough. He listened to your whine.

“Beg for it,” he growled. “Like you mean it.”

Slowly, Keigo pulled out until the head of his cock remained inside you. He let it stay there until you gave him what he wanted.

“D-Dammit, Hawks,” you knew he loved it when you used his hero name in the bedroom. “Fuck me already. P-please.”

“Since you asked so sweetly…”

You screamed into the pillow as he shoved himself all the way in. He made you dizzy from it, and having him thrust hard and fast made it worse. His nails dug into your hips. He gripped you hard while his cock sank deep into you. Your teeth clenched tight around the pillow. Saliva coated the rim of your mouth and the pillow.

“I couldn’t—ah—help myself when I saw you with your—fuck—ass sticking out like that. I don’t get…to have you all to myself nowadays. So,” he moaned, “Let’s enjoy this while we’ve got time alone together.”

Keigo pounded away at you. The sounds of wet flesh slapping together resounded. It was enough to almost tip you over the edge. His hands gripped you even tighter.

“Fuck! You fit like a glove, baby-doll.”

You should have warned him about keeping it down. At least you covered your mouth. Not that it did much good. Your pathetic cries were still audible, and you’d be grateful if Dabi’s heavy-sleeper habits failed you not. Keigo’s thrusts came in rapid succession, pulling and pushing you with him. The intensity of his movements was sure to rearrange your guts like it was his fucking job. All sense of heroism flew out the window when he was inside you.

In. Out. In. Out. In…

“K-Keigo,” you moaned into the pillow.

“Hold on a little longer…Ha-ah. A little more.”

A little more came later than he said. You lost all sense of time while he was drilling you. White heat seared down your spine. You panted as you clenched around him. You felt liquid running down your thighs, and the sloshing sound increased. Keigo’s thrusts became erratic and helped spiral you towards another cliff. You came a second time while he painted your insides white. Your torso collapsed against the sofa’s arm. As soon as Keigo let go, your legs buckled underneath. You vaguely heard a faucet run. Keigo returned and gently wiped away the evidence of your mutual crime. He helps you fix your clothes before pulling his pants back up.

“Now, why don’t you hop in the shower while I make breakfast.”

Just on schedule, Dabi didn’t get out of bed until around one o’clock. You were thankful Keigo decided not to be a cheeky dick and ask him if he heard anything unusual this morning. Dabi wasn’t fully awake. He knocked back at least two mugs of coffee, and even after that, he was barely a functional human being. It was supposed to be a lazy day with Keigo home to play video games with you and Dabi. There was nothing out of the ordinary about dinner, though Dabi kept looking between you and Keigo. The only thing odd about the evening was when Dabi actively helped clear the table.

Keigo stepped into his office for about an hour to answer a business-related phone call. You watched Dabi closely, guilt churning in your gut. You noticed how Dabi lounged on the couch with his arm on the couch’s. The same spot where you gripped while Keigo plowed you this morning. His lazily scrolled through his phone, and his fingers drummed a slow beat on the couch’s arm. You nervously sat on the other side of the couch, trying to distract yourself by the T.V. Keigo finally came out of his office in the middle of some random romantic comedy you stumbled into.

“I’m heading to bed soon. Anybody joining me?”

“I need a shower first” You jumped off the couch and ran to the bathroom.

You ran the shower cold. You hoped to wash away this morning with Keigo and the fear of Dabi. You didn’t know how long you’d been standing in there, hoping that the day would just be over when you heard a moan. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising; either Dabi or Keigo was getting a head start. If you didn’t get in the bedroom soon, you’d be late for the play.

You walked into the bedroom in your towel only to find Keigo already tied to the bedposts with some familiar red rope. Dabi was busy between Keigo’s legs, sucking him off. Keigo’s face was red as the ropes that bound him. Dabi had him tied with his back entirely against the bed’s headboard to spare pressure on his wings. Dabi still had his mouth full when Keigo turned a pair of hazy eyes towards you.

“H-He found out a-after all—SHIT!”

Dabi gave him a long, languishing suck and gently scraped his teeth along the edges. Your thighs clamped together as you felt the first wave pool in your core. Dabi lavished Keigo’s cock with smooth kisses and tongue lashes. Only after you’d been standing there dumb as a post for a solid five minutes did he acknowledge your presence in the room. He licked his lips wet with Keigo’s pre-cum.

“If it isn’t the other troublemaker.” In slow motion, Dabi got off the bed. “Wanna remind me what the house rule is, princess? What agreed to do to each is only fair when we’re together?”

A blush crept over your cheeks. You tried not to stare at Dabi’s black pants hanging loose on his hips or the bulge forming in the center of them. You bent your head down to stare at your feet, trying to look as guilty as possible. Your hopes were that he would find you pathetic enough to grant a gentle reprieve from the punishment he seemed to have in mind. His hand grabbed your jaw and forced your head back up. His fingers and thumb squeezed your cheeks nearly to the point of bruising.

“I’m not such a heavy sleeper to be unable to hear two needy sluts fucking each other without my permission. I know you didn’t start it, princess. A sweet little girl like you? No. Never.”

He yanked the towel from your body and pointed towards the bed.

“I wanna see your best reverse cowgirl. I want you to put it slowly.”

You crawled on top of the bed and over Keigo’s shapely legs. You did as you were told. You stroked Keigo’s cock before sliding it in just as Dabi wanted. You let out a breathy moan as Keigo’s cock bottomed out. You didn’t dare move outside of Dabi’s commands, which hadn’t instructed on what next to do. You watched him walk towards you but never touched the bed. His thumb rubbed your lower lip.

“You two…” said Dabi after a torturous moment of silence. “Are going to stay like that until I say otherwise. I want you to think about our house rules and why they exist. If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come.”

Dabi shucked his pants down to the floor, kicking them away with his feet. His boxers went with them. One hand snaked behind your neck, slithered into your hair, and grabbed a fistful, bringing your head down to his swollen cock. His other hand went to your throat as he forced himself down. He made you swallow his cock, all while keeping a light constriction on your throat.

“You sounded so…needy this morning. You were begging for cock like the little cum slut you are.” He released your hair and grabbed it again. “You were so busy having fun that you didn’t think about little old’ me. How selfish.”

Instead of letting you bob your head, Dabi pushed his cock to the back of your throat and out again. Drool pooled around your chin as it dribbled beneath you. You let the tears flow while he fucked your throat. The feeling was always so incredible having two holes stuffed, but only one of them was giving you any pleasure. Dabi’s cock was long and thick, and the metal rivets from his piercings hit the right places, whether in your cunt or being shoved against the roof of your mouth. The restrictive grasp on your throat made it all the more pleasurable.

“Moan louder, I know you want to.” He let go of your neck and placed his hands on either side of your head to make fucking your throat easier.

It was a delicious order you couldn’t resist performing. You moaned loudly around him as he moved back and forth. His movements were becoming erratic, the faster he moved. Any moment now, Dabi would shoot his load down your throat, and you, the willing victim, would be more than happy to take it all.

But that’s not what he wanted.

Dabi tightened his grip on your head as the end was coming soon. You felt his balls tighten as they slapped your chin. All of a sudden, Dabi pulled out all the way. You thought he was going to come on your chest. He liked to mention how good your tits looked with his cum decorating your chest. Instead, he turned and spent himself all over Keigo’s chest.

He smirked at the mess he made of each of you. Sweat was gleaming down your brows. Though you couldn’t see him, you felt Keigo twitch nervously. He yanked at the ropes that bound him, but they held good. The best he could do was shift his weight a little. His cock twitched inside you just from watching Dabi fuck your face and finish on his chest. Dabi bent from the waist and picked up your abandoned towel.

“I think I’ll freshen up a bit before we get started again,” said Dabi.

“Wait, what about us?” Said Keigo.

Dabi paused in the door. He stood in the doorway buck naked and with all the confidence in the world. He made one grin at you two. You knew neither of you would be getting much sleep tonight. Not with that shit-eating grin on Dabi’s face.

“Control yourselves, and don’t move until I get back. Then, I’ll give you a nice reward. This’ll teach you.”

---080---

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #smut #reader fic #dabi #dabi x reader #hawks #keigo takami #keigo #hawks x reader #dabi x reader x hawks #hotwings #minors begone

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walviemort · 3 years

Text

hidden blessing (7/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah’s death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It’s not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he’s carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.)

a/n: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life and all that. But hopefully there will be less gap between this and the next ones, and hope it was worth the wait!

To Killian’s surprise, part of Emma’s plan of preparation was rest; she was pointedly looking at him when she made the suggestion, and honestly, he’d been too relieved at the idea to say anything against it. Even more shockingly, Regina agreed, and for the first time since they’d set foot in this accursed land, Killian finally felt rested; even the nausea had abated, though he was sure it wouldn’t last long.

What did concern him, however, was the sound of David struggling once they finally set off toward Pan’s camp. Snow teased him, but Killian was worried that his brush with the Lost One’s arrow had been far too close.

And then, of course, Pan moved the camp—in the opposite direction that they’d been moving. As usual, Regina was quick to blame him and call for the use of magic. Which was a terrible idea, and he told her so, but did give him another.

“How are we going to find it?” she sniped.

“By using someone he trusts,” he replied, patience waning.

“Who?” David challenged. “Because I guess he certainly doesn't trust you.”

He’d never gain ground with David, would he? “A fairy who lived here when I was about,” he explained, ignoring the jab. “She might still be on the island. She'd be an inside source, knows all about the camp, can get us in. She might even have some pixie dust left. Perhaps we could fly in.”

In the continuation of their hot-and-cold relationship, David supported the idea—and Emma apparently discovered another person she knew to be fictional was real. If he ended up raising this child in Storybrooke, he’d have to be sure to keep such tales far away from them.

They redirected, but David was flagging. And Killian hated that he knew why.

It took some prodding, but David eventually was convinced to show Killian his injury, lifting his shirt just enough to expose his lower abdomen. The more hormonal part of Killian was slightly jealous of the man’s not only flat, but incredibly well toned stomach, briefly mourning the loss of his own, but it gave way to dread: there was a long, shallow slice along David’s side, and black veins were already spreading from the cut.

And yet, David still tried to argue that “The arrow only nicked me.”

But Killian had seen enough brushes with the vile poison to know what lay ahead. The sight turned his stomach, dredging up painful memories. But the stubborn prince wouldn’t heed his advice to tell his family.

“Pixie dust,” David insisted was the answer. “You believe in this Tinker Bell's power? In her pixie dust?”

“Indeed, I do.” Tink had never given him reason not to. (Though, to be fair, most of their interactions were a bit more physical than verbal, and with the way the slightest thing had him aroused right now, he didn’t dare wander down that path of memory.)

“Then let's get her and that dust.”

It was hard to argue with that.

Her treehouse was still in the same spot; given his familiarity, he headed up first, only to find it empty. (Although still far too familiar; memories of one particular night spent in that hammock definitely stirred some things he hadn’t wanted stirred. Bloody hormones.)

Thankfully his pants were still loose enough to hide anything he didn’t want shown as the rest of the crew joined him in the treehouse, although their search came up empty.

Well, not entirely—while Emma and Snow were reminiscing on the hovel’s resemblance to some places they’d lived, David uncovered a handkerchief. Of Regina’s.

He should have known Tink would be steps ahead of them; she usually was.

Thankfully, she hadn’t caused Regina any harm—and Emma managed to convince her to join them. He wasn’t really surprised—Emma clearly had that way with lost souls such as themselves—though he had assumed his own rapport with the fairy would be required.

(He was pleased, however, that Tink was not averse to his flirtations, even if she was no longer the main object of them.)

Their shared history meant she could read him too well, though. On the trek back to their campsite, she sidled up to him. “So who knocked you up?” she bluntly whispered.

How the hell could she tell? Not that it really mattered, he supposed. “First time you’ve seen me in 30 years and that’s your first question?”

“Well, you weren’t the last time I saw you. Oh god—it wasn’t me, was it?”

He chuckled. “No, lass, it was not.” He had a keen memory for these things and he and Tink, despite the numerous positions they explored, never managed the specific one required for conception. “And actually, I was when you last saw me; I just didn’t know it yet.”

The moment of realization was visible on her face. “Oh my goodness. Then let me say congratulations.”

“Thanks, love.”

She then punched him in the shoulder. “You better be damn careful.”

“Bloody hell; that doesn’t exactly help.”

She helped them gather up some coconuts to share before settling in for the night (or whatever part of day it was; his circadian rhythm was definitely off, and his random bouts of fatigue didn’t help). After they’d passed them around, he sat down and was starting to notch a hole in one with his hook when Emma took a seat next to him.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” she asked quietly. “Stomach feeling alright and everything?”

He was speechless for a moment; despite her previous admission, he was surprised she cared. But her green eyes were staring him down, demanding an answer. “Aye; nothing too bad today; thank you for asking.” He broke through to the hollow core of the coconut and handed it to Emma. She took a sip and smiled.

“Damn, that’s good. I didn’t just take yours, did I?” He replied by grabbing another one and holding it aloft. “Good. You need to stay hydrated.”

“I’m aware, doctor.”

She snorted at that and took another sip, but then her smile drifted away as she swallowed. “So, uh, you seemed to know Tink pretty well.”

“Aye, you could say that; we go back quite far.”

“Were you two—is she—?” Emma stammered, then nodded toward his midsection. He had to bite back a laugh.

“Yes and no,” he answered. “We did know each other intimately, but not that intimately.”

She adorably scrunched her face in confusion, then shrugged. “Okay, I was just curious. You still need to explain all that to me, but not tonight.”

“No, not tonight; you better rest up.”

“You too, okay?”

“Aye, captain.”

She rolled her eyes, but stood and headed back toward where her parents sat. The longer he spent in her presence, the more he felt it when she left. This was definitely not the time or place to be warring with those feelings, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was mature enough to set them aside and focus on the bigger picture—saving Henry and escaping this cursed realm—but bloody hell was it difficult.

The near-constant flutters within began their tiny dance again; he hoped the way his hand rested on his belly was perceived as casual. Feeling that was yet another reminder of his goals here: to make it out alive for the sake of the babe, and let no harm come to them.

He was allowed to have some fun along the way, though—right?

-------------------------------------------

Of course, those moments were few and far between. The next day brought Tink’s uncomfortable reminder that they’d yet to figure out a way out of Neverland, and led them chasing ghosts across the island as he brought them to Bae’s old hideaway.

He had never let the lad know that he was aware of its location. Or that he’d been keeping an eye on him ever since he left the Roger. That was still his greatest regret, and he hoped no one noticed the tears brimming at his eyes as he moved to uncover the entrance to Bae’s cave.

Deflection usually helped; he did find a brief moment to engage Emma, but David stepped in before she could reply. It was hard to tell if it was fatherly protection or pure stubbornness against his own fate that was the motivation. Of course, David didn’t want to hear another lecture about his situation as they opened the cave, but he got one anyway; perhaps this pregnancy was elevating Killian’s already intense protective instincts, but the man’s insistence on hiding his condition was infuriating and heartbreaking.

Honestly, the only thing that kept him back from really tearing into David was Emma calling out for him from the cave. His heart gave a leap at that, one that was clearly distinguishable from the rolling of his stomach that typically accompanied nausea, and he headed in with one last glance at David. He could deal with him later, but he’d not leave a lady waiting.

“What is this place? What are we doing here?” she demanded impatiently, trying to make out anything in the dark of the cave. Ever one for the dramatic reveal, Killian headed straight to a waiting torch on the back wall and quickly made to light it with his flint against his hook. At least, he had hoped it would be quickly, but the ever present humidity made that difficult; and then David was again pushing him aside with some firestarter from his realm. Bloody hell, was that man stubborn. But it had the desired effect, and Emma quickly realized where they were. “Neal,” she said on a breath, studying the chalk drawings that covered nearly every surface. “This is where he lived.”

“Aye,” he confirmed. “Baelfire spent some time in Neverland as a boy. This was his home.” His eyes were immediately drawn to a reproduction of the port and starboard coordinates that were still etched into the Jolly Roger’s helm, sending a wave of guilt and sadness through him.

The group wasted no time in beginning to search for a clue as to how Bae had left; clearly, it had been in a rush. And if Killian used it as an excuse to hover around Emma...well, that was his business.

“Anything important?” he asked as she inspected the wall.

“I can't tell yet. I didn't know he liked drawing.”

“He got it from his mother,” Killian found himself blurting out; it was also easy to see Milah’s influence in Bae’s style, and his hand immediately fluttered to his belly on instinct. Emma gave him a sympathetic half smile, but then turned her attention back to the task at hand—and in the process, discovered the way off...partly.

It was a rather ingenious device, he had to admit: a star map hidden in a coconut. Practical and creative; he couldn’t help the rush of pride he felt when he explained it to the group.

“Then you can read it,” Regina stated, uncharacteristically hopeful. Which made the next part all the harder.

“Sadly, no.” Because of course, Bae had made sure to encode the coordinates in a manner that only he could read.

“Which means the only person who can read it is dead,” Emma summarized, clearly upset. She tossed the map aside and hurried out of the cave in a fluster. Her parents tried to follow, but didn’t get far before she told them she needed space.

Kililan only waited a minute before following.

She was only a few yards outside the cave entrance, forearm pressed against a tree as she stared at the ground and, most likely, was trying not to express any undesired emotion.

“You alright, love?” he said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

She huffed. “No, not really. Just one step forward and three back, every fucking day.”

She continued to rant without any input from him—about the jungle, about Pan, about missing Henry, and her mixed feelings toward Bae. And it became abundantly clear to Killian that she needed a respite (he certainly could use one, too).

He knew just the place, too. “Swan, can I show you something?”

“Is it another way off the island?”

“Afraid not, but I think it’s what you need right now.”

She sighed, mildly defeated (which was still as much as he’d ever seen from her), but nodded.

It was a short walk to their destination—still within earshot of the Charmings if needed—but far enough to give them both some needed room to breathe. He brushed back a swag of foliage (after checking for dreamshade) and gestured for Emma to step through.

Years ago, he’d discovered the small spring here; one of the few parts of the island not bent on murdering its inhabitants. The water was fresh and cool, and various fruits and edible plants grew around the edge. Back then, he’d made a point to keep access to it open for Bae; he was relieved to see nothing had changed, save for the few vines grown over the entrance.

“It’s beautiful,” Emma sighed—a heavy thing of both awe and relief.

“Aye. Only a few places like it on the island.”

“Let me guess: the water is acid or something?”

He chuckled. “Blessedly, no. It’s one of the safest places here, actually. Bae would come here often—for water, and to bathe.”

She sighed. “Yeah, one of those sounds great right about now.”

“Go right ahead,” he said, gesturing to the spring. “I’ll keep a lookout for you.”

She arched an eyebrow and smirked. “How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to get me out of my clothes? Don’t forget: I know what pregnancy hormones are like.”

She wasn’t wrong, and he couldn’t help the rush of thrill when she flirted with him like that, sarcastic as it was—or the slight southern rush of blood. “Well, I had planned to do the same, if you’d offer me the same courtesy once you’re done.”

“Okay. But turn around,” she directed. He couldn’t say no to that.

He also wasn’t about to divulge the places his imagination wandered as he heard the gentle splashes of water as she cleaned herself.

She didn’t take long—he could tell she was used to being efficient when it came to hygiene, like he was—and was fully dressed by the time he turned around, though her wet hair was still dripping. And he was more relieved than he planned on that she was already facing away when it came time to remove his tunic; he was by no means ashamed of the curve of his belly, but showing off something that was apparently unnatural to the woman he fancied was suddenly a mortifying endeavor.

He was quick, too, in washing up, and in getting redressed—at least his tunic; he let his vest hang unbuttoned for a bit. It had also been a minor bit of relief to undo it, and he’d need a moment to subtly loosen the laces in order to make it both more comfortable and better disguise his slight bump.

He’d given Emma the all clear to turn around before he did that, though, lest she get suspicious. Although—she seemed mildly disappointed when she did.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing, just...you didn’t have to hide your bump, if that’s what you were doing,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Bummed you couldn’t see me shirtless?” he quipped.

That drew a wry, side-eyed grin from her, before she sat down on a stone near the edge of the spring and took a long sip from her freshly filled jug. There was enough space on it next to her for another person to join, but he didn’t want to impose...at least, not until she called out, “Are you gonna join me or not?”

He picked up his vest and coat from where he’d left them in the sand of the small beach and made his way over, then settled next to her. She passed over the canteen; the water was cool and refreshing—and he nearly dropped it when the babe gave a strong kick. “I guess this one likes it too,” he said after he passed it back, and let his hand rest over his belly. It wasn’t often he felt strong movements like that, but each one was reassuring—that his babe was safe from all the dangers of this murderous island.

“Have they been doing that a lot?” Emma asked.

“Here and there; that’s one of the stronger ones I’ve felt.”

“I remember when Henry first did that,” she started. “I dropped my lunch tray, I was so startled. And they wouldn’t give me any more food. But it was...kind of incredible.”

He only understood half those words, but understood the sentiment. “I was still locked up in Tamara’s apartment when I felt the first one.”

“What a coincidence; I was in prison.”

He was growing to hate the number of parallels in their lives.

“Anyways—how’s everything else? Any nausea, cravings, anything?”

It was touching that she was so concerned, but he didn’t dare complain about anything other than the intermittent nausea. As she’d said, she knew about the hormones. “Although, my boots have been annoying tight,” he did add, “and I need to loosen my vest a bit.”

Her eyes had drifted to his midsection, but quickly glanced up. He couldn’t fault her for being curious, so he tugged the edge of his tunic up to reveal his stomach.

“Aww, that’s a cute bump,” she gushed; it was an odd thing to say, he thought, but she clearly meant it as a compliment. “You said sixteen weeks, right?”

“Aye,” he answered, impressed she remembered.

“Yeah, I think that’s where I was with Henry around then. I carried it all in front, apparently.” She quickly grew quiet, and he could tell that wasn’t the sort of thing she shared with too many people. But then her expression grew quizzical. “Can I ask...how, or where, exactly are you carrying?”

“I clearly have a womb,” he said, trying to make light of what was clearly going to be an awkward anatomical conversation.

“Well, yeah, but…you’re a guy. Also clearly,” she responded, eyes glancing at his groin.

“Yes; I have both, then, if that’s what you’re asking, but my womb is...I suppose less functional than yours.”

“So...what, you don’t get periods or something? How does this all work?”

He chuckled at her bluntness and explained—how his womb was something of a secondary characteristic, menstruation only occurred once a year or so, and conception was also only possible at a specific time and when the female partner was on top (a fact that made her blush). “Milah and I...our last joining before she died, it would have been the right circumstances, but given how slim the chances of conception were, it wasn’t something we were concerned with.”

“It only takes once,” she said knowingly.

“That it does,” he agreed.

They settled into an easy silence, and the baby started kicking again, even more once he put his palm over it.

“Do you...want to feel it?” he asked; no one but the doctor had thus far, but he knew women and their partners and friends usually shared those moments. They counted as friends, right?

He was worried she might think he was crossing a line, but she grinned. “Yeah!”

Gently, he took her hand and placed it over the spot just to the side of his navel where the babe was pressing. Hopefully, she didn’t notice his quick intake of breath at the feel of her warm palm on his skin.

If she did, it was quickly forgotten when the little one was kicking at her hand; her eyes lit up. “Hey there, kid,” she said softly. “Look at you, growing big and strong.”

She looked up at him, smiling—and very close to him, a fact she too seemed to suddenly realize, and she quickly moved away.

They lingered at the pond a while longer, enjoying the respite from the craziness of their journey.

But Killian couldn’t stop his heart from racing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from Emma’s proximity, or her interest in his babe, or both.

(Emma, she was surprised to find, was facing a similar predicament. She couldn’t linger on it, she knew, but maybe when they were done, she could try to figure out what that meant.)

But for one minute, they were just two friends enjoying a quiet moment.

————————————————–

thanks for reading! tagging @cocohook38 @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian jones ff #mpreg #killian mpreg #hidden blessing #My ff

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dothwrites · 4 years

Note

Destiel + "can I hold your hand?" uWUWUWUWUWUWu

---

Dean’s too excited to be invited to Charlie’s party to remember to ask who else will be there. He regrets his short-sightedness when he walks into her house. It seems as though the entire population of their high school is located in her living room and Dean recognizes no one.

An all-too familiar anxiety settles in his bones. He should be used to this by now; he’s been the new kid at school too many times to count. He and Sam hardly believed Dad when he said they were settling permanently in Pontiac, Illinois, but three weeks in and Dad hasn’t made noises of moving yet. Which is fine, but having a permanent mailing address means Dean actually has to make friends. Sam, the little freak, already has a host of buddies attached to him by the end of his first day (it’s not weird that Dean watches his little brother from across the cafeteria, all right, he’s just being a good brother and making sure Sam is fitting in), but Dean remains woefully unattached.

Enter Charlie Bradbury, tech genius and actual human ray of sunshine. Seeing Dean’s pathetic attempts at creating lasting connections, Charlie had taken him under her proverbial wing and introduced him to her impressively wide circle of friends.

Dorothy, Kevin, Jo, Benny, Gilda, Victor, Hannah, Inias, Anna, Gabriel--the names and faces flew past him. Only one stuck.

Castiel.

Dean knows he stares when Charlie introduces Castiel, but who could blame him? With those big blue eyes, sharp jaw, and a voice that sounds like he’s been gargling gravel even at seventeen, Dean’s willing to bet a lot of people stare at Castiel. It’s too bad that Castiel doesn’t seem interested in making the slightest overture at friendliness. He’s not rude but also not interested. Every time Dean tries to start a conversation, Castiel answers him in as few words as possible before making an excuse to leave. Dean’s fairly certain his last one was I have to clean the gutters. And Dean’s not stupid, he can take a hint (even if takes him about five times to figure it out). Castiel’s not interested in being friends (or anything more god forbid).

Which is fine. Dean has plenty of friends.

Too bad he can’t find any of them at this party.

He forces his way through the crowd, ignoring the elbows and red solo cups thrown his way. The music (some awful Top 40 pop crap) blares, and Dean makes a note to take over the speakers at Charlie’s next party.

Dean would love to give Charlie shit about it now, but he can’t find her anywhere. He makes his way from the living room into the kitchen and still finds no sign of his friends. The door to the back porch calls to him like a siren song and Dean slips outside before anyone ever has a chance to notice he’s gone.

Dean closes the door behind him, thankfully shutting out most of the noise and the godawful music. Outside, it’s not nearly as humid, less so when a cool breeze drifts by. Dean sighs in relief as the sweat cools on the back of his neck. It’s only then he realizes he’s not alone.

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the patio, illuminated by the weak glow of a porch-light, sits Castiel. Dean’s mouth goes dry as he watches Castiel take a deep sip from his solo cup, throat working as he swallows. It’s only when Castiel lowers the cup that he catches sight of Dean. He sputters on his last swallow, coughing as his lungs reject whatever liquid he just tried to give them.

“Dean,” he finally rasps, carelessly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn’t...I didn’t think you would be here.”

Amazingly, Dean feels disappointed. “Why? Did you think that I was too lame for this?”

Castiel blinks. “No,” he says, surprise in his voice. “I thought...weren’t you going out with Anna tonight?”

Dean vaguely remembers Anna hinting that she and a few of her friends were headed out to see a band downtown, but it hadn’t sounded like his scene. He does think that Castiel might have been standing in the background of that conversation, but he hadn’t thought the other boy was paying attention.

“No. I mean, she asked, but...no.”

“Oh. Well, all right then.” There’s something pleased in Castiel’s eyes as he ducks his head. Dean thinks he catches a hint of a smile.

“Wait,” he says, feeling like he got this whole thing very wrong. “Were you...Cas, were you jealous?”

“No,” Castiel says, a little too quickly. “You can do whatever you like.” He punctuates the statement with another drink, swift and furious.

Dean walks over to the bench Cas is sitting on. He sits down and notes the quick dart of Castiel’s eyes to the minimal distance separating them. “So why aren’t you inside?” Castiel finally asks, his eyes on the few stars visible from the suburbs.

Dean shrugs. “’S too hot in there. I don’t know anyone. Shitty music.” A disheartening thought strikes. “Why? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No!” Cas answers a little too quickly. “I mean...no. Stay. Please. I like talking to you.”

Dean scoffs. “Dude, you’ve said like...three full sentences to me. Kind of takes more than that to have a conversation.”

“I’ve said more,” Cas protests. When Dean levels a stare at him, he relents. “You’re...very distracting sometimes.” Cas’ eyes flick down to Dean’s lips. “All the time,” he amends, his own tongue dabbing at his lower lip.

Warmth blooms in Dean’s chest. “Cas...do you...” He grins for a moment as a world of new possibilities opens up to him. “Do you like me?”

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this.” Cas draws his knees up to his chest, obviously resigned. “I mean, I’d appreciate it--”

“Hold up,” Dean interrupts. It looks like he and Cas are going to have to get a hell of a lot better at this communication thing; they both misread this situation so badly. “What if I want to make a big deal about it?” Cas looks towards him, his forehead creased in obvious misery, and Dean sighs in frustration. “Not like that, I just mean...Look, can I hold your hand?”

The skin of the back of Dean’s neck prickles with a blush (amazing how much of an idiot Cas turns him into), but it’s worth it for the look of slowly dawning realization on Cas’ face. Even better is when Cas stretches out his hand, palm up towards Dean.

Dean’s hand slides overtop Cas’ before his fingers lace smoothly between Cas’. He wraps his fingers onto the back of Cas’ hand, something pleased jangling in him at the look of their clasped hands.

“I thought you kind of hated me,” Dean breathes, transfixed by Cas’ palm, dry and warm, against his.

“No,” Cas agrees, his own voice faint. His thumb presses daringly into Dean’s skin. “Quite the opposite.”

“Oh.” Dean grins and Cas matches his expression, his lips spreading in a wide, gummy smile. Inside his chest, his heart performs a series of Olympic worthy somersaults. Somewhere, a choir sings a hallelujah chorus. “Well, that’s good I guess. ‘Cause I really like you.”

They stay there, ignoring the music and sounds from within the house, their hands clasped together on Dean’s lap, and watch the stars late into the night.

---

tags underneath cut--message/reply to be added or removed <3

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @dizzypinwheel @rogerslouis @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @stay-inside-the-salt-ring @deansbff @spaceshipkat @espejonight28738 @proccastinate @organicpurplepants @apieceofurmind @good-things-do-happen-dean @thewolfatmydoor

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #highschool au #fluff #dean and cas are bad at communication #but it all works out well in the end #dothwrites

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imaginesandideas · 4 years

Text

humid

roughly 4k words, originally posted on my A3O account. a late summer memoir; NSFW. reblogs, comments, suggestions and all kinds of support are more than welcome ✨

[whispers] y’all should really play Hozier’s “Work song” or “NFWMB” for this one 🖤

It’s been a tough couple weeks. Well, months. And it’s especially hard cause you’re living together, you’re married and yet you’re passing each other by. Not willingly for goodness sake, but you’ve been barely finding time for each other lately and it’s killing you. He’s not dealing great with it either, but he keeps the facade to avoid worrying you more. He’s learnt that at work obviously. The same work that has been keeping him away from you for so long.

You’re not better though. Everything has changed after you finally got your degree. The studying was hell, you were mostly tired and overworked. But Flip? He was by your side through highs and lows and was always super supportive. If not for him you probably wouldn’t have done it at all.

But after that you were met with another bunch of obstacles. Cause despite your earnest efforts, finding a decent job in the Colorado Springs area was a rather difficult task.

You went through successive stages of education but it never meant that someone would be willing to give you a chance. And again Flip was the most supportive husband - he would drive you to your interviews insisting that it’s „no big deal” and that he won’t be late for work, cause the work will wait for him anyway. You found his presence by your side in those moments extremely comforting. As you were driving around town he would reach out for your hand to hold it and place a kiss at the back of it. Such a simple gesture but for you it meant more than words. You knew that it was an affirmation, it was him reminding you that you’re strong, that you’re capable and that no matter what happens he’ll be there. For you and with you.

And you simply couldn’t help but glance at him lovingly as he was entirely focused on the road, making sure you get there safe and on time.

And finally, after many unsuccessful attempts, you got the job. It wasn’t a job of your dreams, but it was good for a start. You were earning enough to support your household budget and to take some of the worries off Flip’s shoulders. It was the independence you’ve been seeking, but it also meant that you’d have to get used to your lives continuously not coinciding.

You didn’t even realize when 6-hour shifts have turned into 10 hours. And then those 10 hours turned into a lot of paperwork you’d do during the weekends. But that’s okay, you thought, Flip was also busy at the station or going on missions so you couldn’t really be mad at yourself for doing all this extra work, right? And it was also pretty rewarding cause soon enough you got promoted and had even more complicated tasks to execute. It also came with bigger money, but all of a sudden you realized that you don’t even have the time to go and spend it on something.

Soon enough it dawned to you how little time together with Flip you were actually getting and the thought itself made you feel sick. Cause if you were to count all the moments you two had for each other during the week, it would have to be all the hours asleep and alarming amount of rushed goodbyes and kisses as you pass each other by in the hallway of your home.

Passing each other by - that’s what you were actually doing and it was driving you insane. But what could you do, you were trapped between the current project and all the upcoming ones. You were trapped between Flip’s and your own work schedule. Separated by the obligations that lay with your shoulders.

„That’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you!” His voice is heavy with exhaustion but you can sense that he’s smiling as you’re talking on the phone.

The manager position was more than you could’ve dreamed of, especially after such a long time in your current job, but the offer was so generous and unexpected that it took you a moment to process it. But first, you needed to call Flip. Partially because you wanted to know his opinion but also just so you could hear his voice.

„Well I have yet to agree but yeah I’m pretty excited.” You smile to yourself. „I mean, it’s a big step and I’ll have to get used to the new workplace but yeah…”

„You’ll do great baby. You’ll handle it like a fighter, I’m sure of it.” He’s really so proud of you and no distance could ever hide it. You can practically see his eyes shining with pride. „I love you.”

You sigh sadly.

„I love you too baby.”

„… and miss you.” He adds in a hushed tone.

„I know, I do too, you have no idea how much.” Suddenly you feel glad that you got to talk now, during your break with none of your coworkers around. It’s not like you’re ashamed or anything but you just don’t want people gossiping about the state of your marriage or you in general. It’s your moment, one out of very few you get to spend with your husband, even if it’s on the phone. And you’re just sad, your voice almost breaks as you’re speaking. „I know it’s probably just all the work and stress but I think I’m going crazy sometimes.”

„That bad?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes but you know he’s only teasing. „I know baby, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. All this paperwork from the last case got us locked up here for days. Even Ron had enough of it and left earlier today. Promised he’ll be back tomorrow morning but I wouldn’t bet my money on it.”

You nod mindlessly. Gnawing on your bottom lip you decide to take your shot.

„How much of it do you guys have left?”

„The case data? Uhh, for at least a day or two I think. Why?” You smirk but keep your voice on the same note.

„I might be wrong but I remember that chief once mentioned that you still have that overdue leave?”

He pauses for a moment, most likely trying to recall that conversation but soon enough he’s back on the line.

„Yeah I think there was something. I’ll ask him again but I believe there was a week or two.”

„Okay so, uhm, how about you get the paperwork done and we both take some time off? Just you and me, no work, no phonecalls, no distractions.” At this point you can barely hide the excitement in your voice and you don’t even care. This may be your last chance so you just hope he agrees.

„God yes, that’d be perfect!” He smiles widely and you can’t help but smile too. „What about your new job though?”

„I’ll handle that, don’t worry.”

„That’s my girl.” The smile he has at that moment will stay with him for the rest of the day, he has no doubt about it.

Time flies when you’ve got loads of work and things to look forward to. Those days flied by like a rocket and there you are, all giddy and excited as you walk towards your home. You decided to buy some groceries on the way and grab your order of italian takeaway from that restaurant you used to visit quite often when you were still only dating. Despite the tiredness and the overwhelming heat of the day you try to keep your mood uplift, the thought of well deserved time off with your husband is making all the work worth it. Cause he is worth, and you know that both of you deserve this more than ever.

The late-summer sun is setting low over the city and the woods and you stop in your tracks to catch that last glimpse of golden light. Who would’ve thought that one day you’d miss small things like this - slowly walking home, admiring the view. But you promise yourself to care more from now on. It’s a brand new chapter of your life and you decide not to waste a single moment that’s worth remembering. And you want to remember this, remember this day.

You set your purchase on the kitchen counter and drop your bag on the couch. Flip did not set the hour precisely but you guessed that he’ll be late, the usual.

After you put the food in the fridge - you specifically ordered pasta to be semi-raw so you could reheat it at home when the right time comes - you grab the bottle of leftover wine that you intentionally didn’t finish the last time. Now that you’ve got a couple days off it won’t matter if it’s not the weekend yet, you’re starting yours early. Besides, it should help you relax a bit, loosen tense muscles. And that icy liquid just feels so right as it reaches your tongue, perfect for a hot evening like this one. With a glass in one hand you step out on the porch but the air is still way too heavy with heat and you return inside.

After yet another sip you set the glass on the table and choose to change into something more comfortable. Ideally something thin, cause even back inside the air was pretty humid. Barefoot, you step inside your wardrobe and the coolness of it makes you close your eyes in bliss. The summers here were great, you loved the sun and the nature flourishing, but if you could trade one thing it would have to be the heat, especially during the night.

By the time you come into your bedroom you don’t even know what time it is, you’re too drowsy to care. Maybe you’d just wait in here, lay on these silky sheets you just recently bought for the summertime sleeps. You’ll keep one eye open in case if he comes back soon. You won’t fall asleep no way. No way…

Jolting awake you notice that the light is turned off, the whole room is dark and aired but still pretty humid as if someone left the window open. And it’s almost completely silent, except for the steady breathing beside you. There’s warmth spreading over your waist where his arm rests protectively and you smile. Once your vision accommodates to the darkness you see his sprawled out form, so pale in the night shades of your bedroom. He even got rid of the tank top he’s normally wearing to bed and you assume he must have felt just as hot as you.

You also realize that you must have fallen asleep before he even came back, cause you can’t seem to remember anything after changing your clothes in the wardrobe.

His embrace feels better than anything else in the world and you wish you could’ve stayed like that forever but your throat feels so dry that you decide to gently slip out. It’s no surprise that you still feel dizzy as you stand up, suddenly remembering the alcohol and the fatigue of workday. As quietly and carefully as possible you sneak out of the bed and then out of the bedroom, leaving Flip alone underneath the sheets.

One glass of water isn’t enough so you pour yourself another one. It’s been hours since dusk yet the air feels so heavy and hot as if during the day. Your skin feels sticky, like it’s covered in some sort of sweet syrup.

„You minx.”

His raspy voice coming from behind startles you at first, but his hands swiftly sneak around your waist before you get a word out. And you don’t even mind the warmth radiating off his body onto your back, engulfing you as he closes the distance between you both, that closeness is almost relieving. You haven’t been this close in a very long time.

„I thought you were asleep.” You say softly as you reach out to caress his face and he nuzzles his cheek into the crease between your shoulder and neck, kissing along your tense muscles.

„Can’t sleep without you. I need to know where you are.” He mumbles and you smile.

It’s true, even when away on a mission or an investigation - he always calls. He knows when you’ll be back from work and wants to make sure you got home safe. That’s the protective side of his that you’ve learnt to adore, even if one could consider it an annoying trait.

With his vast work experience, the things he’s seen over the years but also the love he had for you from the very first day, he couldn’t just simply overlook your safety. You were that one string keeping him grounded and sane thorough all the madness in his life, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he’d lost you. It was almost like a ritual at this point. Him calling you from the station before you head for bed, sometimes you calling him at the hotel when you know his workday on a mission is over. Not only does it calm both of you down, it’s also a chance to have that much needed time to talk about ordinary things.

„I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I had some wine, I don’t even remember when I passed out…”

„It’s okay. You work so hard, you deserve some rest.” His voice is soothing in your ears, almost as soothing as his soft lips traveling up along your pulse point. „And I was tired too.”

„Was? Past tense?” You whisper chuckling and his grasp on you tightens, he’s pulling you in even closer almost inhaling you whole. His hands run up your sides, gently cupping your breasts before they retreat, then climb up again, this time underneath your shirt. Ever so slowly, teasingly his fingertips dance over your skin, over your slowly hardening nipples. And despite his bodily warmth it still sends shiver down your back.

He whispers but it feels like a thunder echoing along your neck.

„You already know.”

Your bodies move in unison as you turn around to face him. His face glows of late summer sweat in the dim light and it only accentuates his rough features, from cheekbones to jaw. He gives you a few seconds, enough to get a good look at his shadow-toned figure - arms, thighs, collarbones, stomach and that strong chest - at your Flip, before he pulls you in once again. This time his hands are even greedier, his movements are more desperate. But you’re right there to reciprocate, bringing your own needy hands to his dark, sweat-tangled locks. And when his lips finally meet with yours it’s like breathing. It’s natural, it feels necessary. It’s like magic but better, cause there’s nothing realer than this.

„I missed you. So so much. I missed this.” He whispers in between kisses hastily. His voice is hushed but deep, like in a tantric prayer. Like a spell.

„Flip.” You call out quietly, a whisper echoing in the darkness. He hoists you up, you watch his arms flex in the corner of your eyes, hands clutching on your thighs for dear life as he places you ever so gently on the counter. Safe yet so close to the edge.

His movements are sensually slow, so different from the way you’ve remembered him. With lips parted you let him kiss away the tension from your shoulders, arms, neck, wrists…

„Let me.” He half asks half states as he sinks low on his knees. Your eyelids grow heavy with each touch of his plump, warm lips on your ankles, calves, below your knees, along your thighs. „My love, my queen.”

You don’t remember him him like this and you’re hypnotized. He’s like a drug flowing through your veins, heating you from underneath the skin. Like he’s controlling your whole body, its motions, you.

„Baby please.” You’re begging. Flip likes that, a lot.

„Say it again.” It’s the depth of his voice, the booming of it that wakes you up from this trance you’ve been stuck in. And he’s looking at you with those cinnamon-spiced honey eyes of his. The eyes that are now locked with your own hazy gaze.

He kisses your ankle without even looking away and it’s like fire burning you from underneath and that icy breath tingling on your skin.

„Please.” A whine.

„Again.”

„Please…”

It comes out nearly a whimper, but he’s relentless, his face stoical like a cliff. Proud, patient, waiting.

He’s tempting you, testing you as if it is the devil himself kneeling beneath your feet. Encouragingly grazing his fangs along the luscious skin of your thighs. Awaiting your surrender. Your submission.

„Say it like you mean it.”

Your heart is shaking in anticipation. It feels so wrong and yet you give in.

„Phillip, please. I need you.”

And he bites in, sucks in, leaves blooming marks like petals scattered around a bouquet of fresh wild peonies.

He devours you entirely, completely. Trembling, you’re losing control, in fact you’re giving it away, right into his eager hands, lips, hungry eyes.

By the time his mouth reaches your clit you’re already blissed out, encouraging him with the motion of your hips, quietly gasping, begging for air, begging for more. Begging for no air at all.

It’s like you’re breaking apart, your body and mind conflicted yet something, someone, keeps them tied together, seals them with each caress. Your nerves are tingling but at the same time are so numb, like he’s crawled inside you, slick as a snake. He’s controlling you, the rhythm of your breathing, of your heart.

And your heart feels like a volcano, hot and ready to explode from your heaving chest.

„Y-yes, there, please.”

Your slick and his spit are one. Your inhales are synchronized with his lips. Perfect harmony, only it’s not quiet, it’s loud on his tongue, loud as the gasps leaving your mouth and even louder in your brain.

With your vision clouded you gaze down and that’s when it hits you.

Your limbs involuntarily shake, wave after wave crashing over you and within seconds you can barely breathe. Your mind is filled with light, like sun setting over beach, the sounds of ocean rustling. You’re divided, both here and out there, not even sure which one is which cause all of these sensations feel so real.

There’s this immense hot heaviness climbing up your torso. It covers your ribs, moves swiftly over your cleavage, rests below your breast, on your heart. His hand reaching out to touch you even more. So gentle and loving yet so delightfully demanding.

„Yours.” You whisper even though he doesn’t question it verbally. It’s in the air and you just repeat it like echo, like a mantra.

Fingers dig into the counter, seeking support. He knows you’re almost there, he can feel it through your uncontrolled trembling, your spasming cunt. And so he catches you, holds you grounded, holds your thighs firmly apart with his strong hands. Somehow it doesn’t even matter that it’s the middle of a hot night, it doesn’t matter where did your underwear go, if the sun is about to hit your faces within the next few minutes, cause all you care about is him. And you keep chanting his name with that haunting promise.

„Yours Flip, yours. Yours.”

If only you could see these honey eyes as they drown in the sound of your voice, the eyes that can’t speak but still reflect his love for you - selfless, filled with adoration and respect. In his eyes you’re a statue, carved and perfected thorough the years, and now he’s bringing it to life.

Your body goes tense one more time, from head to toes, from the crown of your head and along your spine. He slows down, he wants it to last, he wants to feast on you for the rest of his days and even more, but he needs you to be fed.

And gods, he’s feeding you with everything he has, with the twirls of his tongue, with his own spit sticking to your sweat covered body, the tiny bites and that gloriously filthy loud sucking.

It’s your arms that give in first and you lean back on the counter covered in sweaty bliss. His hands that kept your your thighs apart loosen the pressure, though you’re fairly sure of the bruising that will come out of it. The beauty of pleasure and pain.

Slowly he pushes himself up from his knees. And- fuck, he’s so in love with you he would propose to you the very next day if only that didn’t already belong to the past.

That’s when your eyes open. You catch him staring but he’s staring at you the way no other person ever did. Not like a prize, a plaything, no, he’s fucking mesmerized. All he sees is a goddess and the look in his eyes, his face says it all. It’s that tiny smirk on his stupid-beautiful face that cracks your heart open. You wonder how dare he tongue-fuck you into oblivion just to be so puppy looking seconds later. It’s like he’s testing you again.

„I fucking love you, y’know that right.”

„Phillip Zimmerman, how dare you. I should be the one saying that right now.” You chuckle but soon enough he gently grabs you, sitting you upright, his arms wrap around your waist yet again, eyes glossy with love. You’re speechless cause it feels like falling in love for the first time, this moment, him holding you close like this. You know this, you two have been like this in the past but you thought you’ve lost it somewhere along the way. Life can be rough, can be painful and sometimes just utterly normal, boring even. But here you are, gazing at each other longingly, maybe more in love than ever before because it’s no puppy love anymore, it’s a full-grown one.

His eyes follow the lines he draws with his fingers along your cheekbone, cheek, jaw before stopping at your chin. And he stares. Stares into your eyes.

He’s thinking how perfect you are, your face carved with determination, struggles but also beauty, and this immense love. He’s thinking how fortune must have helped his blind senses in catching you. And how he never wants to let you go.

He’s so lost in thought and so you take over finishing the sentence he meant to make. You seal the confession with your own lips, deepening it, making the words mean something beyond their definition.

With your eyes closed your hands glide over his face. You feel the softness of his skin, but also each of the tiny scars, the moles, the small imperfections that make Flip the person you know. Your person.

Your lips detach and you already miss their fullness, you miss the way they belong together.

„I meant that, you vixen.” He exclaims half-teasingly, but you know he’s sincere. You know him well enough to recognize it, so you just smile.

„I know. And I do love you too, so much. I really missed us.” As you speak he cups your face yet again but allows you to continue, not wanting to interrupt your thoughts. You were always better with words than him. „And I’m so proud of us, super-proud of you. How you grew over the years, how you’ve gotten better at everything you were already great at. And, like, grateful. For everything you do, for being so supportive and for being there for me an-”

„You better cut this sugary bullshit or you’ll make me so soft ’m not gonna be able to fuck you later.”

„Cutting it right now!” You pretty much cry it out and he chuckles flashing that full-blown smile of his, the one that’s reserved only for you.

„Good girl.” He says and you half-expect him to run off with you to the bedroom, but instead he kisses your forehead and pulls your arms over his shoulders. „But first, sleep.”

„What? No, no nonono. Babe, Flip, no, put me down. I can’t leave you hanging like this, let me-”

„No. Sleep. We need some more sleep first. Besides - I caught that small yawn you did 5 minutes ago, and you tried to freakin’ hide it from me so you’re not getting away with this one.”

„B-but…”

„I promise, we’ll catch up after a nap. Look, we woke up in the middle of the night and now it’s almost dawn.”

His words make your head spin in direction of window and you can’t believe he’s right as the first beams of sunlight hit your eyes. And of course you yawn on the spot, cause he’s really just has all the points.

So you just nuzzle your head in the crook of his marble neck as he carefully hoists you up. You stay there, wrapped in his love through the finishing moments of night, and through couple more hours as both of your bodies rest covered in silky sheets, with limbs tangled together, breathing steady. Even when the air gets humid again covering your bodies with another layer of sweat, you don’t mind. You’re no longer against the heat, not if it’s the heat he covers you with, not if it’s the heat of you together.

#flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman #detective zimmerman #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman smut #blackkklansman fic #blackkklansman au #blackkklansman fanfic #my fics #full fic #phillip zimmerman

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Cassell Cynic

@hectabdr @hectab For my Dragon Raja Bestie! :D A Gift Fic

These two are his idea. I just loved the idea.

“The weather is a balmy 74 degrees and sunny, low humidity and perfect for just hanging out and going for a walk in the lovely city parks of Chicago and now we’re going to a selection of some of Coltrane’s finest jazz compilations....”

On the East Lawn of the Cassell College Campus people were indeed out and about in the sun. The breeze ruffled the skirts of the girls carrying books and laughing to themselves. They cast glances his way and smirked, looking down at him with haughty eyes while he lay on a bench with his sunglasses over his eyes. Somewhere on site, the bells tolled the hour. 2 pm. It was time for afternoon classes to start.

In other words, time for a nap.

He lay on the bench with John Coltrane’s sultry saxophone in his ears. He studied how this man could weave such a delightfully heart pulling melody. Now there was a true genius, able to hone a natural craft into such perfection and gift it to the world for free listening.

But right when the music had reached its natural emotional zenith, it suddenly cut off.

“Nathan Phillips. I know you’re avoiding me.”

His mood went from euphoric to crashing down to the depths of hell. He rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses. “And yet... here we are...”

Norma, the voice of Cassell College’s AI spoke through his headphones. “You haven’t attended a single class this semester...”

“You mispronounced year.”

“The professors are getting irritated...”

“Did you hack an online radio station just to talk to me? Norma... I’m flattered.”

“They’re willing to give you a chance if you complete an internship...”

“A chance to do... what exactly?” Nathan spread out his hands. “It needs to be better than listening to jazz on sunny afternoon, or it’s a no from me.”

Norma was silent for several seconds.

Nathan Phillips smirked. “Didn’t think so...”

“Cassell College has a main mission, to slay dragons. If you’re not here for that, what are you here for?” Norma asked.

Nathan opened his eyes behind his glasses. “I think you should be asking that question of all the other students going to class. Because I guarantee you that Dragonslaying isn’t it. I mean just think about it? How many students here really give a rat’s ass about saving the world from dragons? I’m serious. Answer the question.”

“The answers can vary but that doesn’t change the goal of the institution. This was plainly told to you when you enrolled.”

Nathan Phillips nodded his head. “Oh yeah, and I bought into it until I was Ranked C on me 3E exam. I don’t resonate worth a damn with dragons. I’m barely above the maintenance personnel in that regard.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of marijuana. He rolled it in paper and lit it.

“Smoking is prohibited on school grounds.”

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it. So, what are you going to do? Kick me out? I listened to the enrollment lecture. You don’t kick out students. They get suspended or drop out and have their memories wiped. If you kick me out for this blunt, that will be my greatest accomplishment as a C rank.”

Norma made a noise and his eyes widened. “Did you just sigh? Wow, you are realistic. So... just out of curiosity, what is the mission?”

“If you’re not going to accept, there’s no point in telling you.” Norma replied.

“This conversation is over then? It was just getting interesting. Oh well. But if you want to know the answer to your question of why I’m here... you should ask my parents.” He blew out a purple haze into the sky. “They’re the ones who sent me here. They scrimped and saved to send me here. They could have bought me a house. Two houses. A nice car. All that. But no, they sent me here. Just so they could say they had a son go to Cassell. That’s it. To prove their bloodlines weren’t trash. But they were wrong... they are trash.”

“That’s all I’m here for, Norma. I’m here to be here. That’s where my obligations end. I’ll stay here until the money runs out. Enjoy myself. And then when the money runs out, I’ll drop and have my memory wiped. Go on with my life. And...” He paused to draw on the blunt. “I will have a life. Some star dragonslayer will save the world from dragons while I’m having the time of my life, on the bench, smoking Mary Jane. Do you have any objections?”

Norma was silent for several seconds. “None. I’ll return you to your jazz.”

John Coltrane returned to his ears and Nathan Phillips smiled to himself and relaxed into the buzz in his brain. There was nothing wrong with a pointless life.

If he learned anything from Cassell, it was this.

He pulled out a notebook and opened it. Inside were all sorts of fantasies of what he would like to be told on dropping out. It wasn’t enough to just erase someone’s memories. New memories would have to replace them to explain the missing years. It could be literally anything.

Maybe he was someone who witnessed a mob hit and was living undercover in the witness protection program. Or maybe he was a secret agent in a UFO division and he’d be kidnapped off world by aliens. He always came up with his best work when he was high as a kite. This time, he was an aspiring artist on the run from a brutal dictator and taking refuge in Chicago. He wrote down the scenario quickly before he forgot it.

All the other students were in class, except for him, sitting on the bench writing down about how his paintings were renowned all over the world until a brutal dictator... which dictator? “Uh... Geez I don’t know.”

The sound of heels clicking on the pavement caught his attention. He turned bleary eyed to the vision of a girl walking up to him, arms swinging, eyes narrowed. He’d seen her before but couldn’t remember where. She overshadowed him and looked up. Her head blocked out the sun and he couldn’t see her face. “Um... shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Uh, no! No class! I was supposed to be on assignment but my PARTNER is a lazy ass who won’t show up.” She growled.

Nathan lifted his sunglasses over red rimmed eyes. She was Asian but tall, only an inch from 6 feet. Her muscles nearly popped from her school uniform. He wasn’t sure if it was the weed messing with his head but he was pretty sure this woman could benchpress more than he weighed. “Well... that sucks.”

“Yeah, it does!” She bent over until her face was an inch from his, blinking with wide indignant eyes. “You shouldn’t be allowed to to bring down the grades of other students! I didn’t come here to be brought down by you!”

“Me?”

“Yes! You! My partner!”

“Wait... you’re... Oh right! You’re Hana... Hana...” He snapped his fingers.

“Sato, Hana Sato and don’t snap your fingers at me or I’ll snap them off!” She grabbed his wrist.

“Right... the A ranked girl.” He lowered his glasses back over his eyes. “Well, this wasn’t my decision to be your partner. You should blame the people at fault. It’s probably Norma. She’s the one who pinged me earlier about it. Tell her to get a new partner for you. Should take a hot minute.”

Hana scowled at him. “If I could have anyone else for a partner I would. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they all suck! They’re all terrible! All they want to do is talk about boys and parties and stupid things like that! I can’t stand those people!”

“I’m not any better. Just do the mission by yourself.” He pulled his hand out of her grip.

“I can’t. They already said its a two person mission.”

Nathan gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “Pay someone.”

“They said it had to be you.” She sat next to him on the bench.

Nathan snorted and started laughing. “Wow. They are really desperate.”

“I’m glad you think bringing down my whole year is funny.” Her cheeks were red and her eyes were narrowed with frustration and anger.

“I’m not bringing down your year! I’m laughing because they want me to care so bad that they’d send this super powerful, gorgeous girl and chain her to me and expect me to do something. It’s like they all got together and said ‘Ha! A pretty girl, now he’ll give a shit.’” He laughed loud. Marijuana always made him giggly. “They’re the evil ones. If you care about your grade... then all I can tell you is stop caring.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re a C-rank. You don’t have anything to lose.”

“Just... find another partner.” Nathan said, staring at her. He wondered why she was still here.

She sighed, looking away from him, her ponytail falling over her shoulder. “I can’t. No one will work with me. I kind of... got put on a hit list after I punched the lead dancer of the White Skirt’s Club and knocked her out right before a performance.”

“Pics or it didn’t happen.”

Much to his shock she pulled out her phone and showed a picture. It wasn’t taken by her, but by another student as proof that Hana had ruined the Student Union performance.

“Heh. Sorry I missed it.”

Hana closed the app. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. She had an understudy but... uh... yeah, I was blacklisted after that. I don't’ care. I work fine on my own. But now they insisted we be partners and I literally have no alternative.”

“Hey...”

She looked down at him. “What?”

“You always have the choice to do nothing. I haven’t done a thing since I got here.” He laid back on the bench as though to demonstrate. “Feel free to join me.”

#Dragon Raja

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