#and now i once again retreat into my cave to finish the rest of my queue!!!! so long everyone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeytae · 3 years ago

Text

I love when you talk nurturing to me.

hello my loves, happy wednesday! welcome back to regular uploads (rip thirst week lol) and you know what that means...mega fluff. this particular piece was requested by a few different people, but it was all the same general idea: DOTING. ON. JUNGKOOK. which is just...such a dream, right? anyways, i hope you all enjoy this. thanks to my requesters who have waited SO patiently for this to be written, i hope it was worth it!!!

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters genre: fluff warnings: jungkook’s tired and kind of overworking himself :( oc takes care of him though bc duh word count: 2.6k

Jungkook hated his boots.

Well, not all the time. Most of the time, Jungkook loved his boots.

But right at this moment, he hated how heavy they were, weighing him down further than his already sore muscles as he trudged up the stairs to your numbered doorway.

Huffs escaped him every other step as he gripped the railing for support, letting his head roll to the side with a close of his eyes once he’d successfully made it through the fire and ache that was his muscles right now.

After fiddling with your stubborn lock and door handle, he sighed in relief as he entered your place, pouting a bit as he heard you clanging pots and pans in the kitchen. Glancing at his phone, he supposed it was dinner time. But he wanted nothing to do with food and everything to do with you.

Kicking off his shoes, he slid his phone back into his pocket, rolling his shoulders back as well as his neck. The burn eased only slightly from the action. This was worse than he’d felt in a while.

The pout stayed on his lips as he shuffled into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway for a second to watch as you stirred something over the stovetop, shifting your face over the open pot every once in a while to make sure you were doing it right.

The action made him feel slightly less tired and all the more fond, a gentle greeting smile from you brightening his attitude almost completely before he tried to take another step toward you, calf tightening into a painful cramp as he hissed in a breath through his teeth.

You immediately frowned in concern, taking the initiative to walk the one step to close the gap between you, wrapping your arms around him and letting out an ‘oof’ as he rested his body weight on you.

“Hi.” Jungkook mumbled through his pout, hair hanging into his eyes and blocking his full expression from your view.

Even without seeing the man, you could tell he wasn’t in his regular mood, heavy on his feet with nothing left to give. It irked you, seeing him like this.

“Hi. You okay?” You wondered aloud, a question you fully knew the answer to as you sneakily reached your arm back to turn the heat down on the burner, allowing the food to rest a bit while you investigated your boyfriend’s serious lack of Jungkook.

“Mm. Tired.” He replied flatly, shrugging a bit as his eyes drooped to stare back at you.

Frowning as he remained uncharacteristically silent after his brief answer to your question, you tucked some of his long strands back behind his ear, sighing through your nostrils at the dark circles the action revealed to you.

He was tired. He was so fucking tired.

Quickly making the executive decision to move the pot to a completely cold burner, you turned back around to place your hands on his chest, letting an arm slide around his back to support his slumped frame.

The man’s face remained unmoving as you encouraged his other arm to rest around your neck, your boyfriend grunting as the motion strained his muscle but sighing nonetheless at the relief it gave him. Finally, he didn’t feel quite as heavy as when he was holding himself up.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you cleaned up.” You tugged at the hand of his arm resting on your shoulder gently, letting his exhausted body lean on you as you retreated down the hallway.

“Thank you.” He spoke weakly, melting into you further as you dipped your head to press a kiss to the hand resting upon your shoulder, his fingers stroking at your shirt in response.

Leading him into the bathroom, you propped the sleepy man against the counter, popping out of the room only momentarily to grab a towel from the hallway closet, placing it beside the sink for him and walking over to the shower to play with the water temperature.

“Shower or bath?” You asked to the man behind you, hand hovering over the nozzle to adjust the setting as he let out a deep sigh.

“Shower. I think I’d fall asleep in a bath.” He admitted sheepishly, making you chuckle a bit before nodding.

“Shower it is, then.”

As you switched the stream of running water from tub to shower head, the spray of the water against the tub drowned out almost every other noise, even the soft hum coming from your throat as you pulled the curtain all the way back for easy access inside. Holding your hand out to the man, you gestured for him to come to you with a fold of your fingers, Jungkook easily following your lead as he trudged over to you.

“Hi, lovey.” You greeted him again, softer this time as you slid your hand underneath the hem of his shirt to grip the fabric. Leaning forward to catch your lips with his, he planted a soft kiss to the flesh, the action gentle and tired as he tried to relay the gratefulness he felt in this moment. Pulling back with a slight smile, you lifted your eyebrows as your boyfriend chuckled at you.

“What?” You asked, making him laugh a bit more and only increasing your confusion.

“Every time we kiss you act like it’s the first time.” He commented, a bit of teasing in his tone as he smirked a bit back at you.

You let out a scoff at his words, lifting the material of his shirt to trap his head in the fabric and making him let out a loud laugh at the action. The moment was the first positive sign you’d seen since he arrived home, making your heart feel content as you smiled at his hidden face beneath the cotton. Releasing his head from the shirt, you tossed the black tee to the ground, Jungkook taking the lead on his shorts as he shoved them and his underwear down his thighs.

“It feels like the first time every time.” You said softly, stepping aside so that Jungkook could make his way into the basin.

“For me too,” he smiled, “you coming?” He referenced the running shower, an open invitation to join the man behind the curtain with pleading doe eyes.

“Mm, I should finish dinner so that when you get out-”

“Please?” He pouted again, making you blow a breath out past your lips before caving.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a moment, you get in and start without me.” You instructed, the man grinning a bit before stepping into the tub, letting out an immediate sigh at the ease of the water pounding down on his sore back.

Walking into your bedroom, you quickly made your way over to his drawer in your dresser, picking out another one of his black t-shirts and boxers for him to sleep in and setting them out on the bed.

Making your way back to the bathroom with an extra towel in hand, you held back your own yawn as you stepped inside the already steamy air of the bathroom, the curtain left the slightest bit open for your expected return.

Peeling your shirt up over your head, you dropped it onto the group of Jungkook’s clothes, letting your shorts slide down your legs to join the pile before pulling the curtain back a bit more. The action revealed a very dry Jungkook, leaning against the tile wall instead of underneath the water like you’d been expecting. Scoffing at his smirk as you stepped into the shower, you gestured to his dry strands of hair, raising your eyebrows in amusement.

“You were supposed to start without me.” You commented on the barely wet hair framing his face, the man full-on grinning at you as he pulled your body closer to his, guiding you both underneath the stream of water.

“Now why would I do that?” He asked teasingly, giggling when you shook your head at him.

“You’re annoying. Give me the shampoo.” You ordered, another big smile twisting at the man’s lips as he dutifully nodded, grabbing the bottle of your shampoo from behind him before you stopped him with a grasp on his wrist.

“Yours, love.” You directed him, pointing to the sweet-smelling shampoo Jungkook adored, having become his favorite shortly into staying over with you and now referred to as ‘his’ by the both of you.

“I wanna wash your hair.” He pouted, you swiping the unfavorable expression off with a kiss to his chin before reaching over to retrieve the shampoo you’d directed him to get.

“Another time. Right now I need to get you clean and in bed.” You said authoritatively, the man raising his eyebrows in amusement as you squeezed a dollop of the shampoo onto your palm.

“Aw, babe. I love when you talk nurturing to me.” He smirked, a chuckle exhaled out your nostrils at his words.

“Yeah, yeah. Just shut your eyes, unless you want me to burn them with this cherry blossom shit.”

After you were done washing his hair, having to occasionally pause to direct his hands back to your hips from where they sometimes started wandering over your body throughout, you began lathering the bottle of body soap in your hands, rubbing down his arms and torso and all around his back to wash away the sweat and aches from his day.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” He practically whined after you moved his hand off your stomach the fourth time, letting you pick his arm up to run the water along the limb and successfully run the soap off.

“Because I know it won’t end there. And I need to get you to bed, remember?” You tutted, placing one more kiss to his jaw before leaning over to shut the water off, setting your hand on his back to encourage him out of the shower.

His legs didn’t budge, hand collecting your own to stubbornly guide you out ahead of him.

“You first.” He emphasized as you remained standing in the tub, rolling your eyes with a sigh before you stepped out with the help of his hand. Reaching for one of the towels you’d gathered, you spread it out in front of your body, holding it out by the edges for the man to step into.

“C’mon, Kookie.” You gestured with a nod of your head, your soft tone making a smile light up his face as he finally stepped out of the tub. Immediately enveloping him in the soft towel, you wrapped him in the dry fabric, hugging him as tired chuckles escaped his lips.

“Go get dressed. I’ll be there in a minute.” You patted his butt, eliciting more giggles out of the man before he spun on his heel to leave the bathroom.

You could tell the shower had done a lot for his muscle tightness and overall attitude, the familiar smile you’d fallen in love with so long ago making a reappearance within moments of the water making contact with his skin.

Grabbing the other towel, you wrapped it around your own torso, squeezing the ends of your hair a bit, lifting and setting your feet down against the carpet to dry them before stepping out onto the tile floor.

Shuffling into your bedroom, you whistled at the sight in front of you, a very bare Jungkook turning around to face you with the towel you’d wrapped around him bunched at his feet.

“Hello there.” You flirted, your boyfriend scoffing as he looked down to his spread boxers, ready for him to step into. The smile remained on his face as he pulled the underwear up his legs, settling them on his hips before directing his gaze back to you.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He crooned, walking over to you with a smirk as he dropped a kiss to your temple.

“Stop that.” You hushed, shoving his shoulder in an attempt to get him off of you from where he was latched onto your side, head down in the nook between your neck and shoulder pressing kisses to the still-wet skin.

“Oh, so you can flirt with me but I can’t flirt with you?” He raised his eyebrows, you nodding with a confirming hum as you successfully wriggled out of his hold.

“Precisely.” You replied, slipping a large t-shirt over your torso and opening your drawer in search of proper underwear.

“Mm. That sounds fair.” He hummed, feet padding against the floor as he exited the room, bent at the waist to ruffle the towel through his hair as he walked.

After getting some of your regular sleep clothes on, you followed the route your boyfriend had taken moments before, squeezing the water out of your hair with the towel much like he’d done previously.

“I love when your hair curls like that.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the suddenness of your voice in the room, meeting your fond gaze through the mirror as you watched him wet a cloth underneath the running faucet.

His dark hair was hanging in waves around his face, tendrils already half dry as they framed his cheeks. His doe eyes stared at you through the mirror, completely bypassing your comment as he turned to you, wet cloth still in hand.

“You look really pretty.” He grinned, your head tipping in confusion as you gestured to your old ratty t-shirt; it was your classic bedtime attire and frankly, one of the ugliest outfits in existence.

“How can you even say that right now?” You chuckled, the man mirroring your actions as his teeth beamed at you, eyes watching as you stepped forward and took the cloth from his hand, directing it back under the stream of water from the faucet.

“I can say that all the time. You always look pretty.” He shrugged, smiling at your exhaled scoff as you waved him off.

After squeezing the excess water from the washcloth with your hands, you twirled a strand of his hair around your finger, forming a firmer curl around your appendage and nodding once to affirm your work.

“You’re prettiest.” You concluded with a smile, backing him up so that the backs of his tired knees hit the toilet, easily giving out and letting him land on the closed seat with a grunt.

“You’re strongest, that’s for damn sure.” He huffed teasingly, watching you roll your eyes at him as you leaned over to grab his face wash. As you repositioned yourself in front of him to apply the foam onto his skin, his eyes poured into yours, making you hum in question at the glint in his eye.

“C’mere.” He said simply, arms tightening around your thighs to pull you down onto his lap, your legs reflexively wrapping around his waist as he smiled in approval.

“Much better.” He squeezed your hips lovingly, wiggling his eyebrows at you to make it harder for you to focus on your application of the foam as you finally locked eyes with him.

“Jungkook, I’m trying to take care of you.” You whined, making him stop immediately as he pursed his lips out, humming when you reflexively pressed yours to them.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused at the softened look in his eye. For god’s sake, you were in your ratty old college t-shirt sitting on a toilet applying sticky foam to fight his acne. What was romantic about this?

“Just love you.” He said simply, leaning forward to peck your lips again and giggling when some of the foam from his nose smeared onto your skin.

“Love you too, you freak.”

#bts fanfiction #bts member x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts imagines #bts fluff #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook reader insert #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #writing #fanfiction #x reader #fluff

722 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

Sunrise (10)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: smut (18+), angsty angst, this time I dont leave you with a cliff hanger 😉 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

“Come on, Bucky! I know you’re in there!”

You hit your fist on the door again. Perhaps you would have been more mindful of the the hour, but you’d heard glass shattering as you raced up the stairway just moments ago. You’d heard him shouting himself hoarse and heavy footsteps as he paced inside his apartment. You’d heard the cracks in his voice – the consumption of grief and fury and shame swallowing him whole.

One of Bucky’s neighbors had rung Sam the first time Bucky’s screams could be heard through the thin apartment walls. It was the fifth time in as many nights and Sam promised Bucky would get it under control before they went to the landlord with noise complaints. He made no such promises that he would be the one to do it.

An elderly woman in a nightgown peeped her head out into the hallway, scowling at you as you continued pounding on the door. Her beady eyes narrowed and you only spared her a moment’s glance before you returned to the door.

“I’ll wake up the whole building! I swear to—”

The door was pulled from under your fist. In its frame, stood a ghostly version of the man you knew. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes. His hair was disheveled, blood dripped from a cut in his palm. Behind him, furniture was turned on its side, glass on the floor, magazines and unopened mail littering every surface. He'd torn his place apart.

“What are you doing here?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice stronger than you felt. “Sam called me.”

Bucky’s grip on the doorknob tightened. “Of course, he did.”

He paused only for a moment before he turned his back to you and walked inside the apartment. The door was left open in his wake and you took it as permission to enter.

Cautiously, you took your first steps into his apartment. You tried to ignore the dust lining the curtains and the fleeting thought wondering when the last time he’d allowed the sun to touch his skin. The latch clicked behind you and you winced at the intrusion to the silence.

Bucky meanwhile was staring out into the mess of his living room. His gaze rested on the couch turned on its side, then to the box of trinkets spilled on the floor by the mantel, then the broken glass by the window. His shoulders sagged; his expression unreadable. Slowly, he knelt down to the edge of the couch to flip it back on its legs.

You watched him carefully, not uttering a word or daring to move closer until he finished. Once the couch was right side up again, he exhaled a tired breath and leaned against the edge. Exhaustion flickering through his eyes, though you suspected it had little to do with the exertion of moving furniture.

As Bucky moved to throw the cushions back to the frame, you realized suddenly how he was dressed. Plaid blue pajama pants hung low on his waist. Bare feet prodding over hardwood floors too close to where broken shards of glass waited. His chest was exposed; skin glazed in the dim glow of moonlight as it peered through the small slit between the curtains.

You could see his shoulder blades move along his back as he tensed. The lines of his spine and the dips along his hipbones. When he turned to face you again, your eyes were drawn to his shoulder and the frayed mess of scar tissue and burns. It was mesmerizing, the intricate patterns and the markings on his skin. Pink and red and faded with time. You wondered if it still hurt, if he could feel the nerve endings there or—

Your gaze flickered back to Bucky’s. He was watching you, barely taking a breath. So vulnerable as he stood in front of you and he had no time to prepare for it. He probably didn’t realize how exposed he was until he noticed you staring. You’d imposed on his home, on his space. He couldn’t have known he’d be confronted with this tonight.

All the effort it took for him to simply remove his jacket and now he was left standing before you without a single layer to protect him.

You could see the doubt swimming behind his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to pretend like this connection between you was something he could easily push away, like he could let go of it without much of a second thought or a single word in his own defense, you could tell he was ripping himself apart at the seams, wondering whether you found him as repulsive as he saw himself to be.

He shook his head, his features hardening over again. He gripped at the side of the couch until his knuckles turned white.

“You should go home,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was thick as gravel. “Sam shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Shouldn’t have—?” You scoffed, stunned. “Bucky, look at this place!”

“I’m fine,” he replied flatly and you almost laughed if it weren’t for the deadpanned look upon his face.

“You’re clearly not fine!” You dared to take a step closer, aching to remind him of the lightness he carried weeks earlier, only for him to retreat. He rejected the contact on instinct – a flinch throughout his whole body. Your heart clenched as if a hand had slipped in past your ribs and squeezed until it burst.

Your breath was tight in your lungs as you tried again, a little softer this time, “you’re not fine, Bucky. You’ve kept yourself held up – alone – in this apartment for days on end. You’re pushing away the people who care about you. You’re not sleeping. You... You look like you’ve been through hell.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tight, you wondered if it might shatter. His gaze was unfocused, staring down at the floor by your feet.

“You don’t have to put yourself thought this,” you eased, though the tension would not fade from his muscles. They remained locked as stone. You inched forward, a hand extending to him, an anchor to ground him. “Bucky, please... let me help you.”

Something snapped – as sudden as a rubber band pulled taunt until its breaking point – and Bucky’s cold eyes met yours.

"There is NO helping me!” he roared, startling you enough to flinched back a few paces, your hand curling back against your chest protectively. He curled his shaking hand to a fist. “I can't escape this shit! Even when I thought I could—when things were finally bearable again and I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning and I actually wanted to live through the fucking day— it all came back anyway! One word and I’m right back to where I started! I’m a fucking nightmare to be around! Don’t you get that?!”

His breaths were coming in ragged, too quick. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes red. He hit his knuckles against the edge of the couch, on the wooden frame under the spine. Bucky barely took in a full breath.

“I can’t keep my shit together and I’m -- I’m only going to hurt you, okay? You shouldn’t want anything to do with this. I—I mean, look around you!” He kicked at the glass near his exposed feet, angry tears burning on his cheeks. “This is what my life looks like! Is this—is this what you want for yourself? You really want to sign up for this? This—this fucking endless parade of night terrors and panic attacks and anxiety? Huh?”

He was brimming with pain. It was spilling over the surface and coating the floor. You were drowning in it and all you wanted to do was cross the room to him, to hold him, to soothe even an ounce of that suffering away because it would consume him whole if he let it.

Bucky’s right hand was shaking so badly, tremors wouldn’t cease even as he clenched his fist. His body betrayed the stone he etched into his features. It was crumbling under the weight.

“You really want to throw away your life for that? For me?” he spat as if the very idea itself carried venom in its implication, as if it were nothing more than a fool’s errand to spend a lifetime by his side, as if choosing him would be choosing to tie a noose around your neck.

You’d never seen the evidence of his self-loathing before—not in full view and smothering the man you adored. He was expecting you to recoil, to run, to fight and argue and ultimately accept that you could never love a man so broken. It was a reaction he could wait a century for and still never find even a glimpse of hesitancy on your features.

You steadied your breathing. Focused on the heart of the man standing in front of you, determined to push past the destructive fog he’d surrounded himself in. You took a step toward him, and this time, he did not run.

“You’re not going to scare me away, Bucky.”

Shame quickly spread through his body, replacing the threads of anger with something much crueler. His eyes fell to the floor, his chest rising unsteady and he stumbled back a few paces to give you space from the rage he wasn’t able to control. He looked about a decade younger as his features softened again, cowering back into the shadows.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you eased, daring another step.

Bucky shook his head, reflective lines along his cheeks. His lower lip was chewed raw.

“You don’t deserve this mess. You should—You should be with someone whole. Someone who can give you a better life than I can.” He could barely choke out the words.

“I don’t want someone else.” You took another step closer, determined to close the space between you. “I want you.”

The tips of your fingers brushed against Bucky’s hand and a shiver cast up his spine. His eyes were transfixed on your touch as you slowly encased his hand in your own, easing the tension through his body and crumbling the stones in his chest with a gentle slide of your thumb against his palm. He started to sink against it, his whole body caving in to the very thing he’d been keeping at an arm’s length. He was suffering withdrawal.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Bucky whimpered, tears slipping past his eyes as he shut them tight, as if he could cast away his demons if he were blind to their shadows over his shoulder.

You tugged gently on his hand, pulling him down to the couch. He followed you easily, his body moving of your accord as if he were made of clay. When you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, you felt the slight tremble along his spine, the shakiness in his bones. His head laid against your heartbeat, his right arm snaking around your waist in fear of letting go.

“I don’t need to know what happened. I don’t need the details,” you sighed against his ear. “I know you. I know you’re a good man, Bucky.”

Bucky was quiet for a minute. The silence hung thick in the air.

“What if I’m not?”

You tried to ignore the twist in your chest. “Oh honey, please don’t say that.”

“I lost eight people, Y/n,” he muttered out, holding onto you a little tighter. You could feel his heart pounding as you raked your fingers through his hair, hoping to ease him if only a little. “Eight of my unit. My friends. If I... If I had said something sooner... We were sitting ducks and... and...”

It was impossible to draw the pieces together. You couldn’t see the vivid image he held in his mind, but the details of that day weren’t necessary. He trusted you enough to outline the frame, to provide glimpses into the worst day of his life, even if they were messy and blurred. His body shook as he spoke, like maybe it was the first time he was saying the words aloud.

You ran your fingers along his spine, drawing patterns along his shoulder blades. He shivered.

The gentle glow of the moonlight caught the reflective edge of something on the floor. A medal. A Bronze Star. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, remembering what Natasha had told you about its merit for exceptional bravery.

“Were there any survivors?”

Bucky held his breath and slowly he nodded. “He was... He was just a kid when it happened. Peter. I think... I think if it wasn’t for him, I would have died out there. I would have given up. Woulda been easy enough. My arm would have bled out pretty quick and the sky... the sky was so beautiful that day. I don’t know why I remember that. Not a cloud for miles. It would have been a nice last thing to see, you know? I would have been okay with that. But Peter... Peter was so young and I... I wanted to bring him home.”

Tears were openly streaming down your face and you were thankful Bucky couldn’t see them as he laid against your chest. You tried to stifle the sob as it broke through. You kissed at his hairline again, holding him as tight as you could manage.

“You saved his life,” you stressed, hoping he might be able to hear it.

Bucky swallowed, tears brushing against the thin fabric of your t-shirt. “I lost eight others.”

“Yes, you did.” There was no disputing that. Eight lives had been lost and he was grieving his friends, his team, blaming himself for each life he didn’t save. His body tensed and you were mindful to draw pressured lines along his back to ease the rigidity there.

“You did everything you could, honey.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I could have... I—I should have...”

“Some things are just outside of your control.”

“But I—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Bucky froze, the recognition present in his body as he slowly lifted his head from your chest. “That’s....” He blinked a few times. “That’s what Sam always said. Those exact words.”

You smiled, brushing the hair from his eyes. You wiped your thumb along his cheekbone, drawing away the tracks of tears on his face. “Sam’s a smart guy.”

Bucky searched your eyes and you could tell he was wondering how you’d come to know Sam’s mantras, how they’d become words you often repeated to yourself in your darkest moments, but he couldn’t quite find a way to ask. He pulled himself from your lap and propped himself up beside you, your hands intertwined. He squeezed it lightly and an aching smile pulled at your lips.

"Sam used to have to write it on paper for me,” you admitted at the bittersweet memory. “I couldn’t say it to myself and he figured if I could read it in his writing, maybe I’d believe it if it were coming from him. After a while I started to say them out loud and hearing it my own voice... I don’t know. Sam kind of tricked me into healing, I guess.”

You laughed under your breath and you felt Bucky ease slightly beside you. He squeezed your hand again, a silent reminder that he was there. You focused on the feel of his grip, the callouses on his palms and the warmth of his skin. Real and tangible. Your Bucky.

“Sometimes I think Sam’s the only reason I survived after I lost Riley.”

A slight pinch formed at Bucky’s brows, his eyes narrowing—a subtle sort of curiosity, though he waited patiently for you to continue. The silence didn’t seem to frighten him as much as he focused on you, his eyes darted to your lip as you dug in your teeth.

You hadn’t let yourself be vulnerable next to Bucky before, afraid to take away from his own suffering in favor of your own. But you had known pain of a different kind.

You knew what it was to crave comfort, to silently beg to be held. You knew how it felt to be rejected by a man too shattered to offer any piece of himself away without breaking apart entirely.

The way Bucky was watching you, even through the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion pulling him in... it settled the twists of nerves in your stomach. His thumb traced at the edges of your palms, gentle sweeps to ease the tension away. His back straightened, a determination returning to his features, a sense of belonging – of purpose – in his comfort of you.

“He was a pararescue in the Air Force,” you continued after a moment and a flash of realization crossed over Bucky’s features. You pressed out a sad sort of smile as you said, “you remind me of him a little.”

You thought of the t-shirt you’d lent Bucky the evening you’d gotten caught in the storm together, how it clung to his chest. Bucky’s shoulders where broader than Riley’s had been. It was slightly bigger on your frame the next night you wore it. The logo had faded with constant washing, the soft green of the fabric muted to a grey. You’d worn it to sleep nearly every night for weeks after Riley left for his final tour, longer after he’d been killed.

It was the most cherished thing you owned. Lending it to Bucky that night had taken a strength you hadn’t allowed for yourself in years. It brought back memories you’d left untouched and an ache in your chest you’d forgotten. But somewhere, under it all, it had released you.

Riley would have liked Bucky, you thought, might have considered him a friend. You hoped he wouldn’t mind being the bridge that allowed you to move onto a new sense of peace, a new comfort. Even in Riley’s darkest moments, he only ever wanted you to be happy. You desperately hoped he meant that.

“I loved him so much,” you told Bucky, your mouth feeling suddenly dry at the admission, “but the war had hurt him beyond the scars on his body. Most nights, he woke up screaming. I tried... I tried to comfort him, to ground him back to what was real, but Riley was always so stubborn. He insisted he was fine, as if I didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes or that he started drinking coffee in the evening before bed. He never told me what happened. I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, that he was just doing what he could to hold himself together, but... the truth was, I lost Riley long before the officers showed up at his parents’ house.”

Bucky nodded, watching you intently, though he didn’t say a word. You could feel his eyes on you as you kept your stare ahead, focusing on the imperfections laced into the brick of the fireplace across the room. You studied the curve of the cement, the nicks in the mantel, the divots of the stone. It was the first time you’d uttered Riley’s name in years.

“I know you think I can’t handle this stuff, that it’s too much for me, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been around someone with nightmares, Bucky, or panic attacks,” you said, memories flashing over Riley sinking to the floor with his hands pressed to his ears, tears streaming down his face, images of him turning his back on you and disappearing for days on end. You had hoped he’d open up in enough time, but he never did. He couldn’t, he’d said, or it would consume him whole. Even years later, you still wondered whether it was under the weight of his pain that he suffocated, not in the prospect of its release.

“Riley struggled after his first tour,” you continued, a lump burning in your throat. “He... He came back different. He couldn’t adjust to civilian life. I could tell from the second he got home that he was itching to go back. Despite all the pain he endured, all the nightmares and the guilt, all he wanted to do was go back.”

You glanced over at Bucky to find his jaw clenched in understanding. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling, for soldiers who waited so tirelessly to be reunited with family and friends to feel isolated and insignificant when they returned home, to want to return to the one place they felt like they belonged.

“I tried to stop him,” you continued, wiping your eyes as unshed tears started to blur your vision. “I begged him to stay. He was out of his contract. He didn’t need to go back but...” You sighed. Bucky’s hand gripped yours and you drew on the ounce of strength he was offering. “The worst part was that he was better when he was over there. He was smiling again and laughing and making jokes like he used to. He was promising things for our future I hadn’t even allowed myself to consider before then. Being over there... it offered him something I never could and I was... I was glad for that. I was thankful he’d gone. I was... relieved. I’d missed him so much and I was just happy he was himself again, even if he was a world away, even if it broke my heart. Seeing him happy again... it was enough.”

You brushed at your eyes, the calloused touch of Bucky’s palm sliding along your jaw to gently wipe the wet from your cheek. His breathing was even again, the shakiness in his hands subsided. He waited for you to gather your thoughts again, not uttering a word in favor of the crickets chirping outside the window – unparalleled kindness in his patience.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, urging yourself to continue. Your eyes met Bucky’s, finding comfort in the warm shades of blue and the encouraging glimpse of a smile that barely rose at the edges of his mouth.

“When Riley died, I blamed myself for a long time,” you said. “I told myself I could have stopped him from going back. I could have done more to convince him to stay, to get him the help he needed. I could have fought harder for him—for... for us. But Riley was his own person. He made his own choices and I couldn’t have done a damn thing to stand in his way. Sam helped convince me of that.”

Bucky’s face slacked. “That’s why you started volunteering at the VA.”

You nodded. “Sam and Riley were partners. They had some sort of pact to take care of the other’s family if something happened. Sam held up his side of the bargain whether I liked it or not. He dragged me to the open house that year and I haven’t left since. I do it for Riley, but... I don’t know... I think I do it for myself, too.”

You exhaled a heavy breath, turning away from the fireplace to face Bucky. His eyes weren’t as red as they had been, a frown no longer etched into his features. His gaze full, though heavy, and he watched you as if you carried the entire world in the palm of your hands.

“So, you have to understand... I can’t lose you to this war, too,” you choked out, squeezing at his hand to feel the firmness of it, to remind yourself that he was real and sitting right beside you and not an ocean away. “I won’t survive losing you, Bucky. I need you, okay? Please.”

He looked as though he was about to argue, but he quickly held his tongue as he watched the tears slip down over your cheeks. Reflective in the dim light from the window.

You took in a long breath, straightening your spine as you met his eye, your voice stronger than it had been since you started. “Not everyone comes home, but you did. You survived and you wandered into my life and somehow, you made me believe in love again. Even on your worst days, just being near you is the best part of mine.”

Bucky’s lips parted, a semblance of shock flashing over his eyes. You smiled at him through your tears, a hand sliding along the side of his cheek. He sighed against the touch of it, sinking into your embrace as if hadn’t ever expected to be held like that again. Your sweet Bucky, still so surprised that you could adore him as much as you did.

“So, I will take your nightmares and your panic attacks,” you told him, smiling through the trembling in your lips. “I’ll take your bad days and share the weight you carry on your shoulders. I’ll take every ounce of shame and self-loathing you have until the day comes you can hardly feel it at all. I’ll take the empty side streets with you and we’ll drive so far out into the country side we’ll never hear a firework again.”

Bucky chuckled at that, a smile pressing up along his cheek until you felt it under your palm.

“I will take anything you throw at me,” you sighed, your thumb brushing over his lips, “as long as you’re mine. As long as I’m yours. That’s all I want, Bucky. It’s all I ask. Just you.”

Bucky stared at you, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief on his features. You could see the hope burning behind his eyes, how badly he wanted to believe you, but doubt crept in and sunk its talons into his spine.

His smile sank. “You’ve... you’ve already been through so much. I don’t know if I’m worth all that.”

“You are.” You slid both hands along his cheeks, holding his gaze, until you leaned in closer, inch by inch, and pressed your lips to his forehead. Slow, lingering, you kissed his temples, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, his jawline, pausing only when you found yourself a breath away from his lips.

“You are, Bucky,” you said again, brushing your thumbs along his cheeks and catching a tear in its path. He bowed his head, a slight trembling in his jawline. It took everything you had not to collapse into him.

“Honey, I promise you, it won’t always feel like this and I’ll convince you every day that you are enough, if you need me to,” you told him, your voice shaking as you held back tears. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever again.”

You leaned forward to kiss the crown of his head and his whole body seemed to sink in response, lightening, as if he’d let go of a boulder strapped upon his shoulders. His muscles softened, the tension slipping from his spine, until slowly, he began to lift his head, hair parting away from his eyes. Though they were strained and red, a crystalized ocean current stared back at you.

You could feel the ease in his body taking over, a realization and a determination present in his stare, in his body.

His lips parted, a steady breath in. “I love you.”

***

It was the easiest thing he’d ever said; slipped from his lips as if the words had simply tumbled out on their own. Lost in how tenderly you touched him, how your hands never once left his body even as he held himself firm as stone, how you entrusted him with the most painful parts of yourself, how you gently coaxed him away from the shadows threatening to drag him back into a darkness he’d never recover from – he’d never been so certain of anything in his life.

“I love you,” he said again, just wanting to hear it one more time. His voice was stronger this time, steadier, and he could feel his cheeks curving up into a smile. It ached from disuse, but it was a pleasant feeling. A kind one.

He slipped his hand to rest on yours as it laid against his face and gently pulled it back just enough to kiss at your palm. It wasn’t often he found you at a loss for words, but it he didn’t mind the silence, not like he did before. He could still hear the slight hitch of surprise in your breath, the nervous laughter carrying in your exhale. You were smiling so wide, he wondered if it were even possible to love you more than he did in that moment.

“Really?”

God, you were so beautiful when you looked at him like that. Starry eyed and so full of hope.

He nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

You kissed him then, full on his mouth, arms thrown around his neck, and he had to stifle a laugh against your lips. He could feel the smile growing against him, laughing in between every kiss as the tears dried on your cheeks.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you beamed, drawing him in to kiss him again.

He shouldn’t be surprised after all you’d said to him tonight, but it still fluttered in his chest, still caused butterflies to swarm in his stomach, still cast a blinding light deep into his heart that pushed out the remaining darkness lingering behind. His arm snaked around your back, holding you as tight against him as he could manage. He was breathless by the time you pulled away.

“Will you stay?” he asked, suddenly feeling nervous as his eyes flickered over to the bedroom door. “I know it’s a mess out here, but—”

Your lips were on his again and he swore he’d never talk again as long as you kept kissing him like that. Slowly, you began to stand from the couch, tugging him along with you. He pulled away from your lips just long enough to navigate his way to the bedroom, stepping over broken glass and the remnants of his nightmare on the living room floor.

His bedroom was untouched, at least. The sheets were thrown haphazardly off the bed, but other than that, it was pristine in comparison to the damage he’d done out there. A shame tried to work its way deep into his chest, but he felt your hand slip into his, carefully drawing him close to the bed, and it released him to your care.

His back bounced against the mattress in tune with the sweet sound of your laughter as you crawled over him. Thighs caging his hips, you straddled his waist and he looked up at you, certain he’d find a glimmering shine of a halo behind your head. The moonlight touched over your shoulders as you leaned down against him, kissing his lips.

He’d missed you so much. Those two weeks left him in a hole he couldn’t possibly dig himself out of on his own. He was scraping at the bottom, nails filled with dirt, digging himself deeper and deeper until he could no longer see the sunlight as it touched over the surface. It wasn’t until you jumped down into the pit with him that he noticed there were notches in a wall once perfectly smooth, allowing him to crawl his way back up to the top.

You leaned back a little, breathless, as your hands slid along his chest. It was the first time he’d been so exposed in front of you, the scars and burns on full display, and he was surprised that there was no hesitancy in your touch, no reluctance as you brushed your fingertips over the corners of the damage to his skin. But you paused, eyes flickering to him.

“Can I?”

Bucky sighed, his heart aching. You knew how difficult it was for him, for you to see this part of him. He hadn't even taken off his jacket once in the first few weeks of knowing you. But now, he nodded eagerly, wanting to feel the tenderness with which you handled him upon the broken remains of his left side.

Your hands slid up over his shoulder, brushing along the bumps and ridges in his skin. Hardened tissue and raised edges. The way you touched him, like he was something beautiful and adored, made his heart swell. It wasn’t until you leaned down to press a feathered kiss to his shoulder, just over the burn marks and the glimpse of what he’d lost, that he choked back tears.

“Is it too much?” you asked, noticing the trembling in his lower lip, but he quickly shook his head.

“It’s perfect,” he replied breathily, drawing you back to his lips. “You’re perfect. I don’t deserve—”

“Hush,” you warned, kissing him to cut him off, “don’t talk about the man I love like that. You deserve every ounce of love I can give you, you hear me?”

He stared at you for a moment, studying the sincerity on your features until the gravity of what you said sank in, and slowly, he nodded. It would take time to believe that, but he hoped the more you said it, the easier it would come. He’d believe just about anything if it came from your voice.

“Let me show you.”

Bucky stilled; his throat suddenly dry.

“Let me show you, Bucky,” you asked again, your lips against his neck. He shivered. You sucked at his skin, drawing a map along his collarbone. You tongue licked at the indent by his neck. “Please.”

When you met his eyes again, Bucky wondered if maybe you saw him with the same wonder and enchantment with which he saw you. It only took the slight tilt of a nod before you crossed your arms over your waist and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head. Your bra came next and Bucky shifted uncomfortably, realizing you were still straddling him, his hardening length prominent against your thigh.

He stared up at you, studying over the curves of your breasts, the dips in your hips, untouched and exposed – so incredibly beautiful.

He stopped himself as the thought entered his mind, the wondering whether he deserved such beauty in his life, wondering how he’d managed to trick the cruel twist of karma to allow him to love a woman like this – to love you like this.

He cast away the doubt, forcing it back to the shadows where it belonged. It was easier to do that when you smiled at him like that, like he was truly worth something.

You laid down against his chest as his hand slid up along your spine, feeling for the slight dip in your back and the goosebumps following in his wake. You shivered under his touch and for the first time, Bucky remembered what it felt like to be wanted.

He couldn’t stop kissing you, even as your hands slipped to his waistband. It was like you breathed new life back into him; reviving him with every touch.

He helped you push down the band of his pants until you could easily drag it down his legs and drop it to the floor by his bed. It had been a long time since he was so vulnerable in front of a woman, but he didn’t mind when you looked at him the way you did. There was no ounce of judgement in your eyes, no cautious glance to his shoulder and the absence there. There was only love.

You slipped the remaining clothes from your body and Bucky held his breath as you climbed over him again, straddling his waist, bare.

Bucky was trembling as he reached for the drawer at his bedside. Blindly digging around for a box in the back of the drawer, he felt for the edge of foil wrapping. He brought it to his teeth, careful to rip the packaging, though as he held it in one hand, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Would you...?” he asked, a blush creeping up into his cheeks.

He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed, given that you were both naked, but this was one of those things he couldn’t do for himself. It would have felt emasculating if it weren’t for how eagerly you nodded and how good it felt as you placed the condom on his tip and slowly rolled it down his base. He closed his eyes, sinking back into the pillow at the feeling, wondering how he was going to survive this.

“You alright there, honey?” you called, giggling under your breath and, damn, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, his hand sliding up along your waist, thumb brushing over your breast. He tried to catch the whimper as it left his lips to no avail.

You smirked. “I think we’ve waited long enough. Don’t you think?”

You sank down on him and he choked back a moan, embarrassingly loud, but it only seemed to spur you on as you rolled your hips, giving him little time to adjust. You were so tight, squeezing around him, and – holy shit – when you dragged yourself against him, using him as you sought out the angle you were looking for, he’d never felt anything like it.

He held his breath, focusing on the ceiling as he listened to the sweet sounds you made as your hands curled against his chest, hair falling down into your face. He knew he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted— hell, he would have stayed in you like this for hours if he could have – and it was taking near everything he had to hold out long enough for you to finish.

Thankfully, you were just as riled up as he was – high on missing him, aching in the distance – and Bucky gasped as he felt your walls clench around him with the rushed circles between your legs. You picked up in pace and Bucky found himself meeting you half way, thrusting up into you as he braced himself on the headboard.

“Oh God – Bucky,” you whimpered, your chest falling down to his, unable to hold yourself up. He kissed your neck, his hand sliding from around the wooden of the baseboard to grip your hips.

If he could, he would have had a hand on your breast, teasing at the nipple, the other sliding down to the space between your bodies, rubbing circles on the nerves that left you so breathless you could hardly hold yourself up. But he was learning again, getting used to his body and his limits, and all he could focus on was holding you, guiding your hips, giving him leverage to fill you whole.

Judging from the sounds you were making, your body molding like puddy against him, you didn’t mind at all.

“I’m close,” you gasped, breath hot against his neck. “Ah, God, Bucky... I’m-- I’m--”

He could feel it before the words left your lips, the clench in your walls, the spasms in your muscles that left you weak against him, overstimulated as you pulled your hand away from your clit. Your cries gave him the permission he needed to let go, only a few more thrusts was all it took, and he shuttered as he came.

Breathless, hardly able to control the laugh as it bubbled in his chest, Bucky could hardly believe that he started this night in the darkest place he’d been in months, only to end up lying here with you, so full of light and love he could hardly stand it.

He didn’t let you go at first, just wanting to hold you a little longer. He felt the sweet touch of your lips as they trailed along his neck, smile brimming against his ear. Then slowly, you rolled off of him, gently removing the condom and tossing it to the bin. A shiver slipped up his spine at the touch.

“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” Bucky confessed as you laid against his chest, curling up to his side. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Don’t let me do that again, okay? I can’t stand to go another day without you.”

You smiled against his chest, your fingers tracing along the lines on his shoulder, touching over old scars and burns. You traced them as if they were simply lines on his body, just another piece of him worth loving, worth memorizing. He wondered if the next time he saw them in the mirror, he might remember this moment and see them for something more than the evidence of his loss that day. Maybe, he might see them the way you did – as evidence of his survival.

“I love you,” you sighed and Bucky felt his heart swell; it grew and expanded so wide inside his chest, he wondered if his bones might bend to make room as it split him so lovely at the seams.

“I love you, too.” He curled his arm tighter around your shoulders, drawing you close to his side. Over your shoulder, a cast of moonlight seeped in through the windows, touching over your skin, illuminating the room in a gentle glow. He closed his eyes as sleep drew him near, comforted by the patterns you drew against his shoulder.

When he fell asleep, he fell willingly – protected in your embrace, safe, from the nightmares laying in wake.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you

1K notes · View notes

laeorinel · 2 years ago

Text

FFXIV Write 2022 - DAY 30

Prompt - Sojourn

It's finally over T.T

Over 28k words written over this month and not a day missed. My brain is broken and needs a rest.

Had to finish this month off with shameless fluffy shippy nonsense.

Translation for "Khairaa" = my love.

Vague spoilers for 5.3 Shadowbringers. Thancred x Wol

Thancred cursed his body as another padded arrow slammed into his chest. He knew getting back into the same physical shape he had been in the First would take time. Even with Krile's and Master Matoya's work, his body had effectively been wasting away in the Source, and by the Twelve could he tell.

His muscles burned and ached as he moved to dodge out of the way of another barrage of arrows, deflecting a few with the practice sword he was using in place of a Gunblade. He wished he could claim it was getting easier, but progress was painfully slow. What both helped and hindered him was the one he was training with. When he had asked Samara to help him train, he had made the crucial mistake of asking her to go all out.

So she did. Samara held nothing back, moving and fighting just as she would in a real combat scenario. Her padded arrows hit with pinpoint accuracy and with enough force that they would likely leave bruises. Whenever her barrage would force him back, she would move forward, collecting discarded arrows as she did. Right now, he felt as though he was being herded, arrows flying just an ilm past his left shoulder, forcing him to retreat in the opposite direction.

She was boxing him in, forcing him towards the cliff at the back of their training range. Were they on the First, it would be little issue for him to run up the cliff a few paces and use it as a springboard of sorts to dive off and close the distance between them. Right now, he wasn't overly confident that he could run up the wall without falling flat on his back. Not that he would even have a chance to try as he heard the rush of footsteps coming towards him. He waited until the last moment to swing his sword in a wide arc, but he saw little more than a blur of pale skin and black scales drop low to the ground before diving up, two practice daggers pointed towards his chest.

With a sigh, he dropped his sword, holding his hands up in front of him. "I concede…again."

Samara smirked up at him as she tucked her daggers away. "You are getting better. The fight lasted longer that time."

"If you say so. I still could not land a hit on you." Thancred says as he tentatively rolls his shoulders, muscles bordering on the verge of cramping.

"And it will likely be many moons before you can, even once you regain your strength."

Thancred rolled his eyes before pulling the woman close, voice dipping lower as he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers. "Is that so…well, I guess I will just have to settle for being your shield then. Such a hardship."

A rumble in the distance drew the pair's attention. They had been so focused on the sparring session both had overlooked a rather mean-looking storm forming on the horizon that was now right above them. The rumble of thunder was the only warning they had before the heavens opened; Thanalan's rainy season had finally arrived.

Thancred and Samara let out a stream of curses before making a run for a nearby cave where they had stored some of their belongings; both were soaking wet by the time they reached the entrance. Both of them had spent enough time in Thanalan to know that rain storms like this tended to last for the better part of a day or more. It seems they would be spending more time away from Mor Dhona together than originally planned.

Thancred slumped down to the ground heavily, a weary chuckle leaving him as he looked out the cave entrance, rain coming down thick and fast. "Not quite how I pictured our first getaway."

Samara set her bow and quiver down to the side before moving over to rummage around in the saddlebags attached to Altun, the Baras she had brought back from the Steppe. She didn't look up from the bags as she spoke. "You had already made plans for something like that?

Thancred shrugged, head leaning back against the rock. "Nothing elaborate. Just a brief sojourn somewhere. Kugane perhaps? In all the times I passed through there, I've never had the chance to visit their renowned hot springs. If rumours are true, they have private springs for couples."

He watched as she moved around their makeshift home for the night, making a firepit from various pieces of dried wood and sticks she had gathered earlier out of habit. Her silence dragged on. Had he said something that upset her? "Samara?"

"Hm? Oh…it's nothing. I just…never really thought of doing anything like that. To go somewhere purely to relax. It sounds…nice. Especially if you were there." Her voice quietened towards the end, a faint blush covering her pale cheeks.

He couldn't help but chuckle a little at her blushing at such a thought, as though going somewhere with your partner was something scandalous. Then again, from what he had been able to piece together, relationships like this were somewhat new territory for her.

"Well then, maybe we could arrange something once we return to Mor Dhona? We may as well take what moments of peace we can. Once I am back to full strength, I imagine I will be busy. My contacts are keeping me up to date with the situation in Garlemald, but I would rather see it all with my own eyes."

Samara sighs, holding her hands over the fire pit to warm them. "Do you ever stop thinking about work?"

"I just…do not want to repeat past mistakes." he frowns, his gaze fixed on Samara's back, where he knew he could find a rather large burn scar towards her shoulder and long jagged scars by her ribs. The whole debacle around Ifrit still weighed heavy. Too many died that day because of him, and then there was the mess with Lahabrea. Too many scars on her body were a result of his carelessness.

Samara shakes her head, knowing the thoughts that are likely going through Thancreds mind, muttering under her breath. "Silly man. You know I blame you for none of it. Now, come here." she then tries to guide him down to rest with his head in her lap.

He resists at first but the aches and pains in his body protest, begging him to take this moment of relief. He shuffles around, sighing and groaning in discomfort before he is lying on his side, head in her lap, one of her hands gently running her fingers through his hair. Tension begins to fade from his body as exhaustion sets in. As he fights against slumber, he lifts one free hand to grab hold one of hers, holding it gently as he loses the battle. He wants to say something, but his mind is so clouded he struggles to form words, so he just squeezes her hand, hoping that small gesture says enough.

Samara smiles, looking down at Thancred as his eyes close and his breathing evens out, her fingers still lightly combing through his hair. "Rest, Khairaa. If only for a little while. The world and all its troubles can wait."

#ffxiv write 2022 #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv fanfiction #thancred x wol #wolcred #thancred waters #au ra warrior of light

8 notes · View notes

baepsaesbae · 4 years ago

Text

Masked Windfall

Pairing— Park Jimin x reader x Jeon Jungkook

Genre— SMUT, strangers to lovers au

Warnings— Switch!Jimin, Dom!Jungkook, Switch!reader, threesome, explicit unprotected and somewhat rough sex (stay safe my friends), double penetration (but like a bj and in your business at the same time? I’m bad with terminology I’m sorry), brief handjob, fingering, multiple orgasms, a booty slap, praise kink, slight derogatory kink, brief guy on guy action, nipple play, hair pulling, lots of kissing, teasing, swearing, PHEW I think that’s all? Please let me know if I forgot something

Word Count— 6k

Win(d)fôl: a piece of unexpected good fortune || After a bad breakup, you’ve given up on the prospect of a relationship, and on romance in general. Things take a turn once you get dragged to a mysterious party an encounter an alluring stranger.

A/N— Happy 2021~ I hope you guys enjoy this sinful fic! This was the first fic I ever wrote a threesome scene for and I was quite happy with how it turned out. Reviews and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Ever since your breakup, it was as if love was in the air for everyone but you. Seeing happy couples everywhere served as a constant reminder of your bitter split with your longtime boyfriend. Your jerk ex-boyfriend dumped you right before the holiday season, even after you had planned to spend Christmas and New Years’ with him. Left dejected and inconsolable, you gave up on the idea of romance.

“You gotta stop moping around,” your friend, Chungha, tried to cheer you up.

Chungha was single too, but by choice. Boys (and girls) were constantly flinging themselves at her. She didn’t care for a relationship at this time, and would rather opt for meaningless one night stands.

“Come with me tonight!” she excitedly shoved a flyer in your face.

“Love is Out, Lust is In! An exciting one night event dedicated to adventurous singles who just want to have fun…” you read the flyer aloud, “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“Girl, you gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself! It’s not your fault that that idiot dumped you. To be honest, I always thought you could do so much better,” Chungha rubbed your back, “I’m not gonna force you to meet anyone new, but one night out can’t hurt. You might even have a serendipitous encounter!”

“Fine, I’ll go. But just to watch over you, I don’t want some creep to follow you around all night,” you caved in.

“I love my little knight in shining armor! This’ll be so fun,” she excitedly clung onto your arm, “I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something sexy! I think the motif is black? Something appropriate for an anti-lovey dovey stuff.”

It was nearly time for Chungha to pick you up. You concluded that dressing up for the first time in ages was the right move. Maybe it was about damn time to move on from your past.

“Ohhh girl you look amazing!” Chungha praised as you stepped outside, “There’s no way you WON’T be getting dicked down tonight.”

“Oh hush, before I change my mind. I haven’t worn anything this revealing in forever,” you tried to hide your embarrassment.

You were wearing a black mesh top that revealed your bra (the one that makes your boobs look the best of course) paired with a flattering skirt. You felt sexy, but you didn’t have the confidence that you used to. Chungha also looked amazing, but that was a given.

“Where did you learn about this event?” you asked as she drove.

“My friends in the cabaret club told me about it,” she answered.

“You have friends who work in a cabaret club? That’s cool,” you mused as you gazed out the window.

“Not exactly. It’s just called that; it’s really just a group of girls who like to brunch on the weekends. The place we’re going to is known for being a bit secretive,” she smiled.

“What does that mean?” you start to get anxious.

“You’ll see!” she said gleefully.

The venue looked more like some millionaire’s mansion. The property was stowed away at the end of a sketchy road that was more akin to a beaten up dirt path. However, you saw that the lot in front of the house was littered with fancy cars; from G Wagons to Bugattis. The guests emerging from the vehicles all looked like celebrities.

“Where the hell are we?” you asked Chungha.

“Not quite sure, but I can’t wait to find out,” she was also awestruck.

Upon arrival, a gentleman stationed at the entrance requested for your invitation. Chungha pulled out a fancy envelope and casually handed it to him. It looked far more formal than the flyer she showed you earlier.

“Is this your plus one?” he gruffly asked.

“Yep,” Chungha linked her arm in yours.

“Very well. Here are your masks. Enjoy your stay,” he responded curtly.

“Masks? Chungha, seriously. Where the hell are we? I was picturing some dingy club based off of the flyer you showed me. Not to mention that I am drastically underdressed,” you admitted as you helped her put on her mask.

Chungha took the sparkly white mask that was adorned with feathers, which was fitting since it made her look even more angelic. Your mask was matte black accented with gold trimmings. It was far more elegant than the outfit you were wearing.

“Okay, I confess. I made the flyer. I knew you’d decline if I told you it was actually a swanky invite only shindig. I’m sorry for lying! I just really wanted to take you out,” she pouted.

Her puppy dog eyes worked on you every time.

“I forgive you. I don’t know if I’d ever get to experience something like this without you anyway,” you pulled her in for a hug.

“Aw yay! Alright, we’re gonna have a bunch of fun tonight! Also, you look hot. Don’t worry about what you look like. Plus, I have a feeling that people aren’t gonna care,” she says as soon as you both enter the foyer.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the most sumptuous house imaginable. The foyer opened the house up to two grand staircases. The baroque decor screamed nothing but lavish expectations for the rest of the house. Chungha led the way into the large room past the staircases. The room was even more magnificent than the entrance, with white marble pillars creating the doorways.

The place was bustling with activity. Once you finished admiring the place, your attention turned to the guests. Some women were wearing seductive gowns, while others were only wearing beautiful (and probably extremely expensive) lingerie. All of the men were wearing suits or tuxedos. With the motley of outfits you observed, you figured what you were wearing really wasn’t that strange.

“Drinks ladies?” a waitress materialized from thin air.

“Yes please! Thanks,” Chungha quickly grabbed two glasses.

Your eyes widened as the waitress walked away. She was wearing a thin white sheet that was completely see through, and she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

You realized that this must have been their uniform, as the rest of the servers were dressed the same way. Both males and females.

“CHUNGHA!” a shrill voice cut through the air.

“Ah hey! Thank you so much for inviting me!” Chungha greeted the girl who called out to her.

“Of course! I live for these parties! I’ve never seen hotter men anywhere else,” the girl winked, “My uncle wants the guests to know that all of the servers are available. All the rooms upstairs are unlocked, unless they’re being used of course. I hope you ladies get a good catch tonight!” the girl quickly hugged both of you before scampering away.

“The servers are all available…? For what?” you shot a confused look to Chungha.

“I think you can figure that out,” she smiled sheepishly.

“Chungha, did you invite me to a freaking orgy!?” you cried out.

“You said you wanted to watch over me!” she playfully argued, “You’re already here, ___. You might as well try to enjoy yourself.”

“I guess I’ll settle for people watching,” you sighed.

“Oh! I see someone I know, I’ll be right back,” Chungha squeezed your arm before disappearing into the crowd.

After snatching another drink from a scandalously clad waiter, you retreated to an empty corner. You hoped to observe the guests unnoticed and unbothered. After about half an hour, you noticed an odd pattern. People would woo their target, disappear for a bit, and then return to continue the hunt. Their clothing was often disheveled once they resurfaced, but it didn’t really matter when they were bound to be torn off again.

“Bored?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

“I’m thoroughly entertained,” you answered without taking your eyes off of the party.

“I think I could bring you more entertainment,” the man suggested as he gripped your hips.

“Get your hands off of me!” you push him off.

The assailant was an older man, at least 30 years older than you, and he seemed bewildered that you turned him down. His breath reeked of alcohol, and the dilation of his eyes alluded to his other indulgences of the night.

“I was promised that everyone at this party wanted to have some fun,” he angrily grasped your arm.

You cried out in pain. You were about to punch him in the face until someone else beat you to it. The man crumpled to the ground clutching his bloody nose.

“You little shit! I’ll find out who you are and ruin your life!” the man threatened.

“Mind your tone, worm. Or do I need to beat you senseless to remind you of your place?” your savior shot a baleful glare at the pathetic man who now cowered in fear.

“Are you okay?” your rescuer asked in a soft tone after the man was out of sight.

“Much better now, thank you. That guy was crazy. I’m ___,” you raised your hand for a handshake.

“I’m Jimin. Pleasure to meet you,” he delicately kissed your hand.

His intricate silver mask matched his hair. Even with his face half covered, you could tell that he was remarkably handsome. His dark suit made him look professional yet charming. You felt out of place standing beside him.

“Have you found a partner yet?” he asked bluntly.

“I’m not looking for one; I’m just here to take care of my friend. I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.

“Why not? I know half of your face is hidden, but I’m willing to bet that you’re more gorgeous than half the people here. I like your style, it shows that you don’t really care for the norm,” Jimin gave you a thumbs up.

Even though it was meant as a compliment, it was off putting to know that you really did stick out like a sore thumb.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, “Have you found yours?”

“Nah, I hate big parties like this. Especially this one,” he shrugged.

“Then why are you here?” you figured that he’d have a line of women begging to sleep with him.

“Much like you, I’m watching over a friend. However, I have lost track of him. Where’s your friend?”

“I lost track of her too,” you laughed.

“If you don’t mind, could we go somewhere quieter? I’d love to get to know you better. Wait, not like that. I genuinely mean I’d like to have a conversation with you,” his flushed cheeks made him even cuter.

“Sure, lead the way, my noble hero,” you took his hand in yours.

It was a bold move, and you usually preferred to play it safe. Tonight was different. You’ll probably never see this guy again. Where’s the harm in flirting a little?

“Of course, my lady,” he played along.

He led you outside to the gardens. Fairy lights were strung up everywhere, giving the gardens an inviting aura. Tall shrubbery caught your eye. Jimin’s eyes followed your gaze.

“It’s a maze,” he said, observing your curiosity.

“This place has an actual labyrinth?” your eyes widened in disbelief.

“Wanna go explore it? I can’t guarantee you that we won’t get lost,” he offered.

“Yes please!” your eyes lit up.

Jimin couldn’t help but smile at your ebullience. How did someone so sweet end up in a twisted place like this?

“Can we take off these silly masks now? I hate wearing mine,” Jimin squeezed your hand.

“Sure, I don’t care. I apologize in advance if you go blind after seeing my face,” you jested.

You both took a moment to soak in each other’s true appearances. Jimin was more handsome than you could’ve dreamt. His individually delicate features attributed to an overall godly image that you had a hard time believing was real.

“Even more beautiful than I imagined,” Jimin acknowledged you with an approving smile, “Let’s ditch this stupid soiree,” he held out his arm for you.

Abandoning the masks on the ground, you practically dragged Jimin into the labyrinth. Corn mazes at Fall Festivals were fun, but this was the real deal. The hedges were at least 3 meters tall. No one would be able to find you if you actually got lost here.

“I think I heard that the trick is to keep to the right wall,” Jimin explained.

“Why don’t we take turns choosing which way to go? Unless you’re scared of getting lost,” you teased.

“Don’t get mad at me when we’ve been stuck in here for days,” he laughed.

You traversed the maze hand in hand with Jimin. The conversation began to flow naturally. Jimin listened to you intently and replied thoughtfully.

The night darkened as the party was left further behind. Normally, this eerie setting would frighten you, but your company made it bearable. Nothing but the moonlight lit your path now. You were too busy enjoying yourself to realize that you both were hopelessly lost.

“I hope you don’t mind me pointing out that this is the third dead end we’ve encountered in the past two minutes,” Jimin elucidated once you found yourselves staring at a green barrier yet again.

“Do you think someone will come to rescue us?” you started to panic.

“Definitely not tonight. Probably not tomorrow either,” Jimin answered brusquely.

“Let’s retrace our steps again. I might end up eating you if we really do get stuck out here,” you tried to joke.

“Eat me?” Jimin chuckled, “My dear, what if I end up eating you?”

“Sorry pretty boy, but I feel like I could easily beat your ass in hand to hand combat,” you laugh as you turn to leave.

Suddenly, your back was being pinned against a hedge. Jimin placed one of his hands on your shoulder and the other one on your waist.

“Let me rephrase that. What if I end up eating you out?” he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“I might enjoy that. However,” you quickly hook your leg around his knee to dead leg him.

Jimin’s surprise gave you the opportunity to knock him to the ground. You wrapped your right arm around his left arm, effectively pinning him down. You firmly gripped his left wrist with the same arm, rendering both of his arms useless.

“I don’t think you’re capable of doing that right now,” you fake a pout as your free hand wanders from his chest down to his crotch.

He was already somewhat hard when you began to palm him through his pants. You planted a soft kiss on his neck, sucking slightly before breaking contact. Jimin moaned at the sensation, his hips bucking up into your hand.

“What do you want, pretty boy?” you whispered in his ear as you cupped his length in your hand.

“Oh my god I want to fuck you,” he pleaded.

“You’re in no position to fuck anyone,” you reminded him, tightening your grip on his arms.

“I want you to fuck me, ___,” Jimin’s whines grew desperate.

“Is that so?” you say as you unzip his pants, “Here outside? On the ground? That’s a bit improper for a prince like you, don’t you think?”

His erection was fully exposed now. You slowly pumped him, pleased with his length. It took every bit of self-control to not immediately pounce on his dick. You traced your thumb around the soft tip, causing him to moan again.

“I don’t care. I just need my cock buried in you,” Jimin replied between moans.

“You’re so needy. I guess I could help you out,” you release him from your clutches.

Jimin instantly knocked you onto your back as soon as he was freed. He pinned you the same way you pinned him. You were both impressed and shocked that he learned how to do it already.

“That was a cheeky display. Very hot. I admit that I’ve never begged for pussy before, so props to you,” Jimin awarded you plaudits.

His free hand snaked its way down to your clothed pussy, pleased to find that you were already wet. He toyed with your clit through the fabric of your panties. He relished watching your squirm beneath him.

“It’s not so fun being pinned down, huh?” he kissed your neck in a similar fashion, except he ended his kiss with forceful suckling that was sure to leave a mark.

“I don’t know, it’s kind of fun,” you tried to keep your cool, but were failing miserably.

“Do you want me to touch you, my dear ___?” Jimin asked sweetly.

“Please do,” you exhaled with exasperation.

“You can beg better than that,” he admonished.

“Jimin, fuck me until I forget my own name,” you begged.

“You’ll only know my name by the end of tonight,” Jimin promised as he pulled your panties aside.

He slid in a finger to test how wet you were. You squealed with delight as he easily stuck in two fingers. He expertly curled them in you, grazing your g-spot. Your body tried to move to cope with the pleasure, but Jimin refused to let you go.

“You’re staying right here until I say so. I enjoyed going along with your power play, but you have to learn that I’m the one in charge,” he smirked.

His thumb circled your clit as he mercilessly fingered you. Your legs spasmed as your orgasm led a wave of euphoria across your body.

“Jimin, I’m--oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you cried out.

Jimin helped you ride it out, not slowing down his pace. However, he still didn’t slow down afterward. Your clit was oversensitive and tears began to well in your eyes.

“You’re beautiful when you cum, I want to see it again,” he praised as his pace quickened yet again.

It wasn’t long before your second orgasm hit. The bliss was more intense this time, causing you to cry out even louder. Jimin finally pulled his fingers out of you, then promptly popped them into his mouth.

“You taste like a delicacy,” he said after licking his lips, “You ready to take this cock?”

You nodded silently, as you were attempting to catch your breath.

Jimin aligned his hips with yours. He tantalizingly ran his dick along your wet folds. His tip eventually teased your entrance by barely entering before he took it out again. He loved watching your body beg to be fucked; your hips seemed to move by themselves as they tried to buck into him.

“Jimin, I can’t take this anymore. Stick it in already!” you yelled.

“So impatient,” Jimin chuckled, “Ready?”

“Yes!”

Jimin slowly inserted himself in you. You groaned at the feeling of finally being stretched out by his cock. His tip was fully inside you when a commotion interrupted him.

“We’re fucking lost bro,” a guy said.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you listened to me in the first place!” his companion retorted.

Jimin immediately pulled out and helped you up. He shoved his erection into his pants before leaning against a hedge to blend into the shadow.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to go in!” the first man bickered back.

“I said ‘I bet no one else is in there, let’s check it out’”, his companion explained.

“Okay, well now we’re lost. We haven’t even seen a single person since we’ve entered.”

Jimin took you by the hand and quietly led you out of the dead end. He didn’t know where the interrupters were, but he simply went in the opposite direction of their voices.

“We’re all alone now. Pull down your pants, Hobi,” you heard one of the guys say.

“Make me, Yoongi,” the other guy challenged.

“You won’t be so cheeky when my balls are in your mouth,” Yoongi replied, his voice suddenly lower and domineering.

The sound of clothes being ripped off mixed with passionate groans and wet noises grew further away as Jimin navigated through the maze.

“They sound like they’re having fun,” you broke the silence.

“That should have been us,” Jimin was obviously annoyed, “I’m gonna get us the fuck out of this goddamn maze. I swear to god, I’m going to dick you down properly tonight.”

You didn’t know which was more impressive: sheer luck or Jimin’s determination. Either way, one of those things (or maybe some of both) allowed both of you to finally emerge from the maze’s clutches.

Jimin dragged you back to the mansion while completely ignoring everyone who called out to him. You’re not surprised by his popularity; this man looks like he was carved by God himself.

The party had only escalated inside the mansion. Guests had started to forgo public decency altogether. You saw at least three explicit acts of fornication on your way up to the private rooms.

Once upstairs, you heard nothing but people deep in the throes of passion on the other side of just about every door. Jimin led you past them all, not even stopping in front of the ones indicated as ‘vacant’. At the end of the neverending hall was a large ornate wooden door. Its style clashed with the sleek marble that decorated the rest of the mansion.

Jimin whipped out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. You weren’t prepared for what was on the other side. Unlike the modern style that fitted the rest of the house, this room was decorated with wood.

The carved wooden furniture gleamed brightly due to their polish. The room itself was huge. A king sized bed awaited you at the opposite wall. Elegant curtains draped around the bed, reminding you of the beds royalty would use in movies. Even though the room gave off a cozy aura, it still boasted opulence.

“You like it?” Jimin asked once he saw you gazing around the room in awe.

“It’s beautiful. It feels like I’m in some Elvish Woodland King’s room or something,” you spoke honestly.

“That’s high praise,” he chuckled, “C’mon. I believe we have some unfinished business,” he pulled you onto the bed.

Jimin kissed your neck, peppering in nibbles that made you shudder. You slipped off your skirt and panties as he fondled your breasts. You helped him undress as you threw off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. You held back a gasp when his abs and toned chest were revealed. You figured he was fit, but you didn’t realize how fit.

His fingers found their way back into your pussy. Jimin sucked on your neck as his nimble fingers made you wetter by the second. Your back arched as your moaned in pleasure when his thumb played with your clit.

“I’m so fucking wet, Jimin,” you breathed into his ear.

“All for me, baby?” he cooed.

“Who else? Honestly, I’ve never been this aroused in my life,” you admitted.

“I’m happy I could change that for you. If you liked my fingers that much, let’s see what my cock can do for you,” he winked as he tugged off his pants.

Jimin spread your legs open as far as they could go. He didn’t have the patience to tease you this time. He filled your pussy up with the entirety of his cock. You relished the stretch; you’ve been waiting all night for this the moment you laid eyes on him.

Jimin began vigorously thrusting into you. The sound of his hips slamming into you coupled with the wet noises of your sopping pussy were drowned out by moans from both parties. Hearing Jimin’s grunts only turned you on more, and the same could be said whenever Jimin heard your melodic moans.

Jimin leaned over to makeout with you, his tongue dipping between your parted lips. You clawed at his back while you kissed him back with ferocious reciprocity. You were getting close to climaxing yet again.

“Jimin, I’m so--”

“Missionary? I know you can do better than that,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted you.

“Fuck off, can’t you see that I’m busy?” Jimin replied angrily, yet he never stopped fucking you.

You were so embarrassed that you grabbed a pillow to hide your face. One person seeing you like this was already flustering enough, but two? Although your mind immediately went to shaming you for being in such a compromising position, it was also kind of a turn on.

“Aw, is she shy? That’s cute,” the unfamiliar boy said.

“What do you want?” Jimin finally pulled out to actually hold a conversation with the intruder.

“I got bored. I figured I’d come in here and jack off or something. I didn’t think you’d be using it,” the voice got closer.

“Well, I am. So get lost,” Jimin growled.

Suddenly, the pillow that covered your face was yanked off. Looking down at you was a man whose beauty rivaled Jimin’s (though you didn’t think that was possible). The man had more of a boyish devil-may-care look. His long dark hair framed his face perfectly, as it showed off his sharp jawline. He traced a finger from your cheek down to your chin.

“She’s cute,” he gave Jimin an approving nod.

“Yeah, and she’s mine. Go away, Jungkook,” Jimin was getting more frustrated by the second.

“Yours? Are you guys dating already?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“No, but--”

“Then it should be fine if I did this,” Jungkook cupped your face with one hand as he bent down to kiss you.

“Jungkook!” Jimin threw a pillow at him.

Jungkook chuckled as the pillow harmlessly bounced off of him. He deepened the kiss, and soon your tongues were swirling over each other. One of his hands wandered over to your breasts. He pinched your nipple, causing you to gasp into his mouth.

“Oh, she’s so sensitive,” Jungkook smirked, “Let me play with her after you.”

“She’s not a toy,” Jimin defended you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly.

“What?” both of the boys asked in unison.

“You can both use me...however you like,” you looked away shyly, bewildered at what you had just said.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Jungkook grinned.

“You’re too sweet for your own good, ___. Are you sure?” Jimin asked.

You simply nodded, not able to make eye contact with either of them.

“Alright, baby. Let me take care of you first. Jungkook, you can watch how a man properly fucks a lady,” Jimin glared at Jungkook.

Jungkook stripped down to his underwear as Jimin flipped you onto your knees. You moaned loudly as he started hitting it from the back. This position allowed him to penetrate you even deeper. You buried your face in the sheets in an attempt to muffle your whines.

“Nuh uh,” Jimin tsked as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.

He pulled your head up, exposing your lustful moans. He thrusted harder when he heard you. You opened your eyes to find Jungkook intently staring at you. Feeling cheeky, you made a ‘come here’ motion with one of your pointer fingers.

Jungkook happily obliged. Instead of directly kissing you, he licked up your neck, causing you to shudder. He sucked lightly on your neck as he once again played with your boobs.

“You’re not mad, Jimin?” he was surprised.

“She got wetter. Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” Jimin was lost in pure bliss.

Jungkook pulled you into another heated makeout session. You periodically moaned into his mouth whenever he tugged at your nipples. You whined as he broke the kiss.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook stroked your cheek, “Wanna try something?” he asked.

You eagerly nodded. It was hard to think when one gorgeous man was making out with you and pinching your nipples, while another gorgeous man was roughly fucking you from behind.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” Jungkook ordered.

You complied, opening as wide as you could. You watched Jungkook reveal his hard cock, which made your mouth water. His dick was bigger than Jimin’s, but less girthy. It had a little curve that made it look prettier for some reason.

“Want me to put it in? I’d love to see how deep you can take it,” Jungkook stroked his cock.

“I’ll take it all,” you said confidently.

Jungkook smiled at your determination. He lightly placed the tip onto your tongue. You twirled your tongue around it, making Jungkook moan with surprise.

“Maybe she’s not as shy as I thought,” he said to Jimin.

Jimin harshly spanked your ass, causing you to jerk forward. You heard him chuckle behind you.

“I love it when good girls go bad. They’re always the most fun,” Jimin reached his hand around you to play with your clit.

You almost lost control in your arms and fell forward when Jungkook grabbed you.

“You have to be a good girl and hold yourself up. We can fuck you from both sides if you do that, babygirl,” Jungkook ran his thumb along your drooly lips.

You propped yourself back up on your arms and opened your mouth again for Jungkook. He patted your head in approval before placing his dick back onto your tongue. He began pushing himself into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Blink twice if it’s too much,” Jungkook instructed.

To his surprise, you managed to take in his full length. You kept gagging since Jimin was thrusting you forward, but that just made it feel better for Jungkook. Jungkook let you know that he was going to start face fucking you, to which you nodded in response. Well, as much as you could nod while his penis was in your mouth.

It didn’t take long for both of the both to boys to fuck you in unison. They rhythmically pulled out and thrusted into you at the exact same time. The intensity of everything turned you on so much, you could feel your juices running down your legs.

Your climax hit you like a truck. Your legs spasmed under you as you cried and gagged on Jungkook’s dick. The feeling of you cumming on Jimin’s cock brought him to the edge. Almost immediately after, Jimin pulled out and came all over your ass.

“Switch places with me,” Jungkook instructed Jimin, “You didn’t think you were done yet, did you?” he winked at you before pulling his dick out of your mouth.

Your sensitivity was through the roof. Jungkook didn’t give you any warning before he inserted himself in you. Jungkook went even deeper than Jimin, and your legs were on the verge of giving out.

“It looks like she can’t hold herself anymore,” Jimin observed with a sly smile.

“I guess I have to do all the work. Stupid slut,” Jungkook groaned, abruptly snatching your arms.

He chuckled when you momentarily fell forward onto your face, but he easily lifted you back up by pulling back on your wrists. You’ve never been roughly restrained like that before, but you wouldn’t complain. Jungkook’s powerful thighs slammed into you repeatedly.

You couldn’t begin to comprehend how sinful you looked: titties bouncing, messy hair, and a lustful expression that rivaled that of succubi themselves. Not to mention you were practically glowing from the film of sweat that developed over the night.

“I’m jealous that he’s kissed you more than I have,” Jimin pouted before he cupped your face.

Wriggling underneath you, Jimin made it easier for you to kiss him. His pillowy lips felt heavenly as he playfully fondled your breasts. He didn’t twist or pinch your nipples like Jungkook did. Instead, he massaged them in a way that still felt delightful.

“Dude, your junk is really close to mine,” Jungkook complained.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jimin responded between your kisses.

Jungkook’s pace started getting sloppy. You could tell he was close just by his irregular breaths. The room was filled with lewd sounds. Jungkook’s grunts, Jimin’s moans, and your mewls all blended into a chorus of carnal pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook stuttered before pulling out.

You felt his hot juices splatter across your backside. You toppled onto Jimin when Jungkook let go of your wrists. Jimin just chuckled and held you in a warm embrace.

“You did so well, ___,” he praised before kissing your forehead.

“Was that your first threesome? If so, I’m impressed,” Jungkook cleaned you up with a warm washcloth.

“Mhm,” was all you could muster up to answer his question.

“She’s pretty out of it. Should she stay here for the night?” Jimin asked Jungkook.

“You’re offering to house her? You must have really loved her pussy,” Jungkook laughed.

“Shut up, I’m being serious. I don’t want to let her go back out there to those animals,” Jimin disclosed.

“Did she come alone?” Jungkook sat at the foot of the bed.

“She said she was watching a friend...I don’t think she mentioned who though. Hey, ___, darling, who did you come with?” Jimin gently questioned.

“Chungha,” you said meekly.

“Holy shit. Everyone has been trying to get with her all night,” Jungkook was shocked, “Yeah, I think her friend will be fine on her own. I can watch after her if you want.”

“By watch you mean fuck?” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” Jungkook replied cheekily, “You’ve been the most fun I’ve had in a while though,” Jungkook affectionately began scratching your back.

Your eyelids were getting heavier with each passing moment. You instinctively clutched onto Jimin tighter. You’ve always been a cuddler when it was time to sleep.

“I’m gonna go, want me to lock the door?” you heard Jungkook say.

“Yes please. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jimin sent him off.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked while stroking your hair.

“Mhm. And hungry,” you said half asleep.

“What would you like to eat?” Jimin inquired.

“Grilled cheese,” you said without skipping a beat.

“Just grilled cheese? I could get you anything you want. Lobster, caviar, takoyaki, or maybe even steak?” Jimin was eager to take care of you.

“What time is it?” you asked groggily.

“Uh, a little past 1am.”

“It’s time for a midnight snack. And grilled cheese is the perfect midnight snack,” you nodded your head to confirm your reasoning.

“God, you’re adorable. Alright, a grilled cheese will be here soon,” he kissed your forehead again.

“You go make it?” you pouted, not wanting him to leave your side.

“No, I just texted one of the chefs,” he answered.

“Oh, you’re friends with a chef? That’s nice.”

“Somewhat? They work for my father.”

“Is your father the head chef?”

“No, he’s a businessman,” Jimin chuckled.

“Do you like business? Like your father?”

“No, I actually detest it. My father’s riches mean nothing if he can’t even love his family. He does ridiculous things to showcase his ‘love’ but I don’t buy it. Like this stupid fucking party that he throws every year. His excuse is that he’s providing any luxury money can buy. It’s all just bullshit,” Jimin sounded upset.

“This party? Your dad hosted it?” intrigue stirred you from your sleepy state.

“Yeah, this is the house I grew up in. This is my room,” Jimin admitted.

You were silent for a bit before responding, “I’m sorry your dad is a dick.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. At least one good thing came out of tonight,” he squeezed you tighter.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Jimin retrieved the delivery. Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d be eating grilled cheese off of a silver platter. Jimin ate quietly beside you.

“I don’t know if this is too forward, but would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” he finally piped up.

“I literally can’t think of anyone that has seen me more intimately than you. Well, besides Jungkook. Of course, I’ll go on a date with you,” you leaned over to kiss Jimin’s nose.

“I guess the dating timeline is a little off since you’re spending the night here too,” Jimin laughed before stopping himself, “Wait, you are spending the night, right?”

“I have no idea where Chungha is, and she’s my ride,” you shrugged.

“You’re welcome to say here if you’d like,” he offered.

“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you teased.

With a tummy full of grilled cheese, it didn’t take long for you to fall sound asleep in Jimin’s arms.

[9:24am from Chungha] BITCH! I heard rumors you slept with THE Park Jimin?! A different rumor said you slept with Jeon Jungkook??? Explain please???

[10:19am] What if I slept with both?

[10:20am from Chungha] NO WAY! Tell me all about it asap

“You good?” Jimin nuzzled your neck.

“Never better,” you smiled.

388 notes · View notes

glimmerofgold · 3 years ago

Text

Melodies of Hope and Grief

@patrochillesweek 2021 - Day 1: Music

When I first heard him play the song we were thirteen and it was winter. Mount Pelion, covered in a thick white blanket, was eerily silent. It was rare now to hear the birds singing - even they appeared to have hidden away from the frost. We were much the same, having retreated to the far back of the cave, wrapped up in a pile of furs.

When the first snowflakes had tumbled from the sky not long ago we had been giddy, excited. We had chased each other across the meadows, had watched the river slowly freeze over. The bitter cold had not bothered us in the least - until one morning I had woken up with my voice gone and my head feeling light.

Chiron, with a stern look on his wise face, had ordered me to stay inside and keep warm and though the same instructions hadn't been given to Achilles, he had not left my side once. Instead he had listened attentively as our mentor had spoken of the healing qualities of honey, had eagerly helped him prepare a mixture out of herbs for me to drink.

At night we curled up close on our pallet, each other's bodies the only source of heat available. I grew familiar to the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, of his warm breath against my skin, of his curls tickling my nose. How much of it was intentional, I did not know, but every night without fail I found myself in the same position, the steady rise and fall of Achilles' chest lulling me to sleep.

After a week spent inside, I expected him to become restless. He was not used to sitting still, was eager at best and impatient at worst, and yet he made no move to leave the cave - or me. With nothing else left to do, he had taken up playing the lyre again, and that was how the song had come to be. I had never heard him play it before, the melody entirely new to me. The sweet sounds that his fingers plucked from the strings resounded from the walls, the music surrounding us fully. His eyes were closed as he played, a small smile lingering on his lips.

It was a happy song, quick as flowing water, and I found myself getting lost in it until it ended, rather abruptly, and Achilles looked at me with an expression so thoughtful that it made me laugh. "Why did you stop?" I asked him, earning myself a shrug as an answer. "It's not finished," he replied, but the very next day he played it again for me.

As we changed, the song changed with us. It grew longer, more wistful, a reminder of the childhood we had left behind. He played it for me as we sat on the cliffs of Skyros, gazing out at the ships passing by on the sea below. It spilled from his lyre as we set sail for Troy, the quick, bright melody taking on a slower, more heavy quality. "What's it about?" I wanted to know, but the only reply I received was another shrug before he started anew.

He never told me. Night after night the music filled our tent, no matter how tired he was, no matter the energy battle had cost him. He only ever played it for me, our eyes locking as his deft fingers tickled the strings. The song still had no ending - the lyre usually abandoned in the corner as we fell into each other, not driven by the cold this time but by our longing.

At night, I felt his arms around me, felt his breath against my shoulder and his heartbeat against my ribs, and I was thirteen again, young and carefree. In the mornings, we strapped on our armor and turned back into the soldiers we had become.

The last time he played the song for me, tears were cascading down his cheeks. I watched as they fell from his eyes like rain, as they covered the lifeless body resting across his lap. The once lively melody would have been barely recognizable, had it not been so familiar to me. What had been a cheerful, then thoughtful tune had turned into a lament, our pain incarnate.

This time, it did have an ending. As Achilles laid down the instrument and leant in to leave a kiss against my cold brow, I heard him whisper, finally, the answer to all my questions.

"You," he breathed. "It is about you, my love."

[Find me on ao3]

#PatrochillesWeek #PatrochillesWeek2021 #patrochilles #Patroclus #Achilles #tsoa #hades game #hades #iliad #Greek mythology #fanfiction #writing #my writing #glimmerofgold #melodies of hope and grief

51 notes · View notes

devilfic · 4 years ago

Text

❝sunshine❞

plot: you’ve been worrying about something. albedo can’t work unless you tell him. pairing: albedo x gn!traveler!reader. cw: fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic if you squint, emotional hurt/comfort. words: 1.2k.

a/n: I’m having a bad self-esteem day so I wrote this in a little under an hour to get my mind off things.

“Is something the matter?” Albedo doesn’t even look up over his work at you, “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

For a man so often too enthralled in his own work to even remember to eat, you’re rightfully shocked at his perceptive skills despite how hard you’d tried to appear casual.

Paimon rests on your lap in a deep slumber. The wind howls outside the cave the alchemist had set aside for research, warning that a storm was on the horizon, and you’d accepted that you’d be stuck here a while with “taking a walk” scratched off your list of possible excuses. You supposed you could lie to him, but he’d know the truth. All that’d do is irritate him so much he couldn’t work, and then he’d probably send you off to fight slimes again in retaliation. The very thought is somehow more unpleasant than the matters of your busy mind, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing to do with the sword.”

“Well, that is a relief.” He murmurs, and you think that is that of the conversation. You wait for the tell-tale sound of his tinkering to start up again so you can stare into the unending white, consumed by your follies... but it does not come. You have a bad feeling about that. “If the sword is not the cause of your troubles, I might be of some actual help. So, what’s bothering you?”

His concern gives you pause. While you’ve only known Albedo for a short time, you’d come to know him as a simple stoic. You liked that he didn’t concern himself with trivial things. The braid in his hair was the most intricate thing about his person, for everything else complicated was left solely to his work. When anyone brought any fickle matters to his attention, you had since grown accustomed to picking out the exact moment when he’d turn his brain off and retreat into his work once more. It was rather funny.

Now, you’d only wished he’d do it with you.

“I thought you were working on something?” You inquire, feigning interest as you point at his crafting table. There lies an array of ingredients you had no earthly clue about.

Albedo almost – almost – falls for it. His eyes narrow over his work, “I can’t possibly work with your dark cloud fogging up the room.”

You scoff on instinct, but a laugh follows right after. You swear you see his mouth quirk up a bit. The actual concern in question is rather vague, and so you wonder, if you’ll actually tell him, how. Your mind is already much like the storm raging outside. To construct a coherent thought would be like stringing a needle and thread through each individual snowflake to make a garland.

“I suppose... you’re aware of how insignificant we all are,” you start, unsure where you’ll end up, “how we are made up of very basic properties. I met a person recently who used to be very important in this world, someone who many people looked up to, and now... he chooses to live a life of solitude where no one knows his name. I thought it sort of strange. Giving up a life where you’re known and loved in exchange for simplicity. Not that there’s anything wrong with simplicity, but-”

“-you’re curious as to why.” Albedo finishes for you, no intention of being rude.

You nod solemnly. “I was once very overwhelmed by this world, which sounds silly given that I’ve travelled here from another, and each day it grows stranger and stranger. I realize there are so many people I’ve met so far, but so many I won’t meet. All the lives I won’t know. All the lives I will eventually leave behind. Once I find my twin, I will go home. And... will people remember me? Will I matter? In a few months time, will my name be stricken from memory, replaced by the next biggest thing?”

Despite your earlier confusion on how to word your worries, it seemed the very things spilled from your lips like water. It must have been weighing rather heavy on you to come out so easily.

The alchemist hums with thought, one arm propped under his chest while the other’s elbow rests on its wrist, allowing his chin to sit on his fist comfortably in thought. He doesn’t look at you, rather past you, and for a moment you wish to apologize for distracting him from his work so much. “If you’re so worried about being remembered, I suppose you could request that bard to write you a ballad.”

The thought of Venti writing a song about you almost makes you laugh, “He’d jump at the chance, but no.”

“If it helps any, I’m certain your influence on the people of Mondstadt- no, the people of Teyvat, is far too strong to simply be ‘stricken from memory’. Why, I’d worry greatly for future generations if they were to be so dull.” Albedo’s lips purse as he speaks, “And if I’m around for any longer, I’d certainly not let your name turn to dust. You’ve helped me so far, given so much of yourself, and proven that you are no ordinary being. Even the Archons themselves would be lucky to have you among their ranks with how much you’ve done for their peoples.”

Albedo’s honesty shocks you. While many had sung your praises before, you’d never heard the alchemist utter much more than vague, interested phrases at you from time to time. There were some moments where he leaned into more grateful monologues, but ever the minimalist, he kept them short and to the point.

“And even if said peoples were to forget you, I never would,” you almost don’t hear him over the howling winds outside, but you do, “you’re far too important to forget. I’d really hope you wouldn’t worry yourself over things like that... at least while I’m working.”

You’re speechless, the way Albedo stares at you from across the cave. Even taking a moment to swallow would feel far too intimate, too vulnerable, when he’s looking at you. Despite the apparent carelessness of his last line, you are certain that the sentiment he puts forth is genuine. He wouldn’t bother to fluff you up with niceties. He had far more important things to do than to engage in such frivoloty, so that could only mean...“Thank you, Albedo. Really."

He stares at you for just a few blinks too long before nodding and going back to his work. Bottles clink and parchment is written upon, lulling you into a sense of ease once more.

Your shoulders feel a bit lighter than before. You hadn’t expected Albedo to be a particularly good ear to vent to, and even more so, you hadn’t expected him to care so much. What was only a few moments of his time meant far more to you than he could imagine. A peaceful sigh leaves your lips as you shut your eyes to the storm, smiling and letting yourself meditate on better thoughts. You could do that much. At least while he was working, you told yourself.

Albedo’s voice chimes in a few moments later, uncharacteristically playful, “Would you look at that? The sun shines once again.”

#albedo x reader #albedo scenarios #albedo one shot #albedo fluff #albedo #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact one shot #genshin impact fluff #mjwrites

268 notes · View notes

awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

Text

Batfam Alphabet: Q - Quitting

Summary: Believing it’s for the best, Tim quits being Robin but doesn’t explain why. Being concerned for him, Dick seeks Tim out and gets him to open up about his decision.

A/N: This is an AU Canon Divergence story on Tim quitting being Robin in the comics.

Enjoy! :D

Recoiling at the hand stretching out towards him, Tim shakes his head and steps back, recreating the space between them. He didn’t want to be touched, he didn’t deserve the gentle and reassuring touch that that hand would provide. Not after the bombshell he’s just dropped on him out of the blue.

“Tim?”

Tim shakes his head again, his eyes down cast so he doesn’t have to look at the judging gaze the man is no doubt sending him.

“No,” he bites out, his voice far shakier than he intended it to be, “no don’t. It’s better this way for everyone. I know you’re secretly happy I’ve finally come to this decision, or perhaps it’s because it is my decision rather than you kicking me out, it certainly makes it easier on your part to deal with.”

Tim hears Bruce start to protest against his words. If Tim was truly listening and not caught up inside his own mind about the situation he’s put himself in, he would hear how genuinely concerned the man is about him. “Tim, son, you can’t possibly think that-”

Gritting his teeth Tim cuts Bruce off before he could finish. “I know this decision seems like it’s out the blue but it’s not. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I believe this is the best outcome for everyone involved. For myself, for my dad, for you, Dick and the others, for my team… just everyone.”

As he speaks Tim could feel the burning of tears in his eyes, there’s a sob stuck in his throat threatening to break out and his heart weighs heavily inside his chest. Tim pushes all of these sensations down and away, it would be no good if he were to breakdown now because it wouldn’t achieve anything. He takes a deep breath to try and steady himself and then takes another just to be sure he’s composed enough to finish business here.

He keeps his eyes on the ground and starts to slowly retreat backwards with the intention of heading to the stairs that leads up to the Manor. “Just give me an hour to pack my belongings and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Tim doesn’t wait for a response as he quickly turns around and darts for the cave’s exit. He hears name being called but he ignores it, he doesn’t want to hear what he has to say, he wouldn’t be able to stand actually hearing how happy he is to hear him leaving the mantle of Robin.

As he rushes up the stairs there’s the vague thought of this would be the last time he’d ever see the Batcave.

When he gets to his room Tim dives inside and slams the door shut behind him. He slumps heavily against the wood and the sob that’s been impending for the last hour finally breaks free. He rests his forehead against the cool wood as he breaks down, gut-wrenching sobs rip out from his throat, wet ugly sounds pair with them, tears begin streaming down his face and this time Tim doesn’t stop them. It’s messy and it’s horrible. The fact that he’s having a breakdown, that he’s feeling so weak because of his own emotions from something he’s chosen to do, makes him cry even harder.

How pathetic.

Without realising it, Tim had at some point turned around so his back is leaning against the door and at another point he’s slid down to the floor. He’s still crying but now with his knees tucked up closely to his chest with his head resting on them.

Tim loses all track of time. It could have been hours or a bare ten minutes until he finds himself calming down enough to regulate his breathing. His face feels hot, his throat is sore from the sobbing and his head is hurting from all of the crying.

Taking a deep breath Tim wipes his face and unsteadily climbs to his feet, having to use the door for support. Once he's up right he moves further into his – wait no, it’s no longer his room, Tim moves further into the room, after all he still has to pack everything up, that pathetic breakdown he had has only delayed everything.

A gentle tapping sound gets his attention when he’s moved no more than a couple steps away from the door. Frowning, Tim looks behind him wondering if he heard right as it may have been his wrecked mind imagining things. When a second knocking sound comes along with a voice Tim knows he wasn’t imaging things.

“Timmy?”

Without any warning the door slowly begins to open and Tim is hit with a wave of panic. Not giving It a thought, Tim lunges forward slamming his hands and body against the wood and effectively slams the door shut with a loud bang. As soon as the door shuts Tim locks it to stop any more attempts at opening it from happening. Clearly not having expected such reaction the person on the other side yelps loudly and curses.

Tim doesn’t have the mental capacity to feel bad because he's too busy controlling his breathing to prevent a panic attack from happening. It takes a couple cycles of in through the nose and out through the mouth until he’s calmed down once again to focus on what is happening at the moment.

He’s currently leaning against the door, his back pressed right up against the wood and he could someone on the other side speaking to him clearly wanting to get his attention.

“Timmy, can you open up bud?” They ask and it finally clicks that it’s Dick. “Tim I don’t want to have this conversation through the door, please let me in kiddo.”

Tim sighs and runs a hand down his face. He really doesn’t want to see Dick right now, at least not while he’s in this state. Facing Bruce was hard enough when telling the man about his decision, god knows how hard it’s going to be to face Dick and explain his decision to him.

A knock happens on the door and Tim could feel it vibrate through his body.

“Tim c’mon. I heard what happened, I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Tim wonders why Dick is bothering with him, after all if he knows what happened then the man should be happy and should currently be discussing things with Bruce about getting a new Robin or seeing how a new dynamic could work between them without Tim in the middle of it.

The handle wiggles next to him from where Dick is trying to open the door with no success.

“Go away Dick.” Tim says eventually, his voice is rough but his words are sharp. The handle stops wiggling immediately. “I’m fine and there’s nothing to talk about. I’m going to pack my things and I’ll be gone within the hour.”

“This behaviour is telling me you are anything but fine Tim. Let me in and we can talk because there is a conversation to be had about this.” Dick’s voice sounds firmer than before and Tim recognises it as his ‘no bullshit’ tone.

Despite Dick not being able to see it, Tim shakes his head. “No. Now please stop making this harder than what it already is.” His voice cracks slightly at the end of the sentence and Tim doesn’t know how much more of this he can deal with.

Originally he figured they would be joyed at hearing that he was quitting and assumed they would let him get on with what he needed to in order to get out of their hair quicker. He had been thrown when Bruce tried to voice against his words and now there's Dick who’s followed him to his – the – bedroom wanting to talk about it.

“Make this harder – what? Tim what are you on about?” Dick sounds genuinely confused by Tim’s words, like he couldn’t understand what he meant by them.

After that there’s a long silent pause from where Tim doesn’t respond to his question. However Dick doesn’t seem to need an answer because in the next moment Tim could hear him sigh loudly and muttering underneath his breath.

“Fine I wanted to do it the easy way but you’ve left me no choice…”

Tim frowns into the room, not quite understanding what Dick meant, that is at least until the handle starts wiggling once again and a few clicks of the lock being worked could be heard. Dick’s lock picking the lock! With his eyes going wide Tim braces himself against the door, when it eventually unlocks he could immediately feel Dick pushing the door against his weight.

Despite his training and all of the strength he’s acquired over it, Tim still isn’t as big or strong as the older man. His feet lose grip on the floor and slowly Dick gets the upper hand, he pushes the door open and Tim along with it, his socked sliding uselessly against the carpet as he struggles to keep the door shut.

In the end Tim’s forced to move away from the door altogether unless he wanted to be flattened between the wood and the wall. He tumbles forward and darts to the other side of the room to create space between them as Dick staggers in from the sudden loss of resistance.

A moment passes as they stare at one another from across the room. Tim doesn’t know what to say or even what to think. Out of the pair Dick is the first to move, he shuts the door behind him and takes a couple tentative steps towards Tim before stopping in the middle of the room. The man, who’s like a brother to him, stares at him with concern.

“Tim,” he starts gently, “What’s going on? Bruce told me what happened down in the cave and it just doesn’t make sense.”

There’s a storm of emotions inside of Tim right now and he has no idea on what feeling to focus on. A part of him wants to breakdown and cry again, he wants to give in and seek that comfort and safety a scared child would of a family member. He’s feeling confused because why won’t Dick just let it go? Surely he would be feeling ecstatic that Tim is leaving the role of Robin. He wants to be angry, he’s feeling anger towards Dick and Bruce but at the whole situation too, it’s not fair.

Overall he feels lost. Tim doesn’t know which way to turn and what to look for in any direction. The decision he’s made is one of his own choosing but he has to do it for reasons that go behind what he wants for himself.

Taking a deep breath Tim attempts to steady himself. He refuses to meet Dick’s gaze and keeps his eyes lowered to the bed in the middle of the room between them.

“If Bruce told you,” Tim says evenly, “then you don’t need me to explain.” He honestly doesn’t want to have this conversation again. Having it with Bruce was hard enough, having it with Dick would be on a whole new level of painful.

Dick shakes his head in both refusal and disbelief. “No. Bruce told me his side of the story, I want to hear yours.”

Through the sensation of feeling lost, Tim could feel the anger rising. He finally looks up at Dick and scowls. “But why? I quit Robin! That’s all there is too it. Why do you need more, why are you insisting on making this harder than it needs to be?” He doesn’t get why Dick is questioning his decision so much.

Dick appears to be stricken. “What? Tim please, you love being Robin. This has come out of nowhere and we just want to know what has happened for you to come to this decision.”

“Nothing has happened!” Tim exclaims. He hates every moment of this, despising the fact he's now lying out of his ass. “As I told Bruce, this has been on my mind and I believe quitting Robin is the best thing for everyone.”

Dick shakes his head again and Tim hears him let out a long breath as if dealing with him right now is a physically trying task. “Something’s happened for you to make this decision. What aren’t you telling us Tim? You can talk to us, you know this. Has someone said something to you, one of the League members or perhaps someone from your team? Is everything okay at home, has your dad said something?”

Tim tried his best to not react when Dick mentioned his father, unfortunately he hadn’t done as well as he thought because the man homes in on it immediately. He sends Tim a sharp look. “You’re quitting because of your father?”

Tim could feel tears threatening to fall from his eyes as Dick finally gets to the reason behind all of this. A sob gets lodged inside his throat and Tim does his best to push it away, he’s surprised he's even got any more tears to shred considering how much he’s cried already that day.

Closing his eyes Tim shakily nods, finally telling truth for the first time. “Yeah,” he whispers in answer, “I’m quitting because of my dad.” Feeling drained of energy Tim moves to the bed and sinks down onto the edge of it, he buries his face in his hands and breathes deeply.

Tim jumps when he feels a hand land on his knee. It stays there and gives him a reassuring squeeze. As much as Tim feels like he should recoil away from it because he doesn’t deserve the comfort being provided to him, he allows the hand to stay there and soaks in the warmth it gives. He glances between his fingers and spots Dick crouched down low in front of him.

“What happened Tim?” Dick pries gently.

Finding it useless to keep the story to himself Tim tells him everything. He honestly should have known Dick or Bruce would get the full story eventually, after all both of them are detectives it was bound to be revealed sooner or later. He’s just surprised they cared enough to want to know the story.

“My father noticed my rather odd routine. He must have had enough of it because he went through all of my things, figuring I was keeping a secret and upon his snooping he found the spare Robin costume I keep hidden at the back of my closet. He wasn’t happy of course. He connected all of the pieces and threatened to out everyone’s ID’s if I didn’t quit. I couldn’t let that happen so a decision was made and here we are.”

Dick stays silent for a long time after Tim's told the short version of his story. The older man is likely thinking everything over. Eventually he reaches up grasps Tim's hands in his own and holds them, he forces Tim to look at him. “Timmy, why do you keep saying this decision is the best for everyone?”

Tim blinks at Dick, yet again confused on why Dick cares about that. Out of everything he’s just confessed that’s what he focuses on? “Because it is.” Tim states simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing. “It’ll be better without me in the picture, none of you wanted me here in the first place so now you’re finally getting your wish for me to be gone.”

Dick’s eyes widen at his words and Tim holds his breath, unsure on what Dick’s actions were going to be. The only thing the man does is grit his teeth, looks away before letting out a long breath before he’s looking at Tim again with a determined expression. He grips Tim’s hands tightly.

“Tim I’m not going to lie to you but at first yes we were against the idea of you being Robin but believe me when I say that’s not the case anymore. You do a fantastic job as Robin and you are excelling at it. We love you both in and out of the costume.”

Tim could feel his heart pounding inside of his chest as he hears Dick’s words. They couldn’t be true could they?

“You are family Tim. Please believe me when I say that. Despite what your dad says we do want you here. You say we’re better off without you but that's not true, did you even listen to Bruce when he tried to tell you otherwise, have you heard Alfred’s opinion yet, or what about your team? I know for a fact they will miss you, you had a rocky start with them but now they wouldn’t function well without you.”

Swallowing a lump that’s formed in his throat Tim looks down at their joined hands and thinks over his words, unsure on what to make of them. He feels so confused with everything. Of course he doesn’t want to give Robin up, that’s his dads demand, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can live these two separate lives.

His dad had never really been there for him, unlike where the Wayne’s have been recently, so having his dad suddenly care and demand these changes of him is confusing. Apart of him feels like his dad shouldn’t have a say in what he does but at the end of the day he is his dad, so what can Tim do about it.

Tim looks up at Dick, his vision almost blurry from the tears that’s built up in his eyes. He shakes his head and grips Dick’s hands, seeking out that comfort he still doesn’t feel like he deserves. “I don’t know what to do Dick! Everything is so complicated right now.”

“Hey,” Dick says calmly, he lets go of Tim’s hands in order to reach up and cup his cheeks. “It’s okay, everything will be fine, as long as you talk to us Tim. Let us help you. From this I’m sure we can come up with something close to a compromise that’ll please your dad and keep you in the loop. If you truly want to quit, then we’ll discuss that too.”

Tim nods, not trusting his voice to work. If he tries to speak he’ll probably just end up crying again. Dick seems to know what he’s thinking because the man offers a reassuring smile, he pats Tim’s cheeks before letting him go and standing up.

“Now come on, why don’t we take a break from this and discuss it later. Lets go and watch a movie and binge on junk food?”

For the first time that day Tim cracks a smile, it’s small and uncertain but it’s a smile nonetheless. He nods at Dick’s suggestion and follows his lead as they head to the media room of the Manor. A break from it all is what he needs and then he can think about it more rationally with a clearer head later on.

#batfam alphabet #Tim Drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #emotional hurt and comfort #angst #bit of fluff #breakdowns #crying #big brother dick #feelings #confusion #robin #Tim quits being Robin #Or does he...?#open ending #kinda #sibling relationship #fanfiction

9 notes · View notes

theboredwritertm · 4 years ago

Note

"Oh, darling, everybody sees how you look at him" fic request with Din/reader! (Please and thank you :3)

Everyone Knows

A/N: Another request done and dusted. I’ve been getting some new prompt lists ready for when I open requests back up again (not sure what tumblr etiquette is for compiling a masterlist using other people’s prompt-lists, but I’m considering doing something like that), but I still have about 4 or 5 fics to finish off before then!

Rating: PG?

Pairing: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, a bit of alcohol, that’s about it.

Word Count: 4500 (Me, failing to keep a story under 2k words? It’s more likely than you think)

Summary: After taking on the krayt dragon together, you’re forced to confront your feelings for Din (with a little help from everyone’s favorite marshal).

***

The monster was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

There’d been times aboard the Crest, when there were still thousands of miles to go between stops, that you’d sit by Din, giving him your rapt attention as he’d recount one of his many stories about a particularly terrifying beast he’d encountered. Not that he would ever call them terrifying – the man had a will of steel when it came to facing these kinds of things. And on this occasion, in the middle of the Tatooine desert, things would prove no different.

Only this time he had you.

You were still coming into your abilities, not really sure what they meant or the true extent of what you were capable of, and amazingly enough you found you were learning a lot from watching the Child. For instance, before he came along, you had never known you could heal people. A simple experiment with Din had proven this to be true enough – the man was prone to injury in his line of work – and though it had taken a lot of concentration, enough that you were sweating by the end, it got you wondering just what other miracles your hands could perform.

Now, standing beside Din and the man who had introduced himself to you both as Cobb Vanth, you stared down into the dragon’s lair and found yourself hoping those powers might come in handy.

“So, how’re we drawin’ this thing out?” Cobb asks.

You glance back at the dozens of townsfolk and Tuskens around you, sensing their uneasiness as they shuffle from foot to foot and cast occasional apprehensive glances in the direction of the danger and you’re surprised to see a couple of the Raiders step forward. Considering how well their peoples’ last attempt to draw out the beast had gone, you hadn’t expected any of them to be so willing to approach the pit again.

Cobb glances over at them and cocks his head in immediate acceptance. Given his past troubles with their people, he can’t say he’s overly concerned over the prospect of losing a few more of them.

But you’ve never been one to stand by and watch people get hurt.

“No, wait.” The words leave your mouth automatically. Up until this point, you’d been feeling completely useless. Din had been keeping an even closer watch on you than usual since a stunt you had pulled back on Nevarro; one that had involved your unpredictable powers and the dozens of stormtroopers who’d had him cornered. Though he had come out of the situation a lot worse for wear than you had, he’d been hovering over you, keeping you a safe distance from any action ever since. You were starting to get sick of being kept on the sidelines. “I can do it,” you say.

The Tuskens turn to look back at you, not able to understand what you’ve said, but sensing a potential change of plans, then their attention is drawn to the Mandalorian beside you as he quickly dashes their hopes.

“No,” comes Din’s clear, expected response.

You turn to him. “I can handle this.”

“No. You’re staying where you are.”

You gaze at him for just a moment, anger starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach, before turning around and striding down the tall dune, towards the gaping mouth of the empty saarlac pit. You know better than to argue – you don’t have the time right now, but every time you did, he managed to use it as a way to distract you. You wouldn’t give him that opportunity now. You’d already made up your mind.

You feel the air stir as his hand shoots out to grab you, but you’re too quick; one of the things that’s managed to keep you alive this long, but now maybe the very thing that’s going to get you killed.

“Dank Farrik!”

Cobb glances between the man beside him and your retreating form, attempting to hold back a smirk. In the short couple of days that he’s known you both, he’s already witnessed at least three separate arguments, none of which seemed to get either of you anywhere. He didn’t see this one going the big guy’s way, either.

The modulator seems to amplify the frustration in Din’s voice, but you ignore it. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself, as you had proven to him numerous times now, and whatever problem he had with that was his own – you weren’t about to let his fears hold you back. Yet, as you draw closer to the yawning darkness, your heart begins to thud in your chest. For the first time, you feel the enormity of this creature, and you’ve never felt so small in your life.

You sense him approach before you hear him. That was one advantage you’d always had over Din; he could never sneak up on you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m tired of watching everyone else do everything,” you say, finally coming to a stop, your gaze still trained forward, “I want to play my part. I need to play my part.”

“No, you need to stay safe.” His words sound threatening despite their context, but you ignore him once more. This time he does grab you, catching you around the forearm as you raise your hands in the direction of the cave. “Stop!”You’re tempted to use your powers to throw him off, but you can feel how much he means it and you’re struck with a sudden guilt. He cares. That’s all there is to it.

“Please, let me do this.” You stare up into his helmet and feel him gazing back, considering things. His fingers loosen from your wrist.

“Fine. But I’m staying with you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you reply, not bothering to hide your bitterness at the constant babysitting – though, if you’re being honest, you do feel better with him by your side.

You raise your hands again and close your eyes, focusing on the low hum of energy around you. You don’t feel it at first, but then its as if you’ve suddenly locked onto a connection – plugged yourself into an electric charge – and everything suddenly feels heightened. Everything feels more. You draw on from that, concentrating on the pit of darkness before you, then you push forward with your mind, reaching out. In the darkness, something stirs.

“What is it?” Din asks, as if he’s sensed the sudden change.

“I feel it,” you reply, eyes still closed, your brow now marked with a frown.

He stares down at you and you finally open your eyes to meet his gaze (as much as you can through the helmet) but before either of you can say anything, a low rumbling begins to emit from the ground.

It had worked.

And it was heading right for you.

You’ll admit that, as much you’d wanted to play your part in this, you hadn’t really considered what came next once you did manage to draw the thing out. So now, as you watch the sand shift and begin to rise a hundred or so feet in front of you, you find yourself rooted to the spot.

It’s Din who moves first.

Your hands had come up again, all you can think to do to hold the beast off, then suddenly a strong arm is wrapping around your waist and you’re being propelled into the air. You glance down just in time to see the enormous mouth erupt from the ground where you had just been standing.

This time, you don’t argue. You clutch onto him, air whipping through your hair, thankful that he’s just as stubborn as you are.

When you finally land, he sets you on your feet and quickly glances down to make sure you’re alright. You give him a quick nod, sensing the question in his gaze, and then he takes off again to rejoin the action. It takes you a moment to regain your balance, and you still feel the ghost of his arm around your waist, but when you glance back you find that he’s set you down by the landspeeder, with the Child. He’s put you back at the kids’ table.

You give a frustrated growl and the baby blinks curiously at you, eyes full of wonder. He’s just happy to be here, close to someone he likes. You offer a reassuring stroke over his little head, then turn to stalk back down the dunes; back towards the rest of the group whose lives apparently don’t mean as much to Din, since he’s more them happy for them to join in despite them having little-to-no fighting experience. You’re not about to sit back and watch them all die.

As the dragon bursts out of the sand once more, the Tuskens and townsfolk begin firing harpoons into its side – a desperate attempt to keep it in place – and you watch as it wrenches itself free with a simple shake of its body. There’s no way this plan is going to work.

When you arrive back by Din’s side, he simply looks at you, not even bothering to admonish you, knowing it’s not going to get him anywhere at this point anyway. But as you look at him, a silent warning to not push you aside again, he sees you’ve got that same look in your eyes now as you had back on Nevarro. And it worries him.

You move off together as a unit as the dragon begins its assault, firing with everything you’ve got to get its attention – in your case, your trusty blaster pistol – stopping only when it opens its jaws wide and proceeds to spit boiling acid down onto anyone within its reach. You watch in horror as people are disintegrated before your eyes.

A massive explosion beneath it distracts it long enough for any survivors to get clear of its path, and the creature suddenly dives.

You wait, watching for any sign that it’s coming back up, but the smoking landscape is silent and still. Yet, something doesn’t feel right.

“I don’t think it’s dead,” Cobb says, voicing your concern, and you exchange worried glances.

“Me neither,” Din replies. His grip tightens on his blaster, waiting.

Then suddenly, up on the mountain, the creature bursts forth once more. It opens its mouth wide and you glance down at the people in its path about to be annihilated. You can’t watch this happen again. Moving as fast as your feet can carry you, you rush down towards them, shoving them aside with a powerful force-push seconds before the acid hits the sand, clearing them of its path just in time – leaving you in a tricky predicament. You’ve caught its attention now – and you have nowhere to go.

You catch the sound of jetpacks as Cobb and Din land either side of you, weapons raised and ready to come to your defense.

“Get back!” Din barks at you, and you find you have no choice but to listen to him. Failing to do so now, even just to prove a point, and you’re certain you’d be the dragon’s next meal. You’d pick your hill to die on one day, but this just wasn’t it.

Din and Cobb take off into the air again, firing their weapons to draw the dragon’s attention away and give you time to escape. It works. The dragon, furious from the sudden new assault, turns and comes after them, spraying up sand as it whips its massive body in the new direction.

As you watch them draw it further away, you can’t help but wonder what the plan is, since the original one has long fallen apart. They can’t keep drawing it away forever. Now that you have minute to breath, you look around for a way to help, and spot the explosives-laden bantha that had been led down as bait. It looks like it would rather be anywhere else and, hell, you don’t blame it, but glancing between it and the massive monster that currently has its sights set on the one man who never failed to put himself in the path of danger for you, you think maybe it was time to return the favor and finish this once and for all.

So, you grab the bellowing, hairy animal by its halter and do something stupid.

You start yelling. And waving your arms. And when that fails to grab the dragon’s attention, you start firing your weapon. Taking your odd behavior as some kind of cue, the townsfolk closest to you begin firing, too, and finally the dragon turns to face this latest assault, drawn to the movement of your waving arms and the scent wafting from the bantha.

You spot the two armored men, now free of the dragon’s attention, flying up from the mountain before one in particular makes a sudden beeline in your direction. You can practically feel Din’s wrath radiating off of him before he even gets close, and it’s like the bantha can, too, as it begins to protest and pull against its rope. Or maybe it’s the giant monster coming to swallow it whole that has it so skittish. Either way, you feel like an ass as you try to calm it down, knowing the only reason you’re doing so is to keep it in place long enough to be eaten.

You’re grateful to have the marshal land behind you first as Din drops down in front, poised to lose his absolute mind at you for your reckless behavior, but finding the situation momentarily put on-hold as Cobb asks to no one in particular, “Now what?”

Din’s staring at you, gaze heavy, burning, and humiliating all in one, but he doesn’t have time to berate you as the dragon breaks from a nearby dune. “I have an idea,” he says, and before either you or Cobb can ask what that is, he shoves you into the marshal’s arms and sets off the man’s jetpack, sending you both careening up and away from the dragon’s path – and leaving him right in the middle of it.

You had come to suspect that you were in pretty deep with Din Djarin, ever since he had first rescued you many years ago, but watching him disappear into the enormous jaws of the krayt dragon was a lesson you had never asked for in how you really felt about him. Even as everyone around you falls into a stunned silence, your ears begin to buzz and you have to fight to keep your footing, absently leaning against Cobb for support as the energy drains from your legs. Cobb reaches for you but misses as you collapse down onto the sand by his feet. Your throat starts to tighten. Everything feels hazy.

This can’t be it. This can’t be the way it happens.

Then the beast erupts from the sand once more and you spot a familiar shape fly out of its roaring mouth.

Your heart leaps into your throat. Suddenly, you can breathe again. Then you’re back on your feet and racing towards him.

The huge blast that follows knocks you back and you hold an arm across your eyes to protect them from the cloud of sand billowing from the site of the explosion, but even that’s not enough to stop you as you keep your sights trained on the metal armor glistening in the hot sun.

When you finally reach Din, you stand for a moment looking at him, then a sound escapes you halfway between a sob and shout, and you shove him – hard. He stumbles backwards but remains on his feet.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. Fury radiates from every cell in your body, and still Din just stares at you. Then you hug him. Neither of you are expecting it, and his body stiffens immediately in surprise, but when you feel him relax and one of his arms comes up to wrap around you in return, everything suddenly feels right again. You couldn’t care less that he’s covered in gross dragon goo and that it’s probably getting all over your clothes, or that there’s a crowd of onlookers witnessing this moment between you – all you care about is the fact that he’s here, that he’s still alive.

A cheer erupts behind you as you part, and it’s not for you and Din, but for the smoking remains of the dragon nearby, and it’s soon joined by the howls of the Tuskens as they raise their weapons in victory.

It’s over. It’s done. And as you look up at Din, you can think of many things worth celebrating.

***

And celebrate, you do.

As much as he had wanted to make a quiet exit once he had collected his promised armor from Cobb, you had managed to convince Din to stay in Mos Pelgo just a little longer for the revelries. It had been a long time since you’d stayed anywhere close to civilization, let alone had a good reason to celebrate; and though you’d grown used to the comfortable silence of the Razor Crest, there’s some comfort in being surrounded by happy, chattering people for once, instead of the lonely vacuum of space.

Cobb had asked you back personally for a couple of drinks at the bar, and though the invitation had been extended to both of you, Din had failed to take it that way. In hindsight, you suppose your initial run-in with Cobb is to blame for this sudden standoffish behavior, since your contribution to convincing the man to hand over the beskar had involved you telling him that the helmet was ‘a waste on a face like his’. You guess that comment hadn’t sat too well with Din, but it had just sort of slipped out. What could you say? The guy was a looker. Yet even now, as Cobb glances over at your table from the bar, offering a warm, friendly smile in your direction, you find yourself distracted.

You look around and finally spot Din. He’d been radiating quiet irritation since arriving back, and stands now in the furthest corner of the room, watching the festivities with what you imagined was a sulky expression beneath the helmet. The Child sits by his feet, on the sandy floor, playing with something round and shiny, completely absorbed in his own little world.

“I take it Mandalorian’s aren’t much for parties,” Cobb comments as he finally reaches your side with drinks, breaking you from you trance. He sits down beside you and slides one of the glasses of bright-blue liquid your way.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He nods over towards Din whose gaze is currently burning into you, and you shift uncomfortably trying to find somewhere else to direct your attention, unsure why you don’t just look at Cobb. You realize why when your eyes shift back to him and the feeling of being watched intensifies.

“Him?” you reply, trying to sound casual, now hyperaware that Din is currently reading every detail of this interaction, “Oh, he usually just prefers the quiet, you know? Not really the social type. He’s only here because I asked.”

“Just watching over his girl, huh?” Cobb teases, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“His gir—What are talking about?”

He frowns before giving you a knowing look, then risks a quick, pointed glance towards Din, who he’s noticed hasn’t turned his gaze away from you for longer than a few seconds the entire evening.

“We’re just friends,” you tell him, even if that label doesn’t feel quite right to you. “It’s not like that.” You take a mouthful of drink just to give yourself something to do, and wince at the unexpected bitterness. When you glance back over at Din, your cheeks heat up a little when you realize he’s still looking back. You finally drop your gaze away, reassuring yourself that the weird feeling you’ve suddenly gotten in your stomach is just the alcohol taking affect, but when you look back at Cobb you catch him smirking at you.

“We’re friends,” you repeat, wondering who you’re trying to convince now, since Cobb seems pretty damn decided on the matter. “Colleagues, you know. We’ve just been through a lot together.” You frown as he chuckles. “What?”

“I did not just spend two days listening to the two of you bicker like an old married couple, to hear you say that you two are ‘just friends’.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I guess I just don’t look at him that way.”

“Oh, darlin’, everybody sees how you look at him.”

You think back to the desert, to your arms wrapping around him like he might disappear again at any moment; to the arm that had pulled you closer and squeezed you in return.

You take another gulp of spotchka to calm the fluttering feeling in your belly, and shoot a quick glance over to see if he’s still looking at you.

But he’s gone.

Panic floods over you.

You look around the room, hoping you don’t look as desperate as you suddenly feel, when Cobb nudges you. You look back at him and he nods to the door, where you just manage to catch a flash of cape and armor and Din disappears through it into the night.

Cobb smiles. “Go on. Go talk to the guy. I’ll still be here if you want another drink. If not, I hope we meet again someday.” He tips his glass towards you and you nod, managing a brief smile of appreciation as you stand.

Your legs feel heavy as you walk towards the exit. It’s dark outside – almost pitch black aside from a scattering of light coming through a few windows, and the few fires burning outside to keep people warm on the cold desert night – and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot Din still standing out on the road. It looks like the kid is giving him some trouble, his fussy cries reaching your ears easily in the quiet. He settles as soon as he sees you, though, and Din turns to see what has the ability to calm him so quickly.

Of course, it’s you, he thinks. He should have known – you have the same effect on him.

“Hey,” you greet, still fighting back these unexplained nerves as you approach him. You’d known him for years, spent a lot of time in his company, and been through a lot together, but it’s the first time you feel nervous around him.

“Hey,” he replies simply, “I was just heading to take him back to the ship.” He pauses like he’s weighing up what he wants to say next, then adds, “When should I expect you back?”

“Back?”

“I can meet you there in the morning if that’s more suitable.”

He’s acting weird, and though you know exactly why, you can’t help but frown at the bitterness in his tone. He’s trying to keep it cool and calm around the kid. You wonder what he’d be saying instead if it was just the two of you.

“Why would you do that? Why would—” You hate what he’s implying, but you need him to say it, to admit why it’s a problem for him – to know if Cobb’s right. “Where am I supposed to be in all of this?”

You stare at him, the question written on your furrowed brow, wondering if he has the guts to admit the accusation outright.

He looks back towards the bar and then back at you, cocking his helmet as if he’s expecting you to be the one to make the confession, even if there is a low rage bubbling away inside of him at the thought of it. He thinks back to the desert, to the feeling of your arms wrapped around him, to the way his own arm had come up instinctually to hold you closer, and he thinks of how much he wants that again.

“I’m coming back to the ship,” you tell him.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he replies, and you swear he says things like that just to piss you off.

Before you can formulate a response, he turns away and starts walking towards his borrowed landspeeder. The Child looks back at you over his shoulder and stretches his little arms towards you with a cry, but Din ignores it.

You almost shout his name, forgetting for a moment where you are, and instead splutter out an awkward ‘Mando!’, which you haven’t called him in over a year; not since he entrusted you with his true name. He stops and slowly turns back. By now the kid is wriggling and fussing so much in his arms that he has to put him down, and the little one immediately heads towards you, reaching up to be held. You scoop him up and Din watches as the kid coos happily and buries his face in your hair. He’d thought they were leaving without you, Din realizes, and he can’t help but wonder if the kid’s picked up on his own emotions too – at his own distress at the thought of leaving you behind.

He watches you for a moment as you soothe the Child, observing the tender way you fuss over him, and feels guilt start to creep over him.

“I am doing it on your account,” you tell him firmly, after a moment, finally looking back at him again, and his helmet tilts slightly as he stares back at you. You screw up your face like you hate the idea of having to say the next words out loud, but you do anyway for his sake. “I’m not interested in the marshal.”

He makes a non-committal noise like he either doesn’t believe you or he’s pretending it’s not a big deal, and you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the kid.

You wonder what you can say, how you’re going to make him understand what you’re feeling, because you can’t go back to the ship like this – things can’t just keep on going how they have been, with the arguments and all these unspoken words that are causing them. So, you step forward, closing the gap between the two of you as you rest a hand against his chest plate to get his attention.

Din stares down at you, heart thumping as he tries to read your expression and figure out what you’re going to say before you say it, hoping he’ll be less caught off guard this way.

You reach up to the back of his helmet, guiding him down towards you, muttering, “Come here, you idiot.” Then you press your forehead to the cold beskar of his helmet and find a way to tell him.

“Where you go, I go.”

He seems to understand that well enough.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader #fic requests #cobb vanth #din djarin #din djarin imagines

391 notes · View notes

ahkaahshi · 4 years ago

Text

exploration [sakusa kiyoomi x reader]

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, light degradation, dirty talk, mean-ish?? then nice dom sakusa, rough sex, orgasm denial, being stimulated in public, swearing

word count: 2.9k

overview: you wanna try new things. some of them work and some of them don’t, but it’s all a learning experience.

notes: yall my heart just went 🥺 soft sakusa 🥺 yet again (I'm rlly weak for him obviously I have no issue admitting it) but I wanted to give him a lil edge too ya feel? I rlly banged this out with my last two braincells so I hope you enjoy :)

As you wander around the large, open space in the elegant, modern art museum, heels clicking against the cold, concrete floor, your (e/c) eyes drift from one painting to the next. The steady, gentle rhythm of some, ethereal lounge music echoes around the room just under the hum of conversations taking place nearby. Though they’re speaking of things mostly foreign to you, since they’re members of a much higher society than that in which you live, you can’t help but find yourself somewhat entertained by the gossip you hear circulating amongst the women as they chat over a few too many cocktails.

Spending the evening perusing expensive artwork in such a luxurious venue, wearing a dress you hope looks fancy enough while you rub shoulders with the elite is definitely not a normal occasion in your day to day life. However, with your boyfriend’s constantly climbing popularity as a professional athlete, his name was starting to show up on more of the guest lists to exclusive events such as this exclusive art showcase you find yourself at now. While it’s interesting--to an extent--you do find yourself growing bored from time to time. Earlier, your beloved’s teammates had been around to entertain you, but they’d since left to help themselves to the open bar.

Not even moments after you let out a soft sigh and readjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, you feel a familiar vibration emanate from deep inside of you. The intensity and location of the sensation make one hand fly to your mouth to stifle a small squeal that escapes your throat while the other grips the chiffon of your dress’s skirt. Turning away from the few gazes that have fastened on you at your reaction to what seems like absolutely nothing, you look through the doorway into the next room to see your boyfriend watching you with rapt attention.

His hand is buried in the pocket of his sleek, black trousers, thumb resting atop the button of the remote he’s using to make the vibrator nestled inside of you jump to life. With the way he’s been using your desire to do more exploration in terms of kinks and sexual fantasies to keep you on the brink of an orgasm all night long, you’re starting to regret suggesting the idea of a bullet vibrator earlier today. By this point, your panties are uncomfortably wet and you’re on the verge of getting on your knees in front of the event’s other patrons and begging him to fuck you.

You’ve been holding yourself together the entire evening, even keeping your drink from spilling when he decided to turn it on right as the bartender handed it off to you, but you’ve had enough now. You figure you’ve been good enough for him to reward you, since you haven’t complained once or let on to the dirty game the two of you were playing to see who caved first and asked to go home. You don’t mind letting him win this round, since you know you’ll get what you want either way.

As nonchalantly as you can when your core is abuzz with stimulation and your stomach is clenching from the sensation, you make quick strides across the room to where he’s standing. He seems to sense what you’re about to ask him, so he turns off the vibrator and places his hand on the small of your back when you arrive at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” you whine softly, running your fingertips along the soft material of his crisp, button-up shirt he’s wearing beneath a suit jacket.

He raises a dark eyebrow at you and hums questioningly in response, waiting for you to admit defeat.

As much as you don’t want to say it, in this case, you’ll have to put your pride aside to get what you want. Reminding yourself that you’ll find a way to have your fun with him in return at a later point in time gives you some comfort as you move your head closer to his ear.

“Can we go home, baby?” you ask in a demure tone.

“Hmm? Why would you want to do that, (f/n)?” he wonders, his hand remaining annoyingly still where it rests against the back of your dress.

You refrain from letting out a sound of disapproval at his coy attitude, since you know anything you say can and will be held against you in the bedroom in this game you’re playing. Instead, you whisper, “So you can take this tiny, little thing out of me and stuff me with your big cock instead.”

That does it. His fingers grip your waist on their way to meet yours so he can interlace them and lead you back to the entrance of the museum. His teammates urge him to stay and have a few drinks with them, but he’s quick to wave them off and make a hasty exit.

When Bokuto tries to follow the two of you to persuade you to stay, Atsumu grabs his arm and puts his attempt to a halt by hissing, “The man's on a mission ta get fucked, dude. Let ‘im go.”

To that, the tall, white and black-haired man whistles lowly, nods, and heads back to the bar with his teammate for another shot.

You and Sakusa are quick to locate his car, and he unlocks it with a chirp so you can both slide into your respective seats. Before fastening your seatbelt, you lean over towards him to steal a few, long-awaited kisses from his lips that he returns with fervor, giving you a glimpse of the impatience that had apparently been dwelling within him all night long. When you run your hand over the bulge in his pants, though, he’s quick to retreat from your affection and stick his key in the ignition.

“Omi,” you cry softly, brows furrowing and lower lip protruding with dismay. With the way your core is on fire at the moment, you want nothing more than for him to at least give you some relief in the car. The fifteen minutes it’ll take for you to get home are going to be painstaking at this rate.

His dark eyes flick over to you, narrowed ever so slightly with irritation as he responds, “Being a brat isn’t going to get you what you want.” The two of you lock eyes for a long moment in a silent battle for dominance before you relent, sit back, and buckle in your seatbelt. “Good girl.”

Your body warms at the praise, and grows even hotter when he slides his hand over onto your thigh after reversing out of the parking spot and shifting back into drive. His focus doesn’t leave the street ahead as his fingers find the slit in your skirt and navigate the short stretch of skin between its peak and your valley. Instinctively, you grasp his wrist to guide him closer to your underwear, but he stops.

“Don’t touch me while I'm driving, princess,” is the firm command he utters that makes you release your grip, “You’ll distract me.”

Your fingers dig into the smooth, leather seats as you try your best to restrain yourself, but each stoplight you hit makes you squeeze your thighs together with impatience, trapping his hand between your supple skin. Since he can see how desperate you are, he prods at your clit through your soaked panties, eliciting a gentle moan from you. With the way you've been waiting for him to touch you all night, anything you can get from him feels amazing.

Though he’s being silent, he’s trying his best to contain himself at hearing the pretty sounds slipping out of your mouth and feeling how wet you are. He didn’t realize quite how worked up you were until now.

“Baby, I want more,” you utter after no more than just a few, short minutes of toying with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He scoffs, “I’m not giving you more. Can't have my leather seats getting ruined by you making a mess when you cum, dirty girl.”

You clench around the slim vibrator at his words and groan when he withdraws his fingers from between your legs. Thankfully, you can see your neighborhood come into view, and he's parking outside your house before you know it. Anticipation sends another painful throb through your walls as you unbuckle your seatbelt, dart out of the car, and hurry towards the front door.

Sakusa seems to be in less of a rush, though, since he takes his time opening the door, removing his shoes, and loosening the tie around his throat. Your tugging at his arm to lead him towards the bedroom only earns you a warning glance, so you wait a few, painfully long seconds for him to finish what he’s doing. Your patience is quickly rewarded, though, when he guides you into the room, yanks down the zipper on your dress, and pushes you onto the bed.

His lips crash against yours as you sling your arms over his shoulders to bring his body down towards yours. Each of his kisses are deep, passionate, and add more fuel to the fire that’s been burning between your legs. Feeling needier than ever, you hastily undo the buttons on his shirt while he unclasps your bra and rids you of your panties in a flash. He swallows the loud moan you release when his fingers slide into your weeping pussy to retrieve the vibrator that’s been lodged inside of you the entire night.

Your hips buck against his fingers as they slide out of you, removing the small device and tossing it aside, so he allows you a sliver of relief by rubbing his fingers coated in your essence against your clit. He watches your expressions of pleasure and the way your muscles twitch as you chase the high you’ve been after all night. The sight of you with your face flushed and eyelids squeezed shut as your lips part to utter more delightful sounds of pleasure makes his erection throb painfully in his pants.

“You poor thing,” he coos, removing his fingers from between your legs, “So desperate to get fucked. Take my pants off and I'll let you cum on my cock since you’ve been a good girl all night, but not until I say so.”

In your hazy state of mind, you reach for his belt, unbuckle it, and set to work undoing his pants. He slides his shirt off before discarding his trousers and littering your neck with more kisses as he slowly inches closer to you. You exhale breathily when you feel him slide the head of his dick from your clit down to your entrance, teasing you by remaining just outside.

“Kiyoomi!” you complain in a moment of sexual frustration, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

To this he responds harshly, “Quit whining like a little brat or else I'll fuck your mouth instead so I don’t have to listen to you.”

He sees a look of shock pass over your features like a dark storm cloud drifting in front of the sun, and he worries for an instant that he’s overstepped a boundary. But, to his relief, you rest your head back against the soft covers and breathe, “I'm sorry, baby.”

“That’s my good girl,” he praises in a much gentler tone and places a peck against your sternum before lifting your hips up towards his.

A drawn-out moan spills out of your mouth as he pushes his cock inside of you, giving you the sensation of being full that you’ve so desperately been craving all evening. His gaze remains on yours, and you watch the subtle crinkle of his nose and twitch of the moles above his eyebrow that always accompany a low groan of satisfaction during moments like these. After he’s bottomed out, he allows you a moment to breathe before he begins thrusting into you rather roughly.

Any words you want to say you’re unable to form as he indulges your tight pussy, spreading your legs further with his hand so he can reach deeper and deeper inside you with each snap of his hips against yours. “Well?” he goads, his hot breath fanning across your neck and ear when he moves his head there so he can latch onto your tender skin with his teeth, “Let me hear you, baby. Now.”

You mewl loudly at the sensation of him sucking on your neck in combination with his cock hitting your cervix, sending small jolts of pleasure skittering across your skin like electricity. “Faster, please!” you manage to squeak as your hands move onto his back, fingertips pressing into his muscles, which ripple with every thrust inside of you. His skin feels unbearably hot against yours, causing beads of sweat to form on your bodies.

He obliges your request and picks up his pace until all you’re able to do is let your head roll back and moan unintelligible words while he attacks the sensitive skin on your throat. Every grunt he utters sends tingles down your spine, and you can hear his breathing become more labored whenever he starts succumbing to the satisfaction he’s reaping from being sheathed in your velvety walls while they clench deliciously around him.

Following a particularly rough thrust that nearly has you seeing stars, he mentions, “You were being so expressive about your desires earlier, princess, but you can’t even speak now? Nothing shuts you up quite like having my cock deep in your pussy, huh?” You nod in agreement, since you’re not able to form any coherent words as you rock your body against his.

After a few minutes, you feel the pressure you’ve been holding in your stomach all night long threaten to loosen up, and you whimper, since you’re right on the edge of the orgasm you’ve been waiting too long to experience. Sakusa notices the anguish etched into your features when he takes a pause from decorating your neck with love bites, and rubs your clit with precise movements, targeting your most sensitive spot.

“Cum for me like the good girl you are, princess.”

His husky command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out with ecstasy as you pull him closer to you and buck your hips against him feverishly. The feeling of your pussy pulsating around him bring him to his orgasm faster than expected, and a stream of curse words and praises fall from his mouth onto your ears. He knows you’re on birth control, so he finishes while nestled deep within your core, painting your walls with his release.

The sensation isn't one you’re used to feeling, since he often opts to pull out anyway, but you enjoy coming down from your high while he’s still inside you. Feeling that you’re still connected in the vulnerable moments that follow your sex sessions brings you a sense of comfort you didn’t know you’d been craving.

Once you’ve had some time to regain your breath, he withdraws from you and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. “How was that?” he asks as he lays down beside you and grabs a few tissues to clean up the fluids seeping out of you, onto the duvet.

“Great,” you hum softly, “I enjoyed it. How did it feel for you?”

A look of concern crosses his features as he discards the used tissues in a nearby trashcan. When he turns back to face you, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes and comments, “I’d prefer not to treat you like that.”

“Baby, I know how much you care about me. You’re not hurting my feelings; it’s just roleplaying.” A short pause in your conversation ensues as he contemplates your words while you run your fingers along his neck and jaw. “Would you be open to trying it again, maybe, or was it just not for you?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable speaking to you in that way. I didn’t like calling you a dirty girl or saying that I was gonna fuck your mouth. Seeing your face when I said that nearly made me stop.”

Upon noticing the uncertainty flickering in his dark gaze, you gently coax him to bring his face closer to yours by lightly pressing your fingers against the back of his neck. You then close the gap between your lips once more with a long kiss that you hope communicates to him at least a sliver of the immense amount of love you have for him. His hand cups the side of your face when you pull away, making you smile.

“It’s okay. We won’t do it again if it makes you uncomfortable,” you reassure him, “But will you call me a good girl and take control like that more often? I think I enjoyed that part the most.”

He nods, sending a ripple through the dark sea of waves atop his head, and presses another kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” you utter when he pulls away.

“I love you too, (f/n). Let’s go in the shower now.”

You let out a low murmur of disagreement and pull him closer to you so that his warm body's hovering over yours once more. Giving him a playful tug on his lower lip with your teeth, you mention, “You made me wait too long tonight for one time to be enough, baby.”

masterlist

dedications: this work is dedicated to the lovely @ohbyunhunn :) I hope you enjoy since you were havin a rough day ❤️ thanks for listening to all my whack ideas n supporting me anyway bb 😌

#fran writes hq!!#ahkaahshi gets wild #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu #hq!!#anime #manga #sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #tw: degradation

497 notes · View notes

theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

Note

Omg your requests are open! I don't nwwk fi you have alot of requests in yiurnask box but if you dotn and are feeling up to it could you write a poly lost boys scenario where Paul comes across a mermaid, thinks he's high as a kite, brings her to the cave thinking he's just tripping until the boys are shocked that their brother has a mermaid in his arms. Where it goes I'll leave to you but I'm obsessed with your writing 😃🥡

High Tide (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Mermaid Reader)

Word Count: 1448

Warnings: slight kidnapping??

You really didn't know how you'd gotten into this situation. Everything had been a blur after the blonde, a boy who had introduced himself as Paul, practically swooped you up and kidnapped you.

You were a mermaid, so you were used to having to escape from humans, mainly sailors, but it was made painfully clear that this boy wasn't human when he'd picked you up off your rock and had lifted off into the sky.

After you'd finished screaming about having him put you down, you'd managed to get his name and he'd managed to get yours. He had said that he just wanted to show you to his "boys" and he'd promised,

"Don't worry, pretty hallucination mermaid lady. I'll bring you back to your rock as soon as they see you. Shit, your tail is so cool up close. I've never had visuals like this before-" And you decided that fighting with him was a lost cause. You could feel his grip on you, and you didn't doubt that he was strong. Plus, even if you could wriggle out, you really didn't want him to drop you. You didn't fancy the idea of hitting the water from how high you were, especially since the clouds were closer than the waves below.

So, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and let your head fall onto his shoulder. It was easy to find out from his ramblings that he was a vampire, though you could've figured that one out yourself. But he proceeded to tell you about the rest of his coven, and you guessed that if he didn't think you were a hallucination he wouldn't be telling you some of the things pouring from his mouth.

While he was certainly chatty, you found yourself pulling back to look at his face. Sure, he was talking your ear off, but at least the view was nice. He had a sharp jaw, light stubble and a straight nose. Not to mention two crystal blue eyes that seemed to light up with the rest of his face. And, well, his smile wasn't bad either. But you were pulled from your thoughts when Paul suddenly ducked down, falling fast and heading straight for the cliffs edge. You screamed and shut your eyes, gripping onto his shoulder tightly as he dove haphazardly into what you realized was a cave. He circled for a moment before he dropped, and you only peeled your eyes open when Paul said,

"Guys, I know I'm totally tripping right now, but I swear to God there's a mermaid in my arms." He said, but he was met with silence. You looked around, wondering if perhaps it was his friends that he was hallucinating. But no. There were three other handsome vampires in the room.

One sat in a wheelchair, one sat on the ground with a pigeon in his hands, and the other was standing and holding a skateboard. You could already tell who was who as Paul had spent nearly the entire flight over telling you about them. The one with the curly hair was his bestfriend, Marko. You noticed his cherub face, and his big, doe eyes. They were boring into you, a look of confusion plastered onto his face. His jaw was sharp, and his face seemed almost, you were nearly embarrassed to think so, sculpted. He looked the most boyish, but you knew better than to underestimate a vampire. No matter how angelic they looked, they could be vicious. Your eyes went to the brunette next. This had to be Dwayne. You could tell from the color of his hair and also because Paul had pointedly explained that he never wore a shirt. His face was completely unreadable, but his eyes seemed surprised. They kept looking between you, Paul, and your tail, and you tried not to flush from the intensity of his dark browns. From just his face alone, he seemed to be one of the more obviously intimidating members of the coven, but you couldn't deny that he was handsome. Next, it had to be David. His mouth was partially open, his cigarette hanging from his gloved fingers. He looked as if he was going to say something, but had been rendered speechless. His face was soft, but was rugged from stubble. His hair was styled and bleached, and he wore three different pieces of leather. Whatever his face had in softness, he made up for it by dressing to intimidate. And his eyes. They were exactly the same shade of blue as the ocean. You avoided them and looked around, and realized that Paul was standing on some sort of ledge. There was another second of silence, and then the brunette dropped his skateboard.

It took a total of nearly fifteen minutes to explain to Paul that he was not tripping and that there was a mermaid in his arms. Paul seemed unwilling to believe them, and was quick to assume that they were trying to trick him. All the while they each tried to convince him, and wrap their own heads around the concept, you had been passed from boy to boy. It was a heat of the argument thing, with each of them passing you when they felt they needed their hands to talk, until you ended up in Dwayne's arms. He hadn't said so much as a word, and stared down at you as if he was waiting for you to disappear. When you meekly said,

"Uh, hello." The conversation had momentarily paused. You guessed they hadn't known if you'd be able to speak, but their argument resumed once more, with Dwayne being the only one to whisper back a small,

"Hi." In a deep rumbling voice that nearly just made you embarrassed from the sound of it. But, once he finally realized that yes, you were real and that yes, he had technically kidnapped you from the beach and that no, none of the boys knew what to do and no, none of them seemed particularly eager to let you just swim away, David simply asked,

"So, do you plan on staying in Santa Carla?"

And before you knew it they were filling up the fountain with ocean water so they could spend the rest of the night getting to know you better.

They asked plenty of the usual questions, and you asked a few of your own. Not nearly as many as they did, simply because Paul had already answered most of them. The night ended with Marko sitting on the floor and leaning against the fountain edge. His fingertips glided against the surface of the water, causing small ripples as he stared at you. Finally, he asked,

"Are mermaids always as pretty as you?" And you couldn't stop the flush from reaching your cheeks. You brushed your hair away from your face and waved him away, but he gave you a small grin and reached out to copy your action. His fingers lingered for a moment, before they retreated away. It didn't take long for Paul to ask,

"So, is this like a princess and the frog deal where, if I kiss you, I get a wish or something?" And you laughed at the question. You knew him well enough by now to know that he was just looking for any type of excuse to flirt with you. Same as the other blonde besides him. Paul sat on the fountain instead of on the floor, one of his feet pressed firmly on the ground and the other lifted to the fountain. After catching David's eye for a moment, you decided to flirt back.

"I don't know. I've never kissed anyone before so there's only one way to find out." You said with a small shrug, and you giggled when you watched as it barely took him a second to realize that you were inviting him to kiss you. But, as he leaned down, Dwayne took advantage of his lack of balance and pushed him into the now full fountain. He landed partially on top of you, but caught himself before he could crush you. Paul was quick to bounce back, flipping his now half-wet hair, pressing a peck to your cheek, and letting out a stream of curses as he leapt out of the fountain to grab the brunette. You laughed at their rough-housing, but your eyes caught David's once more. Again, his words echoed inside your head.

So, do you plan on staying in Santa Carla?

For now, you supposed that you did. You sent him a shy smile, and he was quick to return it with a grin of his own.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

364 notes · View notes

scuttling · 3 years ago

Text

Tempting

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 2,392 Tags: 16+, Mature SFW, Pre-relationship, Fantasizing, Accidentally turned on, Mentions of sex Summary: Aaron and Sophie both find themselves... tempted. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! “Hey, just wanted to hand off my profiles,” Sophie says as she peeks her head into Hotch’s office Wednesday night. “Any idea when the department will catch up to the 21st century and let us do these on the computer?” she asks playfully, and he smiles, rolls his eyes a bit.

“It’s not the department that makes us do these on paper, it’s me. Morgan has been trying to get me to switch to digital, says Garcia can make us a user-friendly system in her sleep.” She crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

“And you’re resistant because…?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s nostalgia, or because I hate change.”

“As long as it's not because you’ll miss seeing my smiling face at the end of the day, turning in my files,” she says, and though it’s obvious she’s teasing, that kind of is part of the answer.

He doesn’t want to be just a figure in his office, silently collecting completed case files with a ping of his computer. He knows they know his door is always open, but it’s sometimes the excuse of turning in their work that leads them there, gets them in the door, and he thinks it’s important to maintain.

“All joking aside, I think it could really benefit the team. If you wanted a beta tester, I’d be happy to try it out; we can get together once a week for a couple weeks to discuss any bugs or issues we find with the system. The others don’t even need to know; I could do my regular cases during the day, stay later once or twice a week and work them on the computer. I don’t mind the overtime, I’ve got nothing going on.”

“You should go enjoy your life, not spend extra hours holding my hand because I’m resistant to change.”

“I want to, though, if it will help. And I said I don’t mind the overtime.” They stare each other down for a moment; he is the first to cave, sighing and pushing a hand through his hair.

“I’ll talk to Garcia, see if she has capacity to work on the program this week.” Her answering smile is almost blinding, and he feels warmth spread in his chest; he's been feeling that a lot lately, always where Sophie is concerned, but especially when she smiles. “Hey, while I’ve got you, do you mind looking at a case with me? I can’t help feeling that I’m missing something.”

“Sure, of course.” She walks fully into his office, around the desk so she’s looking over his shoulder at the open file. Her hair falls in cascading waves around her face before she gets a chance to tuck a few strands behind her ear, and the smell of her shampoo is... tempting, to say the least.

It’s coconut, and jasmine, maybe, a light, tropical scent that makes him think of palm trees, fresh pineapple, warm sand under his feet… Sophie in a bikini, a tiny thing that shows off her every curve… Sophie curled up next to him in a private cabana, laughing softly in the moonlight… Sophie on a soft bed in a hotel room, her bare skin, even darker from sunbathing, a beautiful contrast to crisp white sheets…

“Have you considered that the second unsub could be a woman? That would explain how the victims are being lured from the mall—a woman probably wouldn’t stop in a parking garage at night for a man, but she would for another woman, if she’s in trouble.” She turns to look at him, and he’s shaken from his fantasy abruptly.

“No, uh, I hadn’t considered that. That closes the gap in my profile. Good thinking.”

“That’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?” He earns another, softer smile, and he thinks about leaning in to kiss her, how easy that would be. It doesn’t take long to shake that thought away, because it’s almost literally insane, but he can’t deny that he had it.

“Something like that. Are you headed home?” She stands fully, and he’s glad, because that means the temptation is gone. It’s not her fault in any way, all his, but he can’t deny it gets worse the closer she is.

“Not home; the girls and I are meeting around the corner for a drink. Will you be finishing up soon?”

“Probably not, but it’s alright. I have nothing going on,” he says, repeating her turn of phrase. He looks down at his work, and she sighs lightly.

“You could have something going on. Come out for a drink with me.”

“And crash your meeting with the girls?” He’s not entirely certain he’d be welcome, or comfortable, but she makes it sound so easy. Like it’s something he could just decide to do, if he wanted.

“Trust me, they won’t mind.”

“It’s a nice offer, thank you. Maybe another time.” She rests a hand on his desk, on top of his case file so he can’t finish filling out the consultation paperwork, and he has to look up and make eye contact with her, which he’s sure is by design. She’s too good at reading him, sometimes. “Definitely another time. I really do appreciate the offer.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it, Hotch. You need a life outside of this place.” She lifts her hand from the desk, places it briefly on his shoulder, and then heads for the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he sighs at her retreating back. His feelings seem to be getting a little too hard to ignore. Their next case doesn’t come until the beginning of the next week. Sophie goes with Hotch to interview a victim’s mother in hopes that they can find the woman who is currently missing before the unsub kills her, but they come up with nothing, which is all they’ve come up with all day.

It’s clear Hotch is not pleased with their progress. He stands outside the car for a moment, looking like he’s trying to compose himself, and he takes off his jacket and throws it in the back seat.

“Damn it,” he hisses when they get back into the car, slamming his hands against the steering wheel; he scrubs a hand through his hair, unbuttons his cuffs, and rolls up his shirt sleeves a bit more angrily than seems strictly necessary. Sophie can’t keep her eyes off of his hands as he pushes the fabric up over his forearms—baring firm muscles covered in thick, dark hair—and when he throws the car into reverse and turns his head, placing his palm on the back of her headrest while he looks behind them, it gets her a little… hot.

It’s nothing new, of course. She has been feeling certain things, where Hotch is concerned—some emotional things, some physical things—for a little while now, if she’s being honest with herself. And she’s usually got the presence of mind to ignore it, or force it to the back of her thoughts, but he caught her off guard and she’s spiraling, now, imagining his hands on either side of her head, on her throat, holding open her thighs. His hands are close all the time, and visible, and the thought of reaching out to touch them is just so… tempting.

She must be making an oh, shit face, because his eyes become more inquisitive, his features a little softer. “What’s wrong?” She’s breathing heavily, and her cheeks feel warm, so she probably looks insane; she just shakes her head and exhales lightly, tries to calm herself.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He looks like he absolutely does not believe her, and she curses herself for the hundredth time for choosing to work around a bunch of profilers; they’re always thinking, analyzing, squinting their eyes at you and trying to figure you out, and it can get really irritating.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry if I upset you,” he says when he’s done squinting. She almost wants to laugh: he’s worried about upsetting her over a minor curse word while she’s literally hot under the collar for him; her chest feels like it’s on fire, always quick to flush when she’s aroused, and she’s thanking the gods that she chose a crew neck t-shirt today and not a v-neck, or the situation would probably be a lot more awkward.

“You didn’t upset me, Hotch, it’s okay,” she insists, and he breaks eye contact to focus on the road.

They ride in silence the rest of the way to the precinct, but he doesn’t move to exit the vehicle after he takes the keys out of the ignition. “I’m sorry again for my outburst. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, at least not with you in the car.” She sits back in her seat, because this is now about more than her embarrassing moment from before.

“You’re allowed to be human, you know,” she tells him, and when it looks like he’s about to argue, she shakes her head. “I know the bureau likes to discourage it, but being in tune with our emotions and other people’s emotions is what makes us the best at what we do. Don’t apologize for the things you feel.”

“I have to lead by example. It’s the best way to set clear expectations.”

“Telling us your expectations is the best way to set clear expectations. You don’t have to pretend to be emotionless. When you’re angry, be angry.” He frowns, looks at her like what she’s saying makes absolutely no sense.

“When I got angry just now, you were looking at me like you were seeing something about me for the first time. Like you were afraid of me.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you, it’s… it’s nothing. I’d really rather not get into it.” His face softens again, and he’s giving her a look that’s usually reserved for families of victims, which throws her off guard.

“I know that victims of abuse can sometimes have a negative reaction to shouting…”

She wants to groan. He’s being so kind, but if he doesn’t let this go...

“I’m not a victim of abuse, and you didn’t scare me.” He still looks guilty, and if that’s what he thinks happened, and that’s how she made him feel? Well she’s gotta come clean sooner than later. She takes a deep breath. “You turned me on, okay? You were angry, and you rolled up your sleeves, and then you put your hand on the back of my seat and it just… affected me. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mutters, covering her face with her hand. Hotch processes that, is still processing that when she removes her fingers from her face. He just looks at her, expression carefully blank.

“Oh. Uh, well. It’s natural; nothing you could have done about it.” She sighs at that, runs a hand through her hair.

“I know, I’m not ashamed of being aroused, or anything, but—we’re working, you’re my boss. The situation is awkward.” He looks at the steering wheel, like he can’t say what he’s going to say directly to her.

“You shouldn’t feel awkward. This kind of thing happens to all of us.” She arches her brow, smiles a little incredulously.

“You’re telling me you, Aaron Hotchner, have been inappropriately turned on on the job before?” He shrugs, nodding.

“Sure, yes.” Her brows rise further into her hairline, not believing him for a second; he sighs at her expression and shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “Okay. You were in my office last week, leaning over my shoulder to look at a case file, and I could smell your shampoo. It’s coconut, right?” She nods, not sure exactly where the story is going, but she feels herself getting hot again, against literally her every wish. “Well, it made me daydream of the vacation I so desperately want: a drink in my hand, sun on my skin, sand beneath my feet… making love late at night with a breeze blowing through the open patio door.”

“Oh.” Her heart is racing, beating so hard she’s almost surprised the sound doesn’t give her away, and her breathing is heavy, and she thinks he’s about to speak again when someone taps on his window abruptly. He rolls it down and Gideon sticks his head in.

“There’s another body, 482 West Hemlock; you two might as well stay in the car and meet us there.”

“Will do,” Hotch replies, and Gideon nods, steps away from the car. If he wonders why they were sitting there unbuckled for so long, he doesn't show it.

They back out of the parking lot sexy-incident-free, and they’ve gone a few blocks before he turns to look at her again. “Are we okay? I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“No, you didn't. We’re okay.” She smiles softly, actively thinking about anything but vacation sex with her boss.

(It’s surprisingly difficult.)

They process the crime scene, gaining some new insight about the unsub, and before long they’re ready for a profile. Sophie opts to ride back to the station with Prentiss under the guise of letting Gideon and Hotch iron out the details, but really she needs to be as far away from him as possible while working the case, or she’s going to lose her mind.

The rest of the day is uneventful, spent poring over pages and pages of cold case files trying to link other murders to the one that occurred earlier that day. They identify at least 15, and when they literally can’t go on for a minute longer, Hotch calls it and they discuss where to go to grab some dinner.

Italian wins, and Sophie gets a big, beautiful bowl of pasta primavera and a glass of white wine, and it’s almost enough to make her forget all about the day until Hotch catches her eye from across the table, smiling at something Morgan said, and her stomach clenches. She smiles lightly, trying to hide it, but she’s not sure she was able to save face in time. She spends the rest of the meal arguing semantics with Reid, something so perfectly normal that it shouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions.

She feels eyes on her anyway, but she doesn’t look in their direction.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner/original female character #Criminal minds fanfic

45 notes · View notes