#but it look so bad i had to shift back to the original gentleman step on Pose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

Text

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years

Text

just hold me ~ yungblud

word count: 2206

request?: yes!

“Could you write a fluffy yungblud fic? Like maybe the reader has been going through a tough mental health time, and he helps? 🖤”

description: after a week that is mentally trying, all she wants is for her boyfriend to hold her

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

You know those weeks that just absolutely kick your ass? The ones that absolutely nothing is going right and it feels like nothing will ever go right?

Yeah, that was my week.

It started off by realizing that one of my assignments that I thought I had so much time to do was due that day, and I wasn’t even close to being finished. I tried to give my professor some bullshit reason to get an extension but she wouldn’t hear of it, and because I even tried to get an extension she told me she wouldn’t even take it late and marked the assignment as a zero. Then I got my schedule for work and found that they were starting to take shifts away from me. So many, in fact, that I’d be lucky if I was able to make rent and bills. Besides all of that, school was just kicking my ass in general. I was starting to fall behind in my classes but I was feeling so down about everything lately that I felt as though I couldn’t sit still to do any of my schoolwork.

I found myself hitting my breaking point after a particularly rough day at work. Customers were being more rude than usual and I had been run off my feet the entire day. I was clocking out for the day when my manager pulled me aside to talk to me.

“A customer complained about you,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft as she spoke. I knew my manager liked me enough, but she had this way of talking that always made her sound like she was angry.

“What?” I said. “When? For what?”

“Shortly before you clocked out. They were demanding to see the manager, so Julie came and got me and brought me to their table. They said you were being very rude to them and refused to serve them, and that you made Julie do it instead.”

I could not believe this.

I knew exactly what table my manager was talking about of course. It was a table of four - a man, a woman, and two teenaged looking kids. They were supposed to be my last table of the day before I was cut. I had only been there for maybe ten minutes before they started demanding a new server instead of me. They were asking me questions that I wasn’t too sure of about the food on the menu, and when I told them I could ask the kitchen so I could give them a proper answer, the man freaked at me and called me all sorts of awful names. He told me I was incompetent and he didn’t understand why the restaurant would hire someone who didn’t even know the “simplest of answers to simple questions”.

His poor kids looked so awkward over it. His wife basically ignored the whole situation and continued to look at her menu.

I had tried to remain as cool as I could but I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. I asked again if he wanted me to ask the kitchen about the questions he had, and he responded, “No, I want you to get me a server who can actually do their job.”

I got Julie, who had been working at the restaurant for roughly two years. I explained the situation to her and she told me I could get ready to clock out if I wanted to.

I guess between doing exactly what I was told by that rude table and finally getting the clock out, he had complained about me to Julie and to my manager and made up some stupid story to get me in trouble.

“Oh my God,” I sighed. “I swear to you, that is not the truth at all.”

“I know it’s not,” she assured me. “When Julie came to get me she explained the whole situation. Even if she didn’t, I’d know they were lying. You’re too nice and too kind to be rude to even an asshole table like them.” She sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. “But that gentleman was so furious that he demanded some kind of actions be taken. I told him nothing could be done besides maybe a note being put on your professional record.”

I didn’t understand what she was telling me at first, but when it dawned on me my heart fell to my stomach.

“No, no you can’t,” I said, trying to keep back the tears that starting to run down my face. “I wasn’t even rude to them, you can’t write me up for something I didn’t do.”

“And I’ll make a note of that in the write up,” she told me. “But for now it’s all I can do. You had a customer complain about you, it’s our company policy that we give employees write ups when we feel it’s the right thing to do.”

So she thinks it’s the right thing to to permanently stain your professional record, and to push you one step closer to being fired.

Before anything else could be said, I raced out of the doors into the parking lot. I covered my mouth to stifle my sobs until I got to my car. Once I was there, I placed my head against the steering wheel and began to sob.

I was there for at least 20 minutes because I didn’t trust myself to drive yet. I could barley calm myself down, but eventually I just wanted to leave. I didn’t want to risk seeing the asshole and his family leaving the restaurant, and frankly, I just didn’t want to be there anymore.

I started driving towards my apartment, but as my sobbing and shaking began again, I realized I didn’t want to be alone then. I came to a red light and quickly shot my boyfriend, Dom, a text asking him if it was alright if I went to his place instead.

His response came almost immediately. “Of course it’s alright baby! You don’t have to ask!”

I arrived shortly after and let myself in with the key he had given me. I threw my work stuff onto the floor, knowing I would feel guilty about it once I had completely calmed down. I made my way to Dom’s room where I knew he would be. As usual when he wasn’t recording or touring, he was sat on his bed watching Netflix. He turned to greet me with a smile, only for his smile to drop when he saw my face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, starting to get up from the bed.

I shook my head and held a hand out, stopping him from getting up. As he laid back down, I took off the hoodie I had been wearing and my work jeans, which were now basically stuck to me with sweat, leaving me in just my t-shirt and my underwear. I climbed onto Dom’s bed and rested my head on his chest.

“Just hold me,” I said. “Please.”

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I began to sob yet again, thinking over all the bad that had happened to me this week. I felt so tired, both mentally and physically, and I just wished there was a way to take a break from it all.

Dom ran his hands up and down my body, trying to soothe me into some form of calm. Eventually, my exhaustion got the best of me and I fell asleep in Dom’s arms.

~~~~~~

Some time later, I woke up alone under the covers of Dom’s bed. I rolled over to look for my phone to check the time, only to find that it was nowhere to be found. It was dark outside, which meant it was still nighttime, and yet Dom wasn’t asleep next to me.

I was still in my t-shirt and underwear from when I had arrived to Dom’s, so the day before, unfortunately, wasn’t a dream.

I heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and got up to see if that’s where Dom had gone. Sure enough, I found my boyfriend knelt next to the bathtub, filling it with water so hot that I could see the steam coming from it.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

He seemed startled when I spoke, and turned to look at me. “Oh no, I wanted to wake you when I had the bath ready for you.”

“Well, I’m glad I caught you, because that water looks way too hot,” I teased and reached around him to turn down the hot water and turn up the cold instead. “Why are you running me a bath at like...I don’t know, kinda late at night? And where’s my phone?”

“I have it with mine,” he responded. “Which is in a hidden spot, because you need to take a break from your phone.”

I couldn’t argue with him there. “What’s up with the bath then?”

“You always say that a hot bath helps you to relax after a hard day,” Dom explained. “And obviously today was a hard day, so I’m running you this bath and I have that gold bath bomb you like so much.”

“When did you get that? I haven’t left any bath bombs here in a while.”

“I bought it in case of emergencies.”

I smiled at Dom and sat on the toilet seat lid to watch as he finished filling the bathtub. He had me test the water before pulling me to a stand and helping to take off my clothes. Even though it wasn’t meant to be in a sexual manner, there was something extremely intimate about Dom pulling my shirt over my head and my panties down my legs.

I got into the water and sighed as my body sank down till the only thing not underwater was my neck. Dom got the gold bath bomb from under the sink and gave me the honors of dropping it into the water as that was my favorite part of bath bombs.

“Are you joining me?” I asked.

He smiled cheekily and began to undress. “That was my original plan, but I decided to wait and see if you wanted me to join.”

I sat forward, giving him room to slip into the tub behind me. Once he had settled himself, I leaned back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and began kissing my neck and shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as his lips continued to trail over whatever bare skin he could reach.

I sighed. “Not really, but I guess the only way to work past it is to talk about it.”

I told him everything; about school, about work, about the asshole customer that fucked me over. He listened for however long I talked without interrupting. Once it was clear that I had finished talking, he spoke.

“That guy is a fuckin wanker,” he said. “I can’t believe people like that exist. You were just trying to do your job and he fucked you over like that.”

“It happens,” I said. “Hasn’t happened to me before today, but all my co-workers have stories of assholes who will complain to the manager for the littlest of things. We had someone complain once because their food didn’t look like it did in the picture on the menu and they wanted it for free. That’s usually all people want - free food.”

“I can’t believe your manager is going along with that,” he said. “Even if she makes a note that you did nothing wrong, that’s still looking bad on you.”

“I think they want to fire me,” I admitted. “That’s the only reason they would be giving me less shifts. They want to slowly get rid of me before they straight up fire me.”

“I don’t think they’ll do that, babe.”

“I think they will. I’ve probably done one too many things wrong and now it’s my time to get the boot. It happens so often that whenever someone gets a few less shifts a week we panic.”

Dom squeezed me a moment before kissing me behind my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Well, if they want to fire you then we’ll look for a new job. You don’t have to stay there and take shit from assholes and let your managers treat you like dirt to keep the assholes happy. There’s hundreds of restaurants you could work at instead.”

For some reason, this thought hadn’t occurred to me.

“I’d like that,” I said. “But I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? I’m starting to relax, I don’t want to get worked up again.”

“Okay, baby.”

We were silent for a moment, just the sounds of the water shifting around us filling the room. I leaned my head back enough that I could look up at Dom. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For...for being you.”

He smiled at me and kissed my head. “Thank you for being you, too.”

I smiled and settled myself against him again, allowing myself to finally relax for the first time all week.

#yungblud #yungblud imagine #yungblud x reader #dom harrison #dom harrison imagine #dom harrison x reader #dominic harrison #dominic harrison x reader #dominic harrison imagine #imagine #request #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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beatleszeppelin · 3 years

Text

You're A... Inexperienced Chapter 2

Summary: On watch one night you find out some thing that Daryl has never done. And you offer him some experience.

Category: Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, just a good ol’ time

Paring: Daryl x reader (second person)

Warnings/Includes: General Walking Dead grossness, Smut (but not in this chapter), swearing, use of weapons, non-graphic hunting, mention of past child abuse, (let me know if you see anything else)

Word count: 3k

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2 Naked in a Lake

The next few days were fairly uneventful. Seeing Daryl only in passing. He stayed outside when you were in; you stayed outside when he stayed in.

Not even shifts brought you together. Since the fall of Woodbury, there have been plenty of new people taking shifts to give you all a break.

Most of your time was spent helping with the kids in the library when Carol was too busy doing important things to “babysit”. Or you occasionally helped out at the farm on the south side of the prison. Rick and Hershel had started it over the past few months, and already it had yielded some fine meals.

Those meals were also made courtesy of Daryl, who went out into the woods on the daily, not going far, but far enough to be out all day and come back with a belt full of squirrels and rabbits by night. You had no idea how he did it or how far he went, but he seemed to be used to the days of solitude, in nature alone.

That was all until he planned to go out a bit farther, only for a couple days, but that was more that he had been gone in a while, more than anyone had been alone for a while. When he shared these plans, you decided that you would go out hunting with him, you know, because there is safety in numbers, (and you were dying to see what he spent so much time doing everyday).

So when morning came, and it was time to leave you brought your bag and followed him to the gate. He squinted at you being blinded by the morning light that rose over the prison. “I’m coming with you, is that alright?” You asked him knowing that he couldn’t argue. You awaited his response, but it never came, instead he had the gate opened and held his arm out like a gentleman letting you lead.

You guys walked past the spikes that guarded the outside of the gates, just as the queens guards once did outside of Buckingham palace. Kicking rocks and dust clouds along the path, walking went fairly slow. Not much to say, not much to do this early in the morning. You hadn’t even waited for Carl and Carol’s shift, which normally signified morning, to start before you had left. (You were sure he had said good-bye to them, Rick, and Judith the night before though. He was good like that.)

When the sun, which was barely peering over the land when you left, had risen enough to give you a long shadow, stretched out in front of you; you decided it was time to eat. Taking the backpack off your shoulders, and unzipping it when it was in front of you, you pulled out a small loaf of bread. You broke it in half and handed some to Daryl. He gnashed into it like a rabid dog, grunting a thank you in between bites.

You nibbled off bites as you walked, trying to savor it as something to do. The scenery of trees and a dirt path was getting old. You couldn’t understand how someone could go out along this path all day every day.

It was hot, too. Hot and sweaty. By mid-day you felt as though you were dragging, lifting your legs in a pedantic manner. Daryl’s hair was stuck to his forehead, and he had stripped his poncho, just left in a cut off flannel. He seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat though, barely even touching his water.

You wonder if he stayed outside a lot before as well. There’s something about him that makes it so hard to imagine him in his house, in a domestic setting. Did he do the dishes, and make himself food? Was his room clean, did he make his bed every morning before work? Did he have a job? What did he do? But you know that wondering these things will only pass the time, because there is no way he’d ever casually mention his previous life.

People had tried guessing, to no avail. Beth’s new boyfriend, Zach, was the leader of the guessers, being followed by the children, and you’ve even discussed it with both Michonne and Carol before. It would really take something special to make him confess his stories to someone, who knows who could get that close to him though.

You spent the majority of your walk picturing him in an office setting, wearing a tie and answering phones. Or at a gas station glaring at little kids who try to stuff candy bars up their sleeves, scaring them into obeying the law.

Mechanic seemed to fit best. Not a sleazy mechanic that finds more things to break to get

some extra cash, but one that spends day and night tracking down an original piece to some old beat up motorcycle. He wouldn’t charge extra for labor, cause he’d be doing the thing he loved most. He would treat each bike as his own, tirelessly making it perfect until the finishing pieces were in their exact place, like the sprinkles on a sundae.

“Gonna cut into the woods, right here.” He nodded, directing you.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you said, snapping out of your little daydream. “Ya’ okay?” He ducked down, meeting your eyes though his hair.

“Yeah, I’s just thinking.”

“‘Kay, just watch out in here. Can’t make too much sound.”

You walked through the dense forest, making as little noise as you possibly could. Heel, toe; heel, toe. Only cracking branches and crunching leaves every few steps, listening to Daryl’s deep steadying breaths in between.

He taught you how to lay traps, and snares; different knots and when to use them. By the end of the day you could set your own, with the reassurance that he would help kill whatever you caught. No matter how many walkers you would kill, and how much bad shit you’ve seen. It still felt weird killing animals to eat.

The trapping, and mapping out your paths came to an end as night fell. The darkness made it too difficult to achieve the superb knots you were tying, and the sub par snares that Daryl would set, so you two decided to call it a night, sleeping in shifts back to back.

The next day went the same, but it was now time for the actual hunting. You left the killing to Daryl, using your lack of a silent long range weapon, like the crossbow as an excuse. You guys sat up wind, and out of the line of sight of any animals that may pass. It was quiet, and you understood why he liked it.

Hunting wasn’t all killing like you had imagined; hunting was 99% sitting quietly in nature, 1% killing.

You can’t lie about the fact that when a deer came into sight, you closed your eyes and didn’t open them until you heard the click of the trigger on the crossbow. You didn’t want to see the animal die, but you can’t feel bad about how many people that deer could feed.

Daryl took care of the dirty work, cleaning, and “prepping” the deer to be taken home. You sat by and watched.

Once the task was complete, you started back for the prison, hoping it would cut some of the time of the walk back tomorrow. This time was cut short by the approaching darkness of night.

You two set up a small camp to spend the ever closer night. And with cans on strings, as tripwire, and your backs to each other, you two felt it was safe enough to get some rest, that was until the cans rattled.

The sounds of metal clanking, shook you from your not so deep sleep. You whipped around to see a walker reaching over your barricade of tangled fishing wire and old soda cans. It stumbled over and grabbed Daryl's boot, luckily he tied up his pant legs with cords to keep from being scratched. You scrambled over to a half awake Daryl and pulled his knife from his pocket, stabbing it into the undead's brain. He nodded graciously as you handed his knife back. You both sat still in the early hours of the morning, breathing heavily until your adrenaline died down.

Your eyes stung from lack of sleep, but it was nothing compared to how Daryl looked. His eyes were puffy, and had dark purple craters around them, and what little you could see of his eyes were bloodshot. His hair stuck up in every which direction, the bangs that normally cover his face, were defying gravity, and exposed his forehead.

“You can sleep, but let's face each other this time,” you planned.

“You sure?” he said groggily.

“Yeah, if you saw yourself, you’d be sure too.”

He scoffed, and pulled his vest out as an acting pillow, tucking one arm under it, and laying his head down. He fell asleep shortly, and you watched.

The expression he made was soft, and innocent, less like a child and more like a puppy that tired out running in a field all day. He subconsciously held his thumb to his mouth. He breathed heavily through his mouth, with quiet snores escaping occasionally.

You didn’t sleep at all that night, you couldn’t let anything disturb the peace. You weren’t tired, though, you actually felt like you had gotten a full night’s rest.

The two of you started home at the crack of dawn, with dull yellow light illuminating the grass you stood on. You took to the woods for your trek home, rather than the long road you took to get there.

Halfway through the day you happened upon a lake that looked beautiful, a direct juxtaposition to everything you had been used to seeing. The water sparkled, and light refracted off the ripples in every which direction. Birds made chirping sounds that echoed through the dense forest, and made a song through the trees.

Daryl grabbed a plastic bottle, and some of the sandy silt that covered the edge of the water, making a makeshift water filter. As he did so, you took off your shorts and threw them aside, wading into the water. The water was greenish, but you could see your feet, and the dust clouding around your steps. The water was warm enough to not give you the chills, but cool enough to be refreshing.

Once the water hit your hips, you took your shirt off and threw it a few feet away from Daryl, joining your shorts, and shortly after your bra. You watched him finish his contraption and fill it.

“Should have some water in an hour or so…” he looked up and saw you, then quickly looked back at his bottle.

“Maybe we could catch a fish or something, too,” you said, smiling at his back. “You should join me in here.”

“Nah” he shook his head.

“Yeah, when was the last time you got cleaned up?”

“I ain’t gonna, someone needs to be a lookout.” He looked up at you, standing his ground. “Anyway, I gotta piss.”

He started walking away and you yelled to him, “Yeah, sure you do, Dixon.” You splashed his way, but he had already walked behind the trees.

A noise came from your left, behind a couple of thick trees. Two walkers stumbled out, slipping on the sandy hill. You didn’t have any weapons on you, and getting back over to your clothes seemed like a death wish. They were closer to the clothes and things than you were. Daryl didn’t even have his crossbow with him, it was in the pile next to the water filter.

You yelled for Daryl, hoping he’d get back before the walkers could reach you. You yelled again, and it drew their attention. They were about at the edge of the water now, and you were fucked… but a whistle came out of the woods.

Daryl showed up and whistled loudly to catch the attention of the dead walking toward you. It worked. They started toward him at a slow pace, and you ran over to the pile of stuff. You picked one off with the crossbow. Daryl tripped backwards on a rock, and the walker stumbled towards him, wishing to bite into the leg that was trying to kick it backwards. He grabbed the rock, lifted it over his head, and smashed it down onto the walker, and hitting it again smashed his head open, covering Daryl in it’s blood. He leaned back and dropped the rock. He took a second to catch his breath.

“Hey, thanks” You said to him as you were naked and dripping like a wet dog.

He sighed and raised his eyebrows. Which you will take as a “no problem.”

Daryl’s hair dripped with blood, guts, and rotting chunks of flesh. His shirt was wet, red, and sweaty. The muddy sand covered his pants and hands, leaving him dirtier than before.

“I guess you have to join me now” you said, still mostly naked.

He begrudgingly kicked off his boots, and slid his vest off down his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He started walking to the edge of the water, when you had to stop him.

“What, NO!” You said haulting him, “You are not still wearing your socks.”

He took off his socks, and his pants. He walked into the lake, a couple feet in and the water hit the bottom of his shirt.

You never took Daryl as the type of person to not be okay with taking his shirt off, but here he was: standing in a lake with his shirt on, contemplating whether he should take it off or not. He stood there for a couple seconds before looking at you, and when you gave him a reassuring smile, he took it off. He looked good with it off, you didn’t see a problem, until he turned around.

He whipped around fast to throw his shirt on land, and as he did, you saw his back. He was covered in scars. Yeah, some could be new, from fighting, from surviving, but you take it he’d been surviving for a lot longer than the rest of you had.

The slashes that riddled his skin were old. He could have gotten most of them when he was still a kid. You swallowed hard, he turned and faced you but neither of you met each other's eyes. He got quiet. And as his hand pensively rubbed the back of his neck, as he thought about what you must think of him.

“Hey, come on in the water’s fine,” you said to ease the tension.

It seemingly worked, because the next thing he did was dive under, swimming to you in a second. The water rippled along the path he had swam, and broke around his emerging body. You met his eye. He nodded to you as a thanks, and you shook your head back at him in a no problem kind of way. This practice had become routine, it was easier than constantly owing thanks to the other person for some trivial task such as saving their lives.

He broke eye contact and looked down, “Still gotta piss.”

You snickered. Then stepping back a couple of feet you gestured for him to go right ahead.

He looked at you, head cocked a little, and then the realization hit and his ears turned bright red. He turned around, and you got a better look at his scars. Some were short slashes, some longer, and others crossed over each other. You couldn’t fathom the person that would hit a child, let alone Daryl; Daryl was sweet, and could never have done something that deserved this treatment.

He finished up and faced you, but didn’t meet your eyes. You got a look at him, the man that just pissed in the pool in front of you, his ears were red as well as his cheeks making a bridge across his nose. The blush trailed down to his upper chest in splotches, like watercolors splaying out.

He chewed the corner of his thumb and said, “Ya’ know, I used to piss the bed as a kid.”

“I mean we all did,” You said. “Come here.”

He complied, “Nah, I mean ‘til I’s like 8 or so.”

“Bend over,” you told him.

He leaned back and you started washing his hair for him, detangling it with your fingers, and picking things out of it like you were monkeys.

“I remember a couple times it happened, had to sneak out late at night and do my laundry in the bathroom, so no one’d hear me. But this once, my dad wasn’t home so, I didn’t get… but my mom had this whole ‘nother way of doing it. She took my clothes. Pinned me down, Merle helped. She put a diaper on me, made me sleep outside.”

“When you were 8?” You cupped some water and dumped it over his head.

“Uh huh, made me wear ‘em to school, too. Under my clothes. Said if I took ‘em off she’s gonna tell my dad, so I didn’t.” He went back to biting his thumb.

“That shouldn’t have happened to you,” you said, moving to wash his shoulders.

He shrugged, and flinched away when you ran your finger over a scar on his back.

“You know, stress and trauma cause children to start wetting the bed later on in childhood, it's called enuresis, it wasn’t your fault,” You splashed water on his shoulders, noticing the freckles made by the sun.

“Done?” He asked, standing up straight.

“What?”

“Am I done?” he asked and shook his hair out like a dog.

“Yeah, you’re good.”

Daryl quickly made his return to land, you however stayed in the water until the filter was done giving you each a bottle. Every once in a while you catch him glance over at you floating naked in the lake, but his eyes would quickly divert.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd fanfic #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead #tw past child abuse #I love the lake scene

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oikirstein · 3 years

Text

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 | 𝐫.𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚

PAIRING: suna x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: It was a quiet night you were to have—until Suna came knocking on your door at 11 PM.

CONTAINS: angst, drugs (weed), suggestive content, tw: kissing, shotgunning, suna’s mom’s honda odyssey

WORD COUNT: 3,097

A/N: this bad boy is dedicated to my sussy little baka @hikariakaashi giggles (derogatory). you’ve been going through a suna brain rot recently and when i told you my fantasy about shotgunning with suna, you encouraged me to write it, so here it is chuckles immensely. i hope u like it ily :biteslip:

big thank you to @kyotarou for beta reading and giving me mini heart attacks & to @hajigumi for making my header after saying it was ugly (/j) <3

The silence of your room was peaceful. The stars shone brightly outside your balcony window, moonlight glistening through the translucent curtains. It wasn’t absurd for you to be all by lonesome, it was only natural for the daughter of a CEO to find herself busy with things that didn’t concern the family. They were raising you to be an heir after all, a feat that required independence to be a shining skill. Still, standing in an empty room, it was a lonely situation to be living in. You were grateful to have such a future practically placed in the palms of your hands, but you wished there was something more. You wanted to experience what it was like to break free from the shackles of responsibility and keeping up appearances. A lot of your time was spent wondering if things would’ve been different had you been given a choice, but unfortunately, life did not give you the option to change the past.

That’s why you were so thankful to have heard the light knock that originated from the wood of your balcony door. A light flinch overtook your body at the sound, like you were anticipating his presence. You tiptoed your way over to the door, your warm hand radiating heat onto cool metal of the doorknob. With your ear pressed to the wood, a soft giggle fell from your lips.

“Who is it?” you teased, knowing full well who was on your terrace at this late hour.

“Why don’t you open up the door and see for yourself?” You could practically see the smirk that played on his face.

Without hesitation, you swung the door open so fast the hinges didn’t have the chance to creak. You jumped into his arms at first glance, him carrying you with ease. “Rintaro! What are you doing here?”

He placed you back down on your feet before taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his lips, “It’s a beautiful night, is it not?”

You blushed at the contact of his soft lips on your skin, anxiety washing over you as you scanned the perimeter.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Well, no one’s gonna catch us if we aren’t here for them to catch,” he whispered, jerking his head to the side as if to insinuate they were going to leave the property.

If someone had caught you with a boy—the boy being Suna, no less—you surely would’ve been reprimanded by your father. On the other hand, the past couldn’t be changed, and the consequences of the future were for a different you to worry about. What was life without a little risk anyway?

“You mean like...sneaking out?” You warily looked around as you shut the door, the click of the knob sealing your fate.

He lightly grabbed hold of your hand and started his way down the stairs of your parapet. “Well how else would we spend today?”

You followed him, hand in hand, through all the twists and turns that presented themselves in your garden, until you reached the outermost edge of the estate.

Suna promptly released your grip, intertwining his own fingers to hoist you over the wall, “After you.”

You held onto his shoulder as you stepped onto him, “Such a gentleman,” and climbed over the wall with ease.

Rintaro swiftly followed you, using his upper body to lift himself above the marble. After dusting his hands off on his jeans, he led you to the street just beyond the backyard.

As you approached the vehicle, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. All I had was my mom’s old Honda,�� you gave him an apologetic smile to reassure him that trivial things such as car brands didn’t matter. He stepped in front you to open the passenger door, waiting for you to be all settled in before winking. “But don’t worry, she won’t be back home until next month,” then he shut the door.

Your eyes followed him as he walked around the front of the minivan to get to the driver’s side, “What? What do you mean? Sunarin! Why does it matter if she’s not home!”

All he could do was laugh as he opened his own door. Hopping into the car and resting his wrist on the steering wheel, his eyes made a quick glance at the center console before putting his seatbelt on and starting the ignition. “Like I said, princess, it’s a beautiful night.”

The silence of the drive was peaceful. It was a comforting kind of silence, the kind that enveloped you in warmth. Everything felt okay in this abyss of quiet because you were in this abyss together.

You leaned your head against the window, feeling the cold air of night permeating through the glass before you sighed. “Say, how long until we reach our destination?”

Rintaro shifted in his seat, placing his right elbow on the armrest of the door and placing his head in his palm. He darted his eyes to you and back to the road with a smile, “Be patient. Good things come to those who wait.”

Sitting up straight, you crossed your arms over your chest and imitated a child’s pout. “Well can you at least tell me what we’re gonna do?”

He looked at you, then to the center console, then back at you before shrugging his shoulders. It was like giving a dog a bone. You squinted your eyes at him before untangling your arms and snaking your finger over to the medium and clicking it open. In the corner of your vision, you could see Suna trying to stifle a laugh. Curiosity getting the best of you, you leaned over to look into it, and your eyes widened at the sight.

“Seriously?” you rolled your eyes at him.

As you pulled into what seemed like a forest, he threw his head back in a guffaw.

“What? There’s no better way to celebrate, baby.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and gave you a kiss on your temple before pulling the keys out of the ignition. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” You mimicked his actions and took your seatbelt off.

“Look up.”

You questioned his statement for a second before looking up through the panoramic sunroof of his mom’s Honda Odyssey.

“Oh my god. It’s beautiful.” Your eyes were full of wonder, much like a child, as you stared at the dazzling pink moon above you. “How did you find this place?”

He looked up for a moment, pretending to be lost in thought. “I dunno. Just came across it I guess.”

“Who would’ve thought I’d be alive to witness such a phenomenon!” You giggled, gazing at the sky once more. Turning to Suna, who was staring at you, you commented, “For real, it’s so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you though.”

He was so suave sometimes it made you itch. Scoffing at him, you chose to ignore what he said, instead holding your hand out and saying, “Oh shut up and pass me a lighter.”

Suna dug his hands into the console and once he had everything in his hands, he motioned for you to shut the top. You watched him diligently as he twisted the grinder, once, twice, three times before taking a wrapper out of the packaging and running his tongue on it. He has such nice hands, you thought as the veins flexed against his bones. He laid the paper flat onto the leather and snapped his gaze back at you.

“Hey, pay attention. How’re you gonna do this by yourself if you’re too busy looking at me, hm?” He loved to tease you, loved to see the heat rise to your cheeks when he took advantage of a perfect moment—loved to fluster you speechless. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He took your silence as you admitting defeat, no retort coming to mind. Chuckling at your scrunched eyebrows and focused eyes, he took the wrapper back into his palm and unscrewed the grinder to sprinkle the weed onto the paper. With a steady hand, he placed the container down and rolled up the blunt. Suna tucked the edges of the paper into itself, and taking the lavender lighter that sat on the dashboard, he ran his thumb across the sparkwheel, running the flame across the wrapper.

Once he was done, he held the blunt between his thumb and index finger, taking a look at his proud work. Placing his elbow on the console, he slowly flicked his wrist to your side, ushering you to take the blunt from his fingers. Holding it with your left hand, he placed the lighter in your right. You paused before placing the blunt in between your lips, “I don’t know Rin, I just can’t imagine a world where you don’t roll for me,” you shrugged your shoulders, finally making contact with the paper. As you lit the end of the blunt in the darkness of the car, you couldn’t help but wither at the flame. You never really noticed in the daylight, how fast the light goes out. It was strikingly more apparent in the dark. Before you knew it, your eyes had shut and the flame was out. Perhaps at this moment you could’ve made some cliche anecdote about how life was like a flame, and it would be out before you knew it, so it was best to make the warmth last, but you were just so entirely encapsulated by it’s light that it was gone before you even had time to think about it.

You took a deep inhale, closing your eyes and clearing your thoughts as you let the smoke simmer in your throat, only exhaling when you felt as though you couldn’t breathe anymore.

“That’s my good girl. Seems like you did learn a thing or two from hanging out with a rascal like me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, increasingly getting closer to his body. “As if I had baby lungs before we met.”

A low chuckle erupted from his chest. Watching you take another hit, eyes drunk on the sight of you, he patted lightly on his thighs. You smiled at him, vapor spilling from your teeth, and lifted your body over the middle separation of the car. With you now straddling his legs, he placed his rough palms on your waist, holding onto your skin as if he was afraid to let go. You wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders and he brought his hand up to brush his thumb against your lip. Gently pulling you in, he settled your soft lips on his, feeling his lungs fill with the smoke from yours. It was slow, the moment feeling everlasting as your bodies moved in sync and your tongues brushed against each other. You pulled apart for a moment, the taste still lingering while Suna turned his head to the side and exhaled.

He looked back up at you with stinging eyes, words could not possibly describe how beautiful you looked under the glowing pink moon. He pulled you in once more, this time more forceful. Teeth clashing and saliva spilling—he couldn’t get enough of you. You held the sides of his face with the heels of your palms, kneeling on the seat below you, desperately wanting to get closer. Suna drew back from your lips with a pop, only to come back and run his tongue all the way down your jawline and neck. Quiet moans ruptured from your throat as he sucked and nipped at the skin. You brought the joint to your lips and sucked on the end until the tip was bright red, only exhaling when Rintaro bit your shoulder.

Playfully smacking his arm, you winced, “Ow!”

He kissed the area as if to soothe the pain, “Sorry, princess, you just taste so good.”

“Yeah right, you smooth piece of shit,” you said, taking the joint in your lips again.

Suna removed himself from you, taking the blunt from your fingers and taking a hit himself. “C’mon, babe, save some for me.”

You cupped his cheek with one hand, the other exploring his chest, while you smooched his cheek and nuzzled your face into his neck, “As if you can’t roll one for yourself,” you purred.

Taking the last few inhales, he placed the remainder of the joint in the ashtray that sat in the cupholder. Rin hooked his index finger under your chin and pressed a quick kiss to your nose, “Where’s the fun in that?” He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, your arms snaking around his waist, and rested his chin on your head. “Y’know, I’m really gonna miss moments like these.”

You sighed against his chest, “You’re talking like we’re splitting up.”

“Well we don’t really have a choice, do we? You’re gonna go study at some prestigious school in France, and I’m…” the strands of your hair flew askew as he exhaled above your head, “...staying here.”

You sat up, straddling his lap once again, bringing yourself eye level to Suna. “I’m coming back, you know that.” You caressed your thumb on his cheek and felt your chest ache when he leaned into your touch, like he was desperate for you to stay. “So don’t talk like we’re never going to see each other again.”

He raised his hand to hold yours and kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly. “Yeah, we’re going to see each other again, but we’re not going to be the same again.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You racked your brain for rebuttals, yet nothing came to mind. All you knew was that you couldn’t lie to him—you didn’t have the heart to. What good would come of lying to the person you loved?

“C’mon, princess, say something. Don’t...don’t let me overthink like this. My head,” you heard him sniffle against your ear. “I keep thinking about all these things—about the future, and, baby, I just can’t see one without you.”

He trembled beneath you, hoping that you didn’t have to see him cry. You didn’t want to look up at him either, afraid that if you let go, you’d never feel his warmth again.

“Rin, please...please don’t say that.” You clutched onto the fabric of his shirt tighter, indulging in the scent of his fabric softener. “You’re making it hard for me to say goodbye,” you pleaded.

He was no better, begging with every word that fell from his lips. “Would it be so selfish of me to want you to stay?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves before taking on the courage to look at his face. His eyes were stained red, bloodshot from the tears that poured. He bit his lip as a last ditch attempt to stop it from quivering—he didn’t want you to see him so...weak.

“Baby…” you whispered, hands finding their way to his face, rubbing away the wetness on his skin. You lowered your head and pressed your foreheads together. Letting out a dry laugh, your breath brushed against the tip of his nose. “Why are you making this so hard for me?”

The rest of the night was a blur of grasps and heartbroken refusals to say farewell.

The silence of the drive was anything but peaceful. Both of you dreaded the moment the rumble of the engine would cease—both of you dreaded the moment you’d have to say your final goodbye. The air was dense, with a sort of sadness that was too heavy to feel all at once. Almost like if one of you had spoken, you’d break down all together. It seemed as if the evening was all jumbled together—the car ride was reminiscent of a limbo you were both stuck in, like the minutes were slowed and rushed at the same time.

Like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. As you watched the image of your home enlarge from the distance, your heart sank to your feet. The moment was inevitable, and yet you hoped it would never come.

The minivan came to a stop in the exact same place it was when he had picked you up. Suna remained unmoving in his seat, hesitant to turn the keys in the ignition to the off position. Once the car stilled, your eyes glanced at the man to your right, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. Your hand wandered down to the lock of your seatbelt, wincing with your eyelids shut at the sound of the click—an action that forced streams to fall down your cheeks. The thick fabric whipped to your side, freeing you from the atmosphere that suffocated you, but you lingered in your spot. There was a ringing in your ears, and you were sure that Rintaro could hear it too. The smooth plastic of the door handle which you reluctantly hooked your fingers around burned against your skin. Everything felt sedated. Reality felt altered. Nothing felt real. The second you tore your eyes away from in front of you, Suna unbuckled his seatbelt and threw it to the side. He grabbed a hold on your wrist, using his other hand to bring your face to his.

Your bodies pressed together, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, clothes, and anything you could grab onto to bring the other closer. Your hearts raced, lips embracing in a delicate hold, breaths leaving your mouths in sync. It was no longer static. Everything felt warm. Everything felt happy. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt okay.

One last time, you broke free, instantly feeling colder. Your foreheads rested against each other, unwilling to leave the car and unwilling to let the other go.

You kissed his nose, feeling him smile under your touch. “Whatever happens during these next few years, promise me we’ll find each other again,” you whispered in the dark.

He kissed your cheek, releasing you from his grip and rubbing your shoulder, a gesture that let you know he was ready to say goodbye. “I’ll find you in every lifetime, this one is no different.”

You slowly pulled the door handle and hopped out, leaning over your seat to give him one last kiss. “Don’t forget about me,” you giggled as you shut the car behind you and rushed to make it back to your room before sunrise.

“I love you,” Suna whispered as he watched you fade from view.

reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

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oddsnendsfanfics · 3 years

Text

Unraveling in the Sheets

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, NSFW

Rating: M

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Spoiler Alert, there is smut. Be warned. It's there.

Also, I am no longer doing tags on posts. Since my list exceeds the tag limit. Please feel free to join the chat in place of the tag list.

Henry Cavill Master List

“How did you do it though?” Gliding the car into a free parking space, Henry glanced at Nell in the passenger's seat.

“How did I do what?” Eyeing him curiously, she tried to hide her gloating smile. She could be a terrible winner, even if she wasn't the winner, she had came ahead of Henry.

“You know what I mean, Nelly.”

He looked so silly, his new mustache curling when he laughed or smiled. Nell had to admit, if any man could wear the 'stache Henry did it well.

“Oh, you mean how did I suddenly leave your ass behind and finish nearly 50 positions ahead?” She laughed, crinkling her nose. “I told you, I've been working hard for this. Besides, you're too big. You move slower than I do. It's that simple. Maybe next year, you will finish ahead of me.”

“You're impossible.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Henry hurried to get out of the car and around to the other side, before Nell could open her own door. Nearly there, he frowned when she opened the door, stepping out of the Aston Martin. “You were supposed to let me open that.”

“I am supposed to do a lot of things that I do not.” Nell grabbed her hand bag. “I'll let you open the door, next time. You big dork.”

Henry was always the gentleman, even when Nell would rather rip his eyes out than speak to him in a civil manner. Not that she ever felt the former much, but on the rare occasion. Sometimes that's how things went for ex-lovers. The mid May air was growing cool, leaving a few goosebumps on Nell's exposed arms. She had expected to be back before now, which is why she'd left her sweater in the hotel.

“Well, happy late birthday. It was nice having dinner with your family. I've missed them.”

“They've missed you, too. I could tell that dad was happy you came along. He hasn't talked that much during a dinner since the last time you came over.” Henry smiled fondly. "I'm glad that you came, Nelly." Hands in his pockets, Henry sauntered along beside Nell. Approaching the main entrance, he held the door allowing her to enter.

When he'd invited her for the weekend, he wasn't confident that she would come. Wrapped up in work, Nell didn't take too much time away from Dublin these days.

"It was a nice break from work." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nell bit her bottom lip. "I know that you are busy, but do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"I always have time to talk with you." Scanning the hotel lobby, Henry tried to find a spot for them to sit and chat privately. "Should we have a seat at the bar?"

"We could, but I would really like to change. Do you mind coming up with me? We can just talk in the room. It's probably more comfortable anyway."

"Is this about the wild boy?"

"Isn't it always?"

Laughing, Henry pushed the call button for the elevator. Their son was truly something else. One day he would surely take over the world; Henry could see that coming from the day he was born. To say Ivan was Henry's pride and joy would be a massive understatement. He lived for their son. This weekend having Ivan, and Nell, in Jersey had been fantastic. A short glimpse of what life could have been. The ding of the elevator brought Henry back from his brief fantasy.

He and Nell had split up several years ago, there wasn't much chance she would feel the same as he did. Lost in the thoughts of happy little family. Allowing Nell to step onto the elevator first, Henry stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him.

“So, Ivan has been doing well in school?” He may as well get this under way.

“Define doing well,” Nell snickered. “I get a call nearly every day from his teacher. The woman is impossible, but knowing our son, he isn't making it easy for her.”

“I was like that in school. Right up until the day I left.” Henry shrugged. The elevator gently bumping to a stop, he stepped forward to hold the door for Nell.

Muttering a thank you, Nell dug for her key card, leading the way down the hall. She loved this hotel, it was the only one she stayed in, if she could help it, while visiting the Island. A great view of the water on one side, the other dazzling with a fantastic look out into the city. The first time she'd ever been to Jersey, she had stayed in the hotel and fell in love with the charm. There were days when that felt like a life time ago.

Opening the door, Nell paused to allow Henry in. “Have a seat. Anywhere you'd like. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'm going to change.”

The hotel room was anything but a mess, minus the few sketch books that Nell had dropped on the bed. Always working. Henry took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, casually glancing at the colour coded notes and designs that Nell had in one of the open sketch books. Costumes. A few notes detailed leather armor and Viking era clothing. She'd done well for herself, since he'd met her. The same shy costume apprentice hiding out on set of The Tudors, was now helping drive forward the details of Vikings.

In the bathroom, Nell pulled off her dress. The fabric had became clingy after a while and she needed to be more relaxed. Running shorts and a tshirt would do the trick. Sighing at her reflection, she bit her bottom lip glancing down at her top. The worn coral Nike tshirt was her favourite, it was showing the love and wear in a few spots. Perhaps she should have picked something less frumpy? She was a busy, single mom she didn't have to look the part. Ah fuck, who cared. Henry certainly wouldn't.

He was here to discuss their son, not flirt with her until she gave in to that smile. Or got lost in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes – the left with the flecks of brown. His charm alone was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. Damn it, she needed to get over it. He had moved on. She needed to do the same.

Blowing out a breath, Nell reached for the door, pausing when she heard Henry talking. His tone told her that he was speaking to Ivan. Quietly slipping out of the bathroom, she smiled.

“Hold on, just a sec.” He pushed the screen of his phone, allowing the speaker to connect. “Alright, wild boy. Say goodnight to your mum.”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan's voice filled the room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ivan. Are you being a good boy?”

“Uh huh. I love you. Good night.”

“Good night, wild boy. I love you.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night, I love you. I'm going to be back soon, you go to bed and I will see you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Oh, dad, can Kal sleep in my room tonight?” Ivan was fond of the large black and white American Akita. Henry laughed.

“Of course he can. You and Kal go to bed, now.”

“Okay, bye.” A little too quickly, Ivan hung up the phone. Henry laughed at the eagerness, he would talk to his mother when he got back to the house. Making sure that Ivan and his dog had gone to bed as they were told, with no fuss.

"Can you believe he is growing this fast? My god where has that time gone?" Henry rubbed his hands against his face. His mustache and subtle stubble scratching his palms.

"Time is a cruel mistress." Rubbing her hands on her shorts, Nell stood. "Drink? I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker."

"Of course you do." Smirking, Henry shifted on the side of the bed. “I had a look at some of these designs, by the way. They're magnificent. My god, Nell, you are so talented.”

“You're saying that to be nice,”

Shaking his head, Henry accepted the glass, resting it on his knee. “No, I am saying it because its true. You are one of the most talented costumers that I had ever met. Are you enjoying the job?”

“I love it.” Nell smiled, leaning against the large wooden desk in the corner. “The work is great, the people are amazing, and Ivan is really enjoying it. I'm glad we went.”

“Good, that's good. He talks about it, a lot. He really seems to love being there. I'm glad. Once things settle, I am going to try and come visit. I kind of miss it, Dublin.”

“You should.” She smiled fighting the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. Henry was always busy. He'd make it to Dublin, when Hell froze over. “So, how is work coming on this new character.”

“I can't say much, but I can say that I will be happy when I can shave.” He rubbed the mustache expertly. “It's not as bad as some of the beards that I've had to grow, but it's not my favourite look.”

“You look good with a beard. I know you hate them, but you do.”

Leaning forward to set his glass on the bedside table, Henry licked the whiskey off of his lips. “I'm glad to have that compliment.”

“Sure.” Nell nodded, tipping her glass to finish the drink. “Another?”

“Uh, I'm good.” Henry motioned to his glass. Rubbing his hands across his jeans, he furrowed his brow. “I've been thinking, since I am fairly busy the next few months, what if I keep Ivan for a few extra days? Once you leave, I will take him back to London with me, until I have to go.”

Shifting on the bed, her face warm from the second glass of whiskey, Nell sniffled and cleared her throat. “What about school?”

“What about it? He isn't going to miss much, is he? They're nearly finished up and I don't know how long it will be, until I see him. Possibly not until Christmas.”

All he wanted was to spend a little time with his son, was that so hard? His next move would have to be calculated, Nell had been known to stat arguments over less. If Henry wanted to avoid a shouting match, he would have to go about this carefully. Reaching for his glass, he downed the remaining contents in one large gulp. Sighing.

“I want to hang out with him a little. It wouldn't be more than three days extra. Then you get some time alone, as well. Nell, I know that you need a bit of a break. You work so hard and take care of Ivan, please.”

“If you want to, then I suppose I can't really say no. What kind of mother would I be, if I didn't let you see him?”

“Don't say things like that, please.” Henry reached out, his hand taking hers. Gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You are a wonderful mum. You know that.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I could do better. I really do.” Nell shrugged, allowing Henry to continue holding her hand.

“All parents feel that way, I am sure. I know that I feel like that, all the time. I guess it's natural, always wanting to do better, to be better, for our children.”

There he went again. There were times when Nell could not stand to be near him, other times she wanted to be as close as possible. Damn it. Watching him talk about Ivan and the few extras days they would be together, Henry's eyes lit up. His smile broad and the enthusiasm in his voice was one that dictated proud father. Nell nodded, only because she felt it was appropriate to the conversation.

Henry continued to chatter about how he wanted to take Ivan to a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, in London. Leave it to the father and son, finding a day at the museum to be high on the list of fun. Nell sighed, continuing to half listen, half gaze at Henry in awe. One thing she loved – well love could be a strong word – adored? Enjoyed? About Henry was how much he loved Ivan.

Mid sentence about some Sir David Attenborough documentary that he'd watched with Ivan; Nell couldn't help it any longer. Leaning in, without warning, she grabbed Henry's face turning it to her and kissing him. Lips connecting, she stopped and jumped back as if hit by an electric shock.

Clearing his throat, Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but not pulling back. “I didn't know that the National Geographic was that exciting.”

“I'm sorry.” Hiding her face in her hands, Nell shook her head. Oh that had been a mistake. She had absolutely no right. None. Henry was crazy, if he didn't get up right now and walk out. If he was angry, then she deserved that.

Blushing, Nell shook her head. “Henry, I shouldn't have.”

“I'm certainly not going to complain.” He shrugged, leaning in his arm sliding around her shoulder. Nell glanced up, getting the nerves to look at him. Oh she had fucked up. “Next time, I would like some warning though.”

“Warning? Next time?”

“Hmm, yes. Kind of like this, close your eyes.” Henry instructed pulling her closer and kissing her. Nell sighed her body melting against him. She loved the way his lips felt on hers. Soft, with a slight force.

Straddling his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, Nell's fingers laced together. Her lips leaving his, tracing along his jaw, nearing the sweet spot below his ear. A slight nip and he was an unraveling mess. Henry nuzzled his face into her hair, she smelled amazing. Comforting and warm. A groan erupted from deep in his throat, as predicted she had gone straight for that spot.

“Nell, Nell,” Henry cleared his throat, holding her at arm's length, “Janelle, stop.” Looking for any sort of sign that she truly felt that this wasn't a good idea, he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if we continue, I won't stop until...”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, “I don't want you to stop. I don't want to stop. Oh god, Henry. Please.”

“I need to know that you truly, absolutely want to do this.”

“If you don't stop talking and bend me over, I am going to kick you out and do this myself. Please, stop talking. If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have started it.”

A deep rumbling laugh followed, Henry rolled his eyes. God, she was something else. Who was he to deny a gorgeous woman what she wanted? Would this come back to haunt him? Probably. Did he care? Not much. Come morning they would once again go their separate ways, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, he could pretend that he had everything he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

Pulling her to him, Henry kissed her hard. Nell moaned, the force of the kiss was nearly dizzying. Arms around his neck, she rubbed her body against his, trying to grasp the friction that was created when she started to grind herself against his thighs.

“Henry,”

“Hold on, you need patience.” He brushed a bit of hair out of her face, “all in good time.”

Nell squealed when he stood, her legs desperately scrambling to hold onto him. In a futile attempt she huffed, when he let her go, standing in front of him pouting. Unbuttoning his shirt, Henry smirked giving her a heated stare. “Well, are you going to get on the bed or make me do all the work? Shorts off.”

Sliding the mesh shorts down her ass and along her legs, Nell made a bit of a show letting them pool at her feet. Stepping out, as slowly as possible, while lifting the old tshirt from her body. Allowing it to go where it would, as she dropped it. Sitting back on the bed, she could feel her heart in her throat and her stomach where her heart should be.

“Lie back.” Henry instructed, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Arms around her thighs, guiding her to him, he studied her for a moment. She was trembling as his fingers slid across her thighs, positioning her in just the right way.

“Oh god, Hen-Henry.” Nell's mouth was suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. His hot breath between her legs was tormenting her, in unimaginable ways. In anticipation she bucked her hips forward, trying to clench her thighs. Holding her knees with his shoulders, Henry chuckled.

“Eager.”

“Please.”

“You are...” He lingered, kissing the inside of her leg. “Gorgeous. Look at you.” He brushed his thumb against her. Nell whimpered trying to push further. “Hold on, hold on.”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Because I want to enjoy the view, for a moment.” He shrugged, her legs lifting gently. A hand on her lower abdomen, as if holding her in place, he used the other to gently tease and trace along her calf. Without warning, his lips attached to the most sensitive part of her body with his mustache adding an extra sensation, Nell bucked her hips hard, shoving his face further between her thighs.

Nell's head was swimming, it had been a while since she'd felt this good from such an act. Sure, she'd had the odd date here and there, semi-serious relationships, but nobody could do this the way Henry could. He was a fucking magician, she was certain of it. Humming against her mound, Henry couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes, when she began to squirm and wiggle against his face. She was desperate and he was going to prolong this as much as he could.

Sucking her clit, his tongue generously lapping at her, he thoroughly enjoyed the show. Pushing his head as far down as she could, Nell was nearly in tears each time he leaned in, his mustache tickling in just the right way. Oh god, she gasped trying hard to find release. Henry was cunning, backing off at the right moments.

“Henry,” She whined, threading her fingers through his hair. “Don't tease me, I really need you to finish.”

“Stop being so impatient.” He was teasingly stern. Pushing her hands away, he locked his fingers with hers, holding them at her side. Lifting his head, he smirked, kissing up her body ending with another dizzying kiss. Nell sucked on his tongue, freeing her hands from his, she tugged him closer, pulling at fistfuls of hair.

Cleaning herself from his tongue and lips, she sighed. “I'm going to need more than that.”

“You're sure?” Henry paused, holding his weight on his forearms, resting above her. His jeans still on, he could feel the strain against the denim.

“Jeans, off.” She demanded, sitting up to watch. Shivering against the slight chill, her breasts on display giving him the perfect view of her erect nipples. Nell blushed under his gaze. She was not the tight, toned, and perky body she once was. She wasn't out of shape, by any means, but compared to Henry...

“You are gorgeous.” Henry complimented, his jeans on the floor, boxers being pushed down to join them. Stepping out of his pants, he stood at the side of the bed, in all his glory.

Nell licked her lips, reaching out to take him in her hand. Hissing under her touch, Henry involuntarily bucked his hips forward into her hand. Rubbing the head, Nell intently watched Henry while she leaned in taking him fully in her mouth.

“Fuck, Nelly.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, sliding her head back along his length. Hand wrapped around him, stroking in place of her mouth. Bobbing her head back down, she swirled her tongue around the base. He nearly choked her the first time she'd ever gone down on him. Oh how long ago that felt.

Dragging her tongue against his length, she felt her core tighten, with each moan Henry gave. His slight salty taste mixed with the aftertaste of the Johnnie Walker, Nell inhaled deeply through her nose, hollowing her cheeks around him. Gripping the back of her head, Henry tried to not force her too hard, as he began to guide her movement.

Happy to go along with what he needed to feel good, Nell allowed him control over her guidance. Her finger nails grazing the back of his thighs, she mentally checked the small victory when he threw his hips forward at the sensation of her wrapped around him and her nails on his skin.

“Good girl,” Henry mumbled, his head lulling back, his chest rising rapidly. “Keep it up, just like that. Oh shit,”

Nell's chest swelled a little, she could still make him feel good, even after all of this time apart. That was not something she would take lightly, even if this shouldn't be happening. Oh fuck, who cared? They were two consenting adults. Henry's legs quivered, his hands unsteady stroking the back of her head.

“Nell,”

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. His face soft and his jaw slack, she could feel him tightening. The perfect time to stop her actions. “Not yet,” She smirked, wiping her hand across her chin, drool gone. “Fair is fair.”

“Jesus,” Henry grumbled. He had been so fucking close, the knot in the pit of his stomach clenched Slowing his breathing, he took a moment to think of anything else. Laundry? Running? How much longer until he had to renew his passport?

“Henry?”

“Yeah?” He snapped his head to look at Nell.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or...” She shrugged, a devious smirk on her face. Laying back on the bed, she curled her finger beckoning him to her.

“You're still sure about this?” Henry asked. His eyes on her, waiting to see if she had any hint of doubt or hesitation.

“I don't have a condom, but I'm clean. It's not like I'm getting pregnant, so....” If she were to get pregnant, there was going to be on hell of a hefty lawsuit against that surgeon.

“You're sure? I know that I'm...but I don't have.”

“if you don't want to, then I understand.”

“I do, though, but...”

Nell shook her head. “No buts. If you want me, then I'm yours.”

“Fuck, you're making this hard.”

Giggling, Nell glance down. “I think we're beyond things being hard.”

His body betraying him, Henry cleared his throat, she certainly had a point. Fuck it. What did they have to lose? Unless this, some how, came back to bite them. No, no he had to stop that. Give in, enjoy what was happening. It had been too long since he'd been able to watch her in such bliss. Bliss that he was responsible for.

“You're sure?”

Nell nodded siting up, opening her arms, “Come here.”

On the edge of the bed, Henry sighed, his large frame leaning into her. Nell held him for a moment, stroking his hair, the feel of his warmth against her sent shivers through her spine. Pushing him back on the bed, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for the go ahead. Henry gave her a slight nod, adjusting himself on the bed to get comfortable. Straddling his hips, Nell lifted herself to slowly take him.

Sheathing him inch by inch, Nell groaned at the fullness. This was her favourite part, taking him to the end, feeling him stretch her. Rocking her hips forward, she countered the motion sliding them back in the same tantalizing pace. Henry held her hips, pushing his up to meet her. Nell squeaked and giggled. She loved the way he hit all the right spots.

“You can touch me, don't be shy.” Nell winked, lifting her arms and crossing them above her head, allowing him a full view of her breasts. “Go on.” She encouraged.

His large hands cupping her breasts, Henry softly rolled her hardening nipples between his fingers, giving on a slight flick when she moved herself up on his length. Close to letting him slide out, she moved back down, her ass grinding against him.

The way her body moved against his was mesmerizing. Massaging her supple skin, from her breasts down her sides, one hand settling on her ass and the other on her hip. Henry loved the shape, even if she had changed a little since having Ivan. God she was stunning.

Hastening her pace, Nell rocked back and forth, up and down. Henry closed his eyes feeling every bit of movement, each clench. Taking in the sounds of her breathing, mixed with his, her small moans not going unnoticed.

“Henry,” She whispered, biting her bottom lip, leaning forward to touch her lips against his. “Please,”

Without having to be asked twice, he moved swiftly, turning them over to pin her beneath him. Nell sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the pull of her muscles caused another shiver. Her head now against the pillow, she reached, tracing the lines of his face with her fingertip.

“I don't know that I can be as slow as you were.” Henry nipped her finger. Holding back on his desire to pound her into the bed.

“Then don't.” Nell batted her eye lashes at him.

Somehow that was all he needed, that tiny bit of permission. Picking up the pace, Henry grunted. Nell moaned drawing her knees upward, allowing him an even better vantage to this position. As if the pent up emotions from the last few years, hours, minutes had been released the couple were lost in the sensation of skin on skin. The feeling of sparks and electricity coursing through them. Connecting them.

“Fuck, Janelle.” Henry hissed, his arm locked into position on either side of her head, keeping him from tumbling on top of her.

“Henry,” She squealed splaying her hands against his chest, tugging at the soft hairs. “Oh god. Please, don't stop. My god, oh fuck.”

“You are fucking amazing. Fuck, look at you.” Kissing her roughly, he sighed, steadying his pace. His hips slapping hers, Nell shook slightly her soft sobs of pleasure were enough to send him to an end.

Shaking with pleasure, Nell gasped trying to bring herself down from the high. Henry moaned, his head back and chest heaving. It had been a while since he had felt that good. Nell laid with her legs hooked around his thighs, no desire to move. Collapsing with his head on her chest, Henry allowed his body to rest. Sweaty and sticky, they laid tangled together. Neither one wanting to break the feeling.

Dosing in and out, Nell was the first to move. Her body growing heavy with Henry still on top of her. She needed to move, before seizing up. Pushing his head to the side, she giggled and kissed the tip of her nose when he lazily looked up.

“I need to pee,”

“Hmph.” Henry nodded, slowly rolling over. Allowing her to escape. Laying flat on the bed, while she scurried off to the bathroom, Henry pushed himself up off of the bed. He should be getting back to his parents, back to Ivan.

All thoughts of moving were squashed, when Nell came back, climbing in beside him. Her clothes still on the floor. Her body was comforting against his. “Hi,” she whispered, sliding in under his arm.

“Nell?” Henry laid with his arm around her shoulder.

“Huh?” Nell grunted, her face buried in his chest.

“I should head back.”

“If you want to. You can stay, I don't mind.” Nell yawned. Her eyes closing.

“Okay, but only for a little while.” Henry agreed, closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he would get up, shower, and head back.

With a start, Henry woke, a loud banging noise rattling him. Looking around the dark room, he squinted to find the source of the noise. Hearing someone whispering at a distance, Henry laid in bed, listening. Against him, Nell stirred, but didn't wake. Someone in the hall was talking, no doubt they had been the source of the banging. He had fell asleep, Nell wrapped against him.

Looking at his watch, Henry frowned. 4am. If he left right now, he could be back before anybody woke. If he left now, he risked Kal barking and waking the house. If he waited, he would risk walking in and having to explain himself to one or more person. Of course he could tell them that he'd ran into some old friends, had some drinks and stayed on a sofa somewhere. Too drunk to drive.

Shifting in bed, Nell sighed, her arm around his waist she snuggled in closer. She was content, who was Henry to try and disturb her sleep? He would wait an hour or two, before he made his departure. So what if he waltzed in, being faced by one of his brothers, or even his mother. He was an adult, if he wanted to stay out all night enjoying the company of a fantastic woman, then he would do just that.

Kissing the top of Nell's head, Henry smiled, sinking down further into the covers, closing his eyes.

Tag List Chat

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #oddsnendshenryfics

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starlightrows · 4 years

Text

The Lady of The House

Pairing: Boba Fett x fem reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings and Tags: swearing, not a lot of Boba reader interaction, mostly reader just asserting her position as queen

Summary: Two guards, my original characters Tems and Rhys, have been tasked with informing crime boss Boba of an intrusion... but there’s one problem. It’s the middle of the night and he’s currently with his wife sleeping.

AN: Happy Monday! This blog is getting a bouns fic today!

“I don’t wanna go in there Rhys...” Tems said shakily.

“The boss said he had to be informed immediately if someone was caught trying to break in to the palace, if the alarm on his ship ever tripped, or if the Mand’alor hailed him.... and all three happened over the course of 20 minutes. We have to tell him Tems!” Rhys waved off his patrol partners fretting and made for the handle on the large ornate door leading to Boba Fett’s private chambers “he will feed us to the rankor if we don’t go in there”

“Look, you’ve only worked here for three lunar cycles. You ever wonder why there was a job open?” Tems grabbed his arm, yanking him back. The Rhys narrowed his eyes, and gave a shake of his head. “You’re all happy to point out the rules the boss has about being informed. But what is the other, number one fucking rule he has?”

The realization struck him and his eyes went wide, he gave a silent “ohhh”

Boba Fett’s number one rule, mostly for his business partners, but also his staff: Do not disturb the lady of the house. Boba Fett’s wife.

An unassuming woman, she was kind and gentle, slightly out of place among dangerous and somewhat violent bounty hunters and crime families that frequented the upper halls. She spent most of her days working on fixing the lower levels of the run down palace. She kept to herself, with the notable exceptions of her husband and his loyal bodyguard, Fennec Shand. The rule seemed to be, if she spoke to you, answer respectfully and do as she asks. But if you bother her, get in her way, or insult her... there would be hell to pay.

“W-what happened to the last guy?” Rhys shifted nervously on his feet. He honestly hadn’t considered why there was a position available when he accepted the job.

“He barred the lady from entering the throne room when the boss had guests. He didn’t know the guests were there by her request, but that doesn’t make him any less dead right now” Tems told him, looking uncomfortable at the memory.

“Well we just won’t wake up the lady then” Rhys said “we’ll be really quiet. We’ll only wake up the boss, alright?”

Tems still wasn’t convinced “Do we both have to go in there?”

“You’re a fuckin’ coward,” Rhys threw up his hands in exasperation “every second we wait to go in there, the more angry he’ll be that we waited. I’m going in there, you can stand out here like a little bitch if you want to,”

Tems was tempted to throw a punch, this guy had no idea just how dangerous Boba Fett really is, or how scary he could be right after waking up. Nonetheless, he followed as his partner made for the door again.

The heavy door swung open silently, surprising given how massive it was. The room was dark, lit dimly by the silvery light of the moon coming through the small window high up on the wall. Against the far wall, was an enormous bed where both guards could see their employer sleeping soundly with his wife tucked securely to his bare chest.

Tems wanted to die. Every step he took deeper into these chambers felt like a step closer to a painful demise. While Rhys was excited, he had never seen any of the residential chambers of the palace. And this one was huge.

Rhys creeped up to Boba’s side of the bed, while Tems stood awkwardly by the entrance to the chambers. As Rhys approached, reaching out to shake the bosses shoulder, Tems seriously considered making a run for it. Rhys made contact, giving the large scarred shoulder a few good shakes.

“Sir?” Rhys attempted to whisper. Boba made no movement towards wakefulness, he just continued softly snoring.

Your eyes flew open and a fearful gasp left your body. You backed up, trying to put distance between yourself and the supposed intruder.

“Oh my god. No no no no. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry ma’am,” Rhys backed away, hands raised. Tems practically blacked out but stayed frozen in place.

I’m gonna fuckin die, and it’s all that idiots fault he thought

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and you recognized the young guard. You drew the covers up to cover yourself, you felt exposed in your thin nightgown.

“What are you doing here? These are private rooms” you whispered harshly

“I-I- I have orders,” Rhys stammered, knees knocking together in fear “To-to get the boss if” Rhys lost his voice. He could not seem to get the words to come out of his mouth

“Get out,” you whisper “Go back out there and do not move. I will be there shortly,”

Your tone was authoritative and stern, leaving no room for questioning. Rhys practically sprinted out of the room, dragging a paralyzed Tems with him. The door slammed shut behind them, making them both cringe.

Tems doubled over, placing his hands on his knees and heaving with labored breath. “Oh by the maker... we’re gonna die. We’re gonna fucking die. I’m gonna be sick. We’re gonna die”

Rhys was pacing back and forth, hands gripping and pulling his own hair. “Shit shit shit shit shit.... you were right. We’re gonna die,”

The large door swung open once more, and shut again firmly. Both men snapped their heads towards the direction of the sound of the door closing, awaiting the blaster blot that would surely end their lives. But it didn’t not come. Instead, there you stood, in a long robe tired securely about your waist, arms crossed over your chest.

“Alright, what’s all this about then?” You asked tiredly. Neither man spoke a word, staring blankly at you. You grew annoyed, and tapped your foot impatiently.

“Oh for heavens sake!” You exclaimed “He sleeps like the dead when he’s had a glass of wine before bed. He won’t be coming out here to throw you in the rankor pit anytime soon, but if one of you doesn’t speak up I most certainly will,”

“The Mand’alor hailed for the boss,” Tems said quickly.

“And the alarm on the bosses ship tripped,” Rhys choked out

“And a scavenger was caught at the southern entrance trying to get in,” Tems added. You blinked at them in surprise.

“That’s a lot of information to take in,” you said “Okay gentleman, first things first, has the scavenger been dealt with?”

“Yes,” Rhys piped up

“Yes ma’am,” Tems avoided your gaze, staring meekly at his own two feet.

“Lovely, and the ship. What tripped the alarm?” You asked, feeling slightly less angry by being awoken. If anything you felt a little bad for these two.

“We’re not sure ma’am. The guards in the landing bay couldn’t find anything wrong with the ship, and couldn’t find any intruders,” Rhys said, taking Tems’ cue to use a respectful title when speaking to you

“So then it can wait until morning for a follow up,” you noted “and the Mand’alor? Did he give a particular reason why he was hailing my husband?”

“No ma’am, but he said it was important,” Tems supplied

“Hmm, Djarin is a bit of a drama queen. But if he isn’t hailing repeatedly, or flying here himself, then I’m sure it can also wait until morning,” you mused. Rhys and Tems were visibly shaking with anxiety.

“Well, if that’s all settled then I would love to back to bed. Goodnight gentleman,” you said turning to go.

“My lady, I’m sorry” Rhys blurted out. You turned back to look at him.

“For doing your job?” You asked

“For disturbing you. For breaking the bosses cardinal rule,” he said “I should have listened to my partner. I shouldn’t have gone into your private chambers,”

“Your job is to follow the orders you have been given. Protect this palace. And report when circumstances deem it necessary, no matter the time of day,” you stated evenly “you’ve done well. And your loyalty will not go unnoticed by my husband,”

“Please don’t tell him,” Tems said “please don’t tell him it was us,”

You cocked an eyebrow at him “I won’t if you truly do not want me to, but tell me why,”

“My lady if the boss knew we came into your chambers, disrupted your sleep...” Tems shook his head “please don’t tell him my lady, I beg you”

You heart softened, you forget sometimes how truly frightening your husband could be. And these men were genuinely afraid of his wrath. You nod gently. “You have my word,”

“Gentleman,” you nodded quietly, slipping back through the door.

The with door now shut, a heavy silence settled over the palace. Tems still felt violently ill, and Rhys was quite sure the boss would kick down the door any second despite the reassurances of his wife.

“Rhys?” Tems said

“Yeah?”

“I fucking hate you,”

#Boba Fett x reader #Boba Fett #the mandalorian #Boba scares his own staff #Fennec Shand #Reader is a cute little badass #Boba definitely sleeps like the dead if he's had more than one drink #Boba loves his wife #OC's #OC Tems #OC Rhys #Tems is a goody two shoes #Rhys is pretty but dumb

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topsytervy · 4 years

Text

S'mores ~ JJ Maybank

Im not gonna lie, had no idea where I was taking this cause it was a wip that I started in like November and then started up again and then I couldn't decide between S'mores or Gentleman for the title but I stuck with the original title. Also, I almost forgot that people actually use and like chocolate with their s'mores because I never use chocolate on mine.

Blurb: a craving for s'mores results in a late night trip to the gas station because Sarah Cameron apparently can't afford her own Hershey chocolate bar.

Word count: 1,821

Warnings: swearing, spelling/grammar errors, i think thats it

~~~~~

"God I want s'mores so bad." You groaned.

You were currently laying on the floor with your head on your boyfriend’s lap, the craving for a little snack eating at you. JJ smiled as he played with your hair, back against the couch as he basked in the moment.

"We can’t do a bonfire right now baby. I’m sorry." He told you, bending down to kiss your forehead.

He had a point. It was 1 AM and neither you nor JJ planned on staying up to make a fire just to have some smores. In fact, JJ was pretty sure you were about 5 minutes away from falling asleep as long as you had some food in your stomach.

Hell, he was almost there himself and he wasn't even laying down.

"Baby," you whispered, looking up at him.

"Hmm?" JJ smiled down at you.

"Do you have your lighter?"

"Always, sweetheart."

You raised one of your arms slightly, making grabby hands at the air, indicating you wanted the lighter.

"Awe. My little pyromaniac." JJ cooed as he reached into his pocket.

You rolled your eyes as JJ held his zippo lighter in his hand, reaching up to grab it but JJ pulled it away, holding it up out of reach.

"Uh-uh, baby. Rolling your eyes is rude. What makes you think I’m gonna give it to you now?" He smirked.

You sighed, reaching up and grabbing his chin, pulling him down towards you.

You pressed your lips onto JJs gently, staying there for a moment before gently pushing his face away. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. May I have the lighter now?" You asked as nicely as possible.

JJ leaned down and pecked your lips once more as he slipped the lighter into your hand, making sure you had a grip on it.

You sat up and made your way into a standing position before walking to the kitchen, grabbing a plate, a fork, marshmallows, and graham crackers with no luck of finding chocolate.

"JB take all the chocolate to Sarahs again?" JJ asked when he saw you were an ingredient short.

"Probably. As if she can’t buy her own." You replied, sitting back down and leaning against the couch next to JJ.

“Well, you can’t have s'mores without chocolate so,” JJ stood up and grabbed your hand, pulling you up as well, “let’s run down to that gas station that’s open 24 hours and get some. Yeah?”

You grinned. “Are you sure you want to, JJ?”

“Am I sure that I want to go on a late-night drive to the gas station with my girlfriend just to get chocolate so she can have a s’more before bed?” He tapped his chin with his index finger as if he was thinking before jabbing his fingers into your waist, causing you to jump slightly before letting out a small laugh. “Absolutely. Just to make sure you’re happy.”

You placed your hands on your cheeks and averted your gaze, a sheepish grin on your lips. “Stop. You’re making me blush.”

“C’mon, sugar. Let’s go.” JJ grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door.

“Slow down there J-bird. Shoes, remember?” You yanked him back, leaning down to toss his boots to him.

He sighed as he pulled them on and you slipped on your sandals.

“Can we go now?”

You nodded and he grabbed your hand once more, tossing you a hoodie before dragging you out of the chateau. You climbed into JJ’s truck and pulled on the hoodie he threw to you, breathing in his scent as you did.

JJ looked over to make sure you were buckled in and once he saw that you were, he pulled out of the driveway, heading down the road in the direction of the gas station.

JJs hand found it's place on your thigh and a tired smile fell on your lips.

You broke the silence after a few minutes. "You know, not many people would take me to go get something as small a chocolate just so I can have s'mores."

JJ smiled as he took his hand from your thigh and entwined it with your hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes never leaving the road. "That's because not many people are gentlemen like me."

You snorted before slapping your hand over your mouth, trying your best not to laugh. JJ looked at you with an offended look before turning his eyes back to the road. "I cannot believe you, Y/N." He dragged out, a playful tone lacing his voice so you knew he wasn't actually mad.

He pulled his hand away from yours and you whined, grabbing his hand. "JJ don't."

"No. Apparently, I am not a gentleman. I open the door for you, I give you my sweatshirt, I take you to a gas station at like 1:00 in the morning to get chocolate for s'mores. I…I just don't know what to say." JJ pulled his hand away, looking out his window for a dramatic second.

"JJ," You grabbed his wrist again and tugged it onto your lap, attempting to hold his hand but JJ just shrugged you off as he pulled into the parking lot of the gas station.

He put the truck in park and leaned against the door as he dug into his pocket.

"You're so dramatic." You shook your head with a tiny smile.

He gestured towards the door of the gas station as he pulled out his wallet and tossed it to you. "Go get your shit, baby. I'll wait here."

You leaned over and kissed his cheek as you opened your door before unbuckling and hopping out of the truck.

You looked back to see JJ watching you before disappearing into the building. You smiled at the cashier before going down the aisle and picking up a bar of chocolate before seeing the nutty bars. You grabbed a couple for JJ and looked up at the coolers where the energy drinks were. You walked over to the drinks as the door chimed, signaling someone had entered.

You scanned the energy drinks before reaching out to open the door but stopped when arms circled around your waist and a chin rested on your shoulder.

You jumped slightly. "Jesus, J." You breathed, placing a hand to your heart when you noticed it was your boyfriend. "I thought you were gonna wait in the car."

"I was but then I saw Barry pull up and there's no way I'm leaving you alone in any building with that douchebag." He murmured, kissing your temple.

You nodded before opening the cooler this time and grabbing a redbull for JJ before turning around in his arms. "Nutty bars and redbull for breakfast sound good?" You held them up and JJ grinned.

"For me?"

"For you, handsome."

"I'm flattered that you know me so well and help me have an unhealthy breakfast."

"Yeah well better than a beer for breakfast." You pecked his lips before pulling away from him and walking towards the cashier.

"Is it really though?" JJ raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

You shrugged, placing everything on the counter and the cashier began ringing it up. You saw Barry out of the corner of your eye and saw him smirk. You subconsciously shifted closer to JJ and focused on the price the guy was saying. You opened JJ's wallet to pay for it when Barry stepped in.

"I've got you princess. Put the money away." He drawled, pulling out his own wallet and paying the guy.

Your hand immediately went to JJ's wrist, knowing he was upset at the fact that Barry had paid for your shit and then called you princess. You handed JJ his wallet back and looked at his clenched jaw and fist. His eyes didn't leave Barry as he shoved his wallet into his pocket.

You thanked the cashier and Barry, who replied with 'anything for you, princess' with a smirk on his face, before grabbing the bag and dragging JJ out of there before he could start anything.

Once in the safety of the truck you grabbed JJs hand. "You good, baby?"

JJ took a deep breath before nodding. "Yeah, I'm good. At least I didn't leave with any less money right?" You nodded in response.

It was quiet the entire ride back to the chateau and you two walked inside, kicking off your shoes as JJ handed you his lighter yet again and you walked onto the kitchen.

You placed the marshmallow on the fork and opened JJ's lighter, holding the marshmallow over it and watching it toast. Sure, it took way longer than a campfire but it got the job done. You broke off a piece of chocolate and placed it on the graham cracker before adding the marshmallow.

Once you completed your task, you saw that JJ had pulled out the sleeper sofa and got it all made, laying down on it.

"Thank you for taking me to get chocolate baby." You sat next to him and immediately took a bite out of your treat, moaning at the taste. He didn't say anything, not even a sexual comment at the noise you made, and you sighed. "Alright, pretty boy. What's going on up there?" You tapped his forehead before taking another bite.

JJ didn't even hesitate or stutter through his question. "Would you leave me for Barry?"

You choked on your s'more. "God no. I'd date psycho Cameron before dating Barry." You answered, suddenly not hungry anymore. "Here, you can finish it since I'm now deeply scarred." JJ quietly took the treat from your hand and finished it off quickly, not even batting an eye.

You laid down next to him and curled into his side, upset that Barry had to kill JJ's mood. You knew the drug dealer did it just to get under your boyfriend's skin and he clearly succeeded. You pressed a kiss to JJ's shoulder before getting an idea.

"You know, that was very gentleman-like of you. Not causing a scene back there and not letting your anger get the best of you. You are officially the biggest gentleman on the island." You smirked, glancing up at the blonde to see if his mood would change.

He looked at you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A grin spread across his lips as he pulled you so you were half-laying on him. "What can I say, Y/N? You just bring out the gentleman in me."

You wrapped your arms around him and looked up at his face. "I'm glad baby. Does this mean I get a kiss cause of it?"

JJ smirked. "Baby, you can get a kiss whenever you want."

You smiled as he leaned down and you closed your eyes, his lips pressing against yours moments later and his hold tightening around you.

~~~~~

#jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj x reader #rudy obx

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purrincess-chat · 4 years

Text

A Hero’s Promise (Lucky Charm Zine)

This summer I was asked to pinch-hit for the @luckycharmzine and it was so much fun! Thank you to the mods for all of your hard work, and for letting me be apart of this experience! The theme was reveals, and seeing as they asked me in the middle of Ladrien June, ya girl just had to write some Ladrien (with a lil bit of Adrinette too because yall know me:P) Be sure you support the whole zine because it’s full of wonderfully talented people who created so much amazing content!

Summary: When Marinette finds herself in a dire situation with Adrien, she has no choice but to transform and save them both. Will Adrien keep her secret, or will Marinette's identity be revealed for good?

Read on AO3

“Okay, girl, no chickening out this time,” Alya said.

The class had taken a field trip that afternoon, and as was customary any time the opportunity presented itself, Alya and Marinette had a plan to get closer to Adrien. It was a simple plan really, one that even Marinette couldn’t mess up. All she had to do was stand beside him on the tour and talk. Easy.

“What if I mix up my words again?” Marinette whispered as they trailed several paces behind Adrien and Nino.

“Just keep going. Adrien has heard you stammer a million times by now. Take deep breaths. I’m gonna distract Nino.” Alya patted Marinette’s cheeks before striding over to link her arm through her boyfriend’s.

“Adrien, do you mind if I steal Nino for a while?” She asked, batting her eyelashes, and Marinette wished she had a fraction of her confidence.

“Not at all, Alya,” Adrien said, and Marinette saw her opening.

She could do this. The field trip was only a couple hours, and if she played her cards right, he’d fall in love with her then one day they’d get married, have three kids and a hamster named-

“Adrikins!” Chloe cooed, shoving Marinette out of the way and latching onto his arm. “Look at my new manicure!”

“Uh, that’s great, Chlo,” he said, sounding every bit as unenthused as he looked.

Marinette glanced at Alya who motioned for her to step in, but at her panicked expression, Alya slapped a palm to her forehead. She’d messed up and chickened out again. Maybe she should give up on love and move to the countryside and become a beekeeper. She could totally be a beekeeper.

“Hey, Chloe, I think I saw Sabrina refilling your water bottle from the tap,” Alya called, and Chloe stopped in her tracks.

“She what?” Chloe gasped. “If she thinks I’m going to drink tap water, she has got another thing coming. Sabrina!”

As Chloe stormed off, Alya nodded toward Adrien, and Marinette took a deep breath. She could do this. It was only two hours and the rest of their lives. All she needed to do was just talk-

A loud crash sounded several floors above them, shaking the building, and Marinette braced herself as the windows shattered. As people ran screaming, Mlle. Bustier barked orders from the front of the line, urging students to safety.

Marinette threw her head back with a sigh. Did Hawkmoth need to pick right now to create an akuma? Did he have a radar that went off every time she was about to make headway with Adrien? Nevertheless, duty called.

Using the chaos as cover, she slipped away from the group and ran the other way toward the stairwell, but as it turned out, the stairs weren’t as private as she originally thought. Throwing open the door, she crashed into another person, toppling them both to the floor, and as she sat up, she found herself staring into two green eyes wincing under a mop of blond hair.

“A-Adrien!” She jerked back several feet. “I’m so sorry! I was just, uh, trying to run away from the akuma, and-”

“It’s fine. You okay?” He asked, offering a hand to help her up. Always the gentleman even if she did completely knock him over and ram her head into his chin.

“Yeah, you?” She asked, and he rubbed his jaw with a shrug.

“I’ve had worse,” he said. “We should probably get out of here.”

“Uh, right. We should,” Marinette said, sparing a glance at her purse.

They jumped at the loud crash in the hall, but both stood frozen on the platform. Marinette needed to get away and transform, but she didn’t have a viable excuse to ditch Adrien. Luckily for her, he took the lead, tugging her down to the next level.

“We can hide out until the akuma passes then make our escape,” he said, ducking into the door one flight below.

“Uh, right,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her lack of enthusiasm.

She glanced around the room, searching the rows of cubicles for any means of escape. Never in her life did she think she’d be desperate to get away from Adrien, but now wasn’t the time for snuggling. Paris needed Ladybug, so her love life would have to wait.

Large windows spanned the far side of the room. Several had shattered from whatever attack the akuma launched, and hanging just on the other side was their ticket out of there.

“Look!” She tugged his sleeve. “A window washer’s scaffold. We can get down with that.”

“Whoa, good thinking, Marinette,” he said, rushing over and clearing away broken shards with his foot.

He climbed in first then offered her a hand, and she tried not to think about how much hand-holding this excursion had come with. She hit the button on the control panel, breath hitching as it started to lower. Freedom was only a few minutes away, that is, until a desk flew through a window and sliced the wires.

Adrien pulled her close as they dropped six stories before the scaffold jerked to a stop, and they flung apart, scrambling to right themselves as it swung. They were still ten stories up, but from the looks of the wires, they weren’t going to be for much longer.

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked, attempting to reach for her, but the scaffold shook and rocked.

“Don’t move!” She gasped, shifting her weight to counteract his. “We need to figure out a way down.”

“Maybe we should just wait for Ladybug,” Adrien suggested, and she glanced down at her purse with a wince.

“I don’t think we’ve got time,” she said, nodding at the fraying wire.

“What are we going to do?” He asked.

Marinette surveyed their surroundings, searching for anything to add time or get them out safely, but their options were slim. Any sudden movement would likely send them plummeting to the ground, and even if they did nothing, it wasn’t long before the scaffold gave out under their weight. There was only one way out, and she didn’t have another choice.

The scaffold groaned, and Marinette lunged at Adrien as the wire snapped, wrapping her arms around his waist as her suit materialized. Her yoyo hooked around a beam as the scaffold crashed to the ground. When she glanced back at Adrien, his eyes were wide which was only natural seeing as she’d inadvertently told him the most important secret in the world.

“You’re-”

“I know,” she said, lowering them to safety. “And you can’t tell anyone.”

“No, yeah, sure, but you’re really her?” He looked her up and down with awe.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “No one should know who I really am, but we didn’t have another choice. I’m trusting you, Adrien.”

His gaze found hers, a soft smile curling on his lips. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me. Promise.”

Her cheeks warmed, but there was no time for flirting. She palmed her yoyo, taking a few steps back. “Find somewhere safe to hide, okay?”

“Ladybug, wait!” He called as she tossed her yoyo up the street, and she turned over her shoulder. “Uh, I- come by my house later.”

“Okay,” she said, and when he nodded her on, she tugged the slack and shot off.

Chat Noir arrived on the scene the same time she did, and she hoped that her expression didn’t betray her guilt. There wasn’t another option. It was a fact she repeated to herself that day as they captured the akuma. As the city returned to normal. As she and Adrien exchanged curt nods on the bus, her secret passing unspoken between them.

She wasn’t sure how to feel knowing that someone knew her identity now, or that this particular someone knew her identity. Of course it was dangerous and wrong, and it never should have happened, but she did her best to see the positives. She finally had someone other than Tikki to tell about her double life. Even better that someone was the boy she was in love with which gave her more excuses to talk to him, and being a superhero didn’t exactly hurt her chances at impressing him either. A little late-night tour of the city from the rooftops and-

What was she thinking? This was bad! Adrien knew her identity. Should she go into hiding? Stop being Ladybug? Maybe she could make Chat Noir the new guardian and lose all of her memories. But what if the new Ladybug failed, and she had no memories to help stop Hawkmoth then it would be all her fault for exposing herself, and Paris would be doomed and-

“You okay, girl?” Alya snapped her out of a downward spiral, and she removed her nubs of fingernails from her mouth.

“Uh, yeah, just thinking about how I messed up with Adrien earlier,” she said, plastering on a smile.

“Aww, don’t worry. You’ll get him next time,” Alya said, draping an arm over her shoulder, and Marinette let out a breath.

“Yeah…”

***

Adrien’s window was open when she arrived later that night, her stomach churning as she hesitantly lowered into view. He paced the length of his couch, looking up when she appeared. Their eyes locked, both staring until Ladybug gestured to the floor.

“Can I come in?” She asked, and he nodded, moving around the couch to meet her.

Silence stretched between them, and Ladybug drummed her fingers on her yoyo, heart threatening to beat out of her chest as Adrien ran a hand over the back of his neck. What exactly did one say in this situation? Should she play it cool? Crack a joke? Beg him not to tell anyone? There wasn’t exactly a training course on what to do if you expose your secret identity.

“Um,” he finally managed, and her eyes flicked up to his. “Thank you for saving me earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” she said. “I mean, after all, it is my job.”

“Right, of course.” Adrien nodded, and the silence resumed. They both shifted, the tension between them stretching until the pressure snapped like a rubber band. Words spilled out like rapids, one stream overlapping the other.

“Listen, I know that we can’t undo what happened, and I know that you won’t tell anyone because you’re so trustworthy and cute-- wait did I say that out loud?” Ladybug said as Adrien rambled just as awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry that you had to tell me your identity like that, and I promise not to tell anyone. I’d never betray you like that ever, and I feel really bad that you had to be the one to reveal your identity,” Adrien said, their words mixing until they both clamped hands over their mouths.

Adrien pressed his lips together, determination glinting in his green eyes.

“I feel like it’s only fair that I tell you because it’s important to me that you know you can always trust me,” he said, taking a step forward. “You weren’t the only one who could have gotten us out of that situation. In another couple seconds, I would have transformed to save us both too.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he continued, “I’m sorry, m’lady. I guess now the cat’s out of the bag.”

“But- you-” A devilish smile curled on his lips, and as the two halves of his persona clicked together, Ladybug threw her arms around his neck. “It’s you.”

“I’m really sorry, bugaboo,” he murmured against her shoulder. “I should have acted sooner.”

“Even if you had, I would have known your identity. There was no way around it,” she said, pulling away. “We can’t change what happened, but we do need to talk about what to do now. Knowing our identities while Hawkmoth is still out there is dangerous. If one of us gets akumatized…”

“I know,” Adrien said, lowering his gaze. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting when I dreamed of finding out who you really are. I hoped that I’d single handedly take down Hawkmoth and impress you so much you’d fall in love with me.”

She smiled at that, brushing his nose with her finger. “What should we do? Should we stop being Ladybug and Chat Noir?”

“What? No!” His eyes widened in horror. “Look, there’s no one I trust more than you, and I think we make a pretty awesome team. Besides, who knows, maybe this is for the best. Maybe we’ll be stronger and more united. We can have each other’s backs all the time.”

When she didn’t seem convinced, he added, “We’re the cat and bug team, remember?” He said, and at her stern expression, he corrected, “Fine, the bug and cat team.”

“Okay,” she said, taking a breath. “I trust you, and we both agreed when we took on our Miraculouses to keep the city safe. We can’t turn back on that promise now.”

“You and me against the world?” Adrien said, holding out a fist.

Ladybug looked him up and down, a smile curling on her lips as she touched her fist to his.

“As always.”

#miraculous ladybug #ladrien #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #lucky charm zine #my writing #hiatus cat #reveal fic

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defenderrosetyler · 3 years

Text

A Prince and His Swan Chapter 3

The Time has come for chapter 3! Thank you to @flamencodiva for helping Beta as usual; There is a small warning in here is a character death, minor language, things like that. WC: 2465 There is also a companion series with this by flamencodiva as well, The Frog Prince which can be found HERE Storybrooke “Good Morning Samuel.” Mr. Gold says, not looking up from his work as the bell above the door chimed, signaling a person's entrance into his store. “Gold,” Sam says, letting out a huff of annoyance. If Gold was going to question him the same as Henry was about his mood? This wasn’t going to be a pleasant visit. Mr. Gold, being the wealthiest man in town, knew almost everything. Including the town gossip.

“Judging by the sound of your mood, it's safe to say you and Y/N had another argument this morning, didn't you?” He says, dark brown eyes looking at the younger Winchester brother. “How are your parents, by the way? Your relationship with Ruby?” “Ruby is none of your concern.” Sam snapped. “Oh, come now, is that any way to talk to a man who helped you and your family?” He says, giving his response in a calm, low tone .”I could go to Rowena and be in charge of all of those finances?” Mr. Gold took a step closer to Sam, giving him a slight glare, “After all, it was originally my contract you destroyed, Boy. But I can make sure to take it back and have you start at square one all over again.” Sam held up his hands, not wanting to argue with the man, “Is it just me, or was the clocktower moving this morning?”

This made Gold raise a confused brow at Sam. This was not the first time he’d heard this rumor, especially with the talk of the new person that had arrived in town, even staying at Granny’s B and B. The bell rang a second time that morning, sounding another patron entering the shop's entryway.

“Good Morning, gentleman.” Sheriff Graham says from the doorway, his hands in his pockets. Cleaning his throat, attempting to diffuse the tension between the two lawyers in the room.

“Good Morning, Graham.” “Sheriff.” Both men, who seemed to be in a standoff, greeted the Sheriff of Storybrooke. Refusing to turn to look at him. “Would you gentleman be interested in a job? I have a client who needs a lawyer, and you two are the only ones I know.”

“Well, Samuel, I think this makes for an interesting deal between us. Let's put that brain of yours to the test. I want to see how well you're able to keep our newest capture in her cell. If you can keep her behind bars, I’ll give you a raise in your salary. This would allow you to pay back Rowena a lot sooner and allow you to save up for any possible future you and Miss Ruby may have.” Sam gave him a look, waiting for the rebuttal of what would happen when he ends up losing. Which Sam had no intention of losing. He wanted to show up Gold. Stand up to him. “If I end up winning and our new friend is freed from her cage?” he says, a wicked look in his eye. “I’ll have you work double shifts here, receiving the same amount of pay. Possibly less, I haven’t fully decided yet.” Sam blinks as he lets his words echo in his ears. Thrusting out his hand for Gold to take, a smirk on his face, “Done.”

Enchanted Forest

“Samuel! We weren’t expecting to see you.” Charming says, greeting his friend from the throne room of his castle. It was full of guests coming to see the newly wedded couple. Then again, the arrival of a royal baby was cause for celebration. Sam smiled, hugging Charming.

“Congratulations on the new arrival on the way.” He smiled, glancing over to see Snow approaching them slowly. “Samuel,” Snow White greeted, making her way towards him to envelope him in a tight hug. “We heard about Odette. Have you found anything?” “I don’t think you’d believe me,” Sam sighed, looking at his friends. “I think I know of someone we can talk to that may be able to help you out,” Charming says, looking over at his wife, who also nods, having come to the same idea as her husband.

The Blue Fairy.

Sam watched as the Fairy approached, feeling wary of her. Dean had mentioned Amaya had been cursed by a fairy, but if Snow and Charming said that she was someone they trusted, he could trust her, couldn’t he?

“Nice to meet you,” Sam says, remembering his manners. Telling the Fairy about Odette and her curse.

“Oh, I know all about her curse, sweet one,” She says sweetly to him. This made Sam blink. Had he told her all of this for nothing? The Fairy let out a sigh. “As much as I’d like to offer my assistance, Rowena’s curse is pretty straightforward in how to break it.”

“Paid in blood,” Sam scoffed, “Charming, I’m not about to let anyone die because of someone I love!” He says, angry at the situation. He wasn’t about to lose Odette. This wasn’t going to end in bloodshed. The translation echoed in his ears, making Sam feel anxious. ‘never shall she be with the ones she loves, until true loves confession be spoken with blood.’ Feeling frustrated, Sam left the throne room, heading to the dungeons. Sam knew that Snow and Charming had Rumplestilskin in their dungeons. Maybe he could help him break the curse from Rowena or at least offer some sound advice. Then again, the man was dark and evil. “No...No, this is foolish,” Sam muttered under his breath. “Nothing is foolish, dearie,” Rumple said from his cell. “Especially if it keeps that little swan of yours safe.” “You don’t get to talk about Odette as if you know her!” Sam snapped, walking up to the bars of his cell. Face red with anger, chest rising and falling in rage. “Who am I kidding? You're just a waste of my time. Arguing with you isn't gonna help me save Odette.” Rumples' maniacal laugh echoed in the dungeons as Sam made his way back to his own castle. There was a ball to prepare for.

Storybrooke “What do you mean you backed out of the challenge?!” Ruby snapped as she looked over at her fiancé. She had been pacing in their living room ever since Sam returned later from home than usual. As Sam sat down, telling her the events of the afternoon, she was growing angrier and angrier. “I mean exactly that, Ruby!” Sam snapped, feeling frustrated and tired of her questioning his every move. His eyes filled with rage, glaring at her. “I don’t care about you anymore!” He says, voice rising as he grew angrier. “If you don’t like my work ethic, then there’s the door.” Ruby blinked, hearing Sam’s sudden outburst. He’d never raised his voice like this to her before. What was coming over him? Sam sighed as he ran a hand over his face. He had to clear his head. Maybe some coffee and sleep would be best for him. The following day, Ruby’s things were all packed, making it clear she was leaving. Sam headed over to the jail with a resounded sigh to say good morning to Graham and check in on things there. Emma Swan was causing quite the gossip around town. What was so special about her anyway? Seeing Emma released from the prison made Sam smile a little. Knowing if he’d kept his bet with Gold, he would have lost. As he made his way over to his office, a voice calling his name caught his attention. “Henry? Shouldn’t you be in school?” Sam scolds him gently, arms crossed against his chest. Henry looked slightly embarrassed. “I wanted to see if you could teach me horseback riding.” Sam raised his eyebrows at the request. “It's just-” “Henry, for the tenth time, I am not a prince in that special book of yours,” Sam says, cutting him off. “Please, Sam?” Henry practically begged. Sam held up his hands, not wanting to argue. Henry grinned excitedly. Then a thought came to his mind. “Henry, we don’t have any horses in town, do we?” Henry nodded, heading to a small ranch in town that Sam didn’t know was there. Then again, Sam didn’t travel much. Mostly, he was occupied with work from the law firm or doing work for Mr. Gold. When not spending time at his place of employment, Sam spends a lot of time at home or even sharing a meal with his brother at Granny’s diner. How else would he know that Singer Ranch even existed? “Henry! Nice to see you, kid!” An older man chuckled. “Hi, Mr. Singer!” Henry greeted, “Sam and I came to ride a horse!” “Mr. Singer,” Sam also greeted, holding out his hand for the elder stablemaster to hold. “Henry’s told me a lot about you, Sam. Let me guess, he thinks one of my horses are yours then?” Sam nodded, clearing his throat. Bobby led them to the stables, where there were three horses. One seemed to catch Sam’s eye. A black horse, the tallest of the three with a beautiful black mane. “That there is Onyx.” Bobby says, “Got him all saddled up for you.” As Sam approached the stable door, Onyx let out a loud knicker. Causing Sam to chuckle, brushing the horse’s nose. “See? He recognized you!” Henry cheered. This made Sam blink his eyes and back up a little. “Henry, I’ve never seen this horse in my life.” He says, trying to argue. “Bet you can ride him though.” Henry says, “Besides if you’re teaching me, you should show me what to do first, right?” This kid was not letting up. Apparently, Sam wasn’t the only one Henry had been pestering. Henry had been pressing Dean too. Making him show off archery lessons when he went to sub as a gym teacher for the day. Sam raised a brow at Henry after looking at Onyx. “If I can ride him properly around the arena, I’d like to know more about Y/N. Clearly, she dislikes me, and I’d like to know why. If I’m truly a prince, then maybe she’s a princess?” “If you can ride Onyx, Henry won’t be the only one impressed. Can’t seem to get anyone to calm him down to ride him. If anything, he tolerates me at best.” Bobby added under his breath. Stepping into the stall, Sam sighed, holding out his hand. The horse had to trust him first before he decided to jump onto his back and ride around the area Bobby had. “Easy boy,” Sam whispered softly. “I’m not gonna hurt you, see? You're not so bad, are you, Onyx," Sam said. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath, letting it out slowly. He's never been close to a horse before, and yet, this horse seems to trust him. The hose gave a soft snort, his nose pressing into Sam’s hand as a sign of acceptance. Moving slowly, Sam placed his foot in the stirrup, pushing off the ground, swinging his leg over, and securing himself on the saddle. Henry noticed Sam shaking his head. Sam still felt Henry was still out of his mind. Sam wasn’t in some fairytale. He lived in the real world. Cleaning his throat, Sam nodded to Bobby, allowing him to open the stall door. “I’ll be damned,” Bobby says in surprise. “That horse barely tolerates me.” “That's because he’s Sam’s horse!” Henry says, trying to stress the point. Placing his book on a stool, flipping to find the page of Sam riding Onyx through the woods. This was crazy. Sam had never ridden a horse in his life, yet he knew how to approach Onyx? Sam gave a gentle click of his tongue, followed by a soft kick to Onyx’s side. Sam wanted to take things slow. Just send the horse on a peaceful walk. Apparently, Onyx had other ideas, moving into a trot instead. Sam gives him a swift kick. “I said walk.” He muttered “I thought you said you never rode a horse before Sam?” Bobby questioned him. Sam blinked, looking over at the older man. “You made him stop on a dime since he wasn’t listening to ya. Only a rider who knows his horse would know how to control him like that.” Onyx was still not pleased with being told what to do, even if being ridden by Sam. He’d been cooped up in the stall for far too long. Onyx broke out into a full canter within a moment’s notice, rushing him and Sam into the woods outside of town. “Damn it, Onyx, slow down, would ya?!” Sam shouts, feeling frustrated and irritated. Why wasn’t the horse listening to him? It was clear the horse wanted to go running, to feel free and run. Sam desperately tried to gain his control back. While he was away, Henry and Bobby talked while looking over his storybook. Bobby was apparently in his book too, but Bobby was willing to sit and listen to Henry. Henry was just a boy. He needed friends to talk to instead of people brushing him off. “Onyx, I said slow down!” Sam snarled at the horse and gives it another firm kick to his rib area. Trying to make the stallion listen to reason. This time, after past attempts of misbehavior, Onyx finally slowed down to a trot then over to a walk. As sunset approached, Sam decided to climb down off Onyx and lead him back to the stables where he’d be in Bobby’s care once again. Offering to walk Henry home before choosing to walk home himself. He really didn’t want to head back to his apartment, didn’t want to face Ruby. She had given him enough of a headache and didn’t want to cause another one. Sam always knew he was welcomed at Granny’s for a meal. Even if he and Y/N weren’t on speaking terms. As Sam made his way into town, though, he heard screaming coming from the jail. It wasn’t anyone he knew, but the woman shouted a name he knew, making Sam feel sick to his stomach. “Graham...” Sam breathed, rushing over as fast as he could to help Emma. “Emma, Emma, what happened?” “I-I don’t know….” Emma stammered. “I….I think he’s dead….” She whispered, in a state of shock. With a frown, Sam leaned over to check Graham’s pulse on his neck then his wrist. With tears brimming his eyes, he rushed over to Granny’s for help. Y/N had just made her way inside from running an errand for Granny, noticing the look in Sam’s eyes. She slowly reached to place a gentle hand on his arm. “Sam? What is it?” she asked. A lonely tear fell down Sam’s cheek. “Graham’s Dead.”

#apahs #ouat fic #sam winchester x reader

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pink-peony-princess · 4 years

Text

Who Said Anything About Tact?

Violet's walk had started out like any other. She was a person of habit,very rarely did she break her routine, and so how she came to be by Old Station Bridge,she couldn't be sure. One thing had led to another, she had noticed the way the late afternoon light was hitting the trees just across the small river, the field behind it backlit perfectly. So perfectly that she'd done what she'd so rarely done before and stopped to take a photo.

She'd been warned about the presence of wolves by her mother so many times before, the whole town of Mercy Falls knew about them. There were the Cresent Moon pack, feared amongst wolves, but of zero threat to humans, in fact they were well know to help protect their human neighbours whenever necessary. And then there were the rogues, the mean, vicious, unapologetically violent, wolves that were fixated on taking the town for themselves.

Unfortunately for Violet this was who she came to be in the presence of the day it happened.

She'd taken her photo and had made it no more than 30 metres down the road when she heard the first growl. At first she ignored it, maybe it was a trick of her imagination she thought shaking her head. But she heard it again, this time closer, and she had a weird feeling as though she was being watched.

Before she had time to react, she was hanging just above the ground sharp teeth cutting into her side as she screamed to no effect for the animal to drop her, it shook her the way a dog would shake its prey to kill it, showing no sign of letting her go. She would have sworn she heard a crack of bone, but she couldn't be sure because her whole body felt like one giant punching bag. She called out for help again and again, but it was useless, no one would hear her out here, no one came along here, and for good reason she thought as she let her body go lump, accepting her fate.

Raul and his two betas- one of his brothers Peter and his friend Connor were nearly finished with their evening perimeter run of their lands when they heard it. The unmistakable rumble of growling in the distance. None of the three men recognised the tone, meaning it wasn't one (or several) of their own, which only left one other possibility-rogues.

They listened for a minute before they heard the sound of a woman shouting, begging for help over and over again before just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

The three wolves looked at one another before sprinting for the eastern boundary by Old Station Bridge. If there was a human,they were in trouble, there was no way a human could win against one rogue, let alone multiple.

Raul had dealt with his fair share of rogues in his short time as alpha, but nothing would prepare him for what they saw as they came to a stop by the bridge. A pack of 10 wolves were all circling a young brunette woman- from what Raul could see from the glimpses he was catching between the wall of wolves she around the same age as him and his brothers.

He made his way closer, careful not to bring attention to himself or his betas, he wanted the element of surprise.

He was just about to attack when the young woman looked up, as if she sensed help had come. What Raul wasn't expecting as the woman held his gaze was how it would make him feel. Initially Raul registered the terror and pain on the woman's face, the extreme helplessness, and then something hit him. It was the weirdest feeling- like warm tingling butterflies flooding Raul's entire body, his wolf- Knight- was restless, anxious really, begging to be let free, and then it happened, it clicked "Mate, mate, mate!" Knight shouted in Raul's head over and over again. There was a moment or two of elation where neither Raul or this unknown human girl moved before Raul was snapped back to reality by yet another growl from one of the rogues as they continued to circle and a small pitiful whimper from the girl.

There was no way he was going to let his mate get hurt he thought to himself as he lunged forward immediately knocking one of the wolves out of the way. Peter and Connor followed suit, just as easily dispensing another two wolves a good 10 metres from where they'd originally been. Though they got straight back up, poised to attack again.

Raul could see the girl clearly now that the circle had been broken and the sight pulled at his chest, though he wouldn't like to admit it.

The woman had a large gash on her temple which was trickling blood down the side of her head, dropping in a small pool on the ground, along with several puncture marks on her abdomen, which judging by the blood that had saturated her white shirt were deep, not to mention what looked like a very broken right wrist and scrapes covering just about every visible part of her body.

He could feel the anger rising him at what these low lives had done to the girl- his mate! His! Noone else's! And before he could think he was shifting ripping a pair of pants out of the nearest tree (thank the Lord the whole perimeter of their lands had stashes of clothes) and was running over to her.

A deep gutteral growl left his lips, stopping everyone in their tracks.

Even Peter and Connor stopped, they all knew what that growl meant, it was the possessive growl of a mated wolf warning everyone and everything in it's way to stay away- or else.

The girl flinched as Raul continued to growl as the rogues slowly backed up,clearing a path for him to get to her.

"Don't touch me," she begged, eyes wide with fear as she tried to shuffle backwards away from Raul as he bent down in front of her.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Raul spoke gruffly. "I'm trying to help you stop fighting me!" he grumbled, swinging her up into his arms effortlessly as she tried to push against him.

The way she sobbed as he moved her pulled at his heartstrings he had to admit, but right now he had a mission, get her to Shawn his other identical brother and one of the pack doctors before she past out or bled out.

"Let me go." she smacked his chest weakly,making absolutely no impact. Infact Raul barely felt it.

"Stop fighting me!" Raul snapped, feeling frustrated as he ran as fast as his legs would take him in the direction of home.

"I don't even know you! I want to go home!" the girl continued to struggle despite her injuries.

Peter who had been running behind Raul with Connor (both of whom must have shifted without Raul even realising) spoke up.

"Raul, look at her, she's terrified and in pain." Raul could tell without even looking at him that he felt bad for her, he was always such a softie, whereas Raul would rather be tactless and keep his mate alive than worry about being a gentleman.

Raul halted causing Peter to crash into him mid-step.

"Look Peter, I can either do as she asks, or I can save her life, which do you think I'm gonna choose?" he asked pointedly, glaring at his younger brother. He should know what was at stake here, afterall he'd found his mate Betty 6 months before and was absolutely besotted.

"I'm not saying you're not doing the right thing." Peter tried to backpedal. "Just maybe be a little nicer, a little more understanding, think about how you'd feel if you were in her position. She's human. Attacked by rogues and then some strange guy who also happens to be a wolf comes and picks you up and snaps at you when you try to defend yourself as you would."

"I'm trying to help her," Raul snapped again, glaring still.

"I know you are," Peter smiled sympathetically, "all I'm saying is maybe watch your tone."

"I'm sorry," he sighed, looking down at the crying girl in his arms. "My name's Raul, I know you're scared but if you don't let me help you won't be alive to go home," he explained impatiently, still walking.

"But you're a wolf. Why would you help me?" The confusion in her voice genuinely surprised him.

"Not all of us are big bad wolves," he answered, not disclosing the real reason. She was quiet for a minute except for the occasional hiss from pain.

"You are." she looked up at him waiting for a response, but Raul was so shocked that all he could do was laugh.

"You might be right you know."

...

By the time they made it to the pack house the girl, his mate had become lethargic and non- talkative. Raul wouldn't let it show, but he was really starting to panic. When he'd thought so many times before about the possibility of meeting his mate, this was so not what he'd imagined. But here he was carrying a half- limp woman with potentially life-threatening injuries through his house with everyone they came across giving him the same look of shock and confusion.

Peter and Connor had disappeared to put a search party together to deal with the rogues in question. Raul had really been quite forgiving of them over the two years he'd been in charge, but this, this was too far, this he would not forgive, he'd hunt them for the rest of his days if that's what it took to get revenge.

He would never forgive them for what they'd done to his mate. Never.

He made his way up the stairs that led to the pack hospital quicky- it had been decided when he became alpha that a whole floor of the pack house (it was a mansion really if you took the size into account) would be turned into something of a hospital. Not only was it more convenient for everyone in the pack house- rather than going to a GP or hospital they could simply walk upstairs and be seen by a doctor nearly straight away, but it was practical for all the times when werewolves would come home injured from fights or assignments and need immediate medical care. As this woman did now. When Raul reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner to the door of the hospital he was met with a wall of people and even more curious eyes. Everyone seemed shocked to see their alpha- usually so tough and strong carrying a semi conscious woman as though she might break at any moment.

"Out of the way, fucking move!" he yelled, causing her to whimper as the sound sent shock waves through her skull. Everyone scurried, heads down not game to look their alpha in the eye. They knew just from his stance, let alone his tone that he wasn't kidding around.

"Shawn get your arse in here!" he called as he pushed his way through another door and into the consultation area.

He made his way over to a bed, putting her down as gently as he could, but she still gave a whine of discomfort.

Whether in a half-delirious state or simply trying to distance herself from him, she made a move to try and get off the bed almost immediately but he stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Stay," he spoke, a little too harshly, instantly regretting it when he saw her bottom lip quiver slightly. "Sorry," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Who's this?" Shawn asked walking through the door a moment later, he looked between Raul and the young woman on the bed. Up close Raul could see just how pretty she was, chocolate brown eyes and a few freckles here and there. She was perfect he thought.

"Took you long enough," Raul grouched "She's my mate," he spoke quickly, watching as both Shawn and the woman's eyes went wide. Shawn was the first to recover, nodding and waiting for his brother to go on as though he hadn't just mentioned something totally life changing.

"She was attacked by rogues. I'm going to fucking kill them!" he fumed pacing the area.

...

As soon as Violet heard the word 'mate' she began to freak out, her breathing became laboured. She couldn't help but claw at her throat in a desperate attempt to get air. She couldn't have this jerk as a mate, she couldn't leave her home to live with a pack of wolves, she wouldn't.

Shawn rushed over grabbing an oxygen mask and gently placing it on her face.

"That's it, nice slow breathes, you're okay," he encouraged as Raul looked on helplessly.

"Raul, get outside, cool off, you're terrifying her. Look at her," he spoke not bothering to look at his brother, still trying to coax Violet into a semi-normal breathing pattern.

Ordinarily, Raul would have kicked Shawn's arse from here to Mars for talking to him like that, but when he turned to face his mate and saw the tears of fright rolling down her face, the way she clung to his brother's hand, he was brought back to the present. Of course he could be hot-headed and he had a reputation to uphold, but that didn't mean he wanted his mate to be scared of him. Hell that was the last thing he wanted.

"Sorry," he muttered, pushing past Shawn and walking out the door.

They heard a crash of what sounded like a vase, causing Violet to jump again.

"Sorry about him," Shawn apologised. "I promise, he's really not that bad, he's a big softie really, he just gets protective of his loved ones and doesn't necessarily deal with the emotion the best way. I'm Shawn by the way," he smiled.

"V-violet," She looked at him still unsure.

"Can I have a look at your injuries?" he asked.

"Y-yeah," she answered.

He smiled before carefully assessing the surface injuries. Violet was relieved to hear that the bite wounds although nasty weren't life-threatening and would heal 'just fine' although he did get Violet to hold a piece of gauze over the area while he went about setting her up with different what felt like a 100 different leads so he could track her vitals.

"I'm just going to get you hooked up to a few monitors okay. They won't hurt, they're just so I can keep track of your heart rate and oxygen levels, things like that okay?"

She nodded, and Shawn went about making sure the slightly insane amount of leads were properly attached, before coming back over to the bed and pulling a penlight from his breast pocket.

"Looks like you gave yourself a nasty whack here," he commented, trying to be a bit more casual about it to put her at ease.

"Follow my finger," he asked as he turned the light on and shone it towards Violet, immediately making her want to recoil. "Do you remember what day it is?" he asked with a small frown, as he pocketed the light once again.

"Saturday?" she answered feeling very unsure.

"Yeah it is," Shawn smiled sympathetically at her obvious confusion and fear.

Things were quiet for a while except for the rhythmic beeping of the machines attached to Violet which were starting to lull her into sleep

"Knock, knock?" someone tapped at the door gently startling Violet, before a man who looked almost exactly the same as Shawn, except with shorter hair poked his head into the room." Hey, I just came to see how you were? The others just left to track the wolves that attacked you and Raul's downstairs sulking," he smiled as he stepped into the room, dodging Shawn who was now busy getting supplies out to deal with the nasty and numerous wounds covering Violet's body. "I'm Peter," he held out a hand.

She smiled,holding out her left non- injured hand, "Violet."

Shawn walked back over to the bed carrying a load of medical supplies which he placed on the bed beside Violet, it made her feel a bit sick thinking about it, there were bottles of disinfectant, scissors,wipes, packets of what looked like needles and tubing, sheets of protective paper and gloves.

"Try not to focus on what I'm doing, why don't you talk to Peter while I work?" he suggested, kicking a rolling stool in Peter's direction which he sat on before following suit on his own one. "I need to start an I.V. with some antibiotics okay?" he added, before picking up a packet from the bed and ripping it open.

Violet stiffened as what Shawn had said sunk in, an I.V. meant, a needle and Violet was no good with needles, the last time she had to have one she fainted in the reception area of her doctor's.

"It's okay," Shawn tried to calm her, but he could tell that she was only becoming more and more uptight.

"Hold Peter's hand if you want," Shawn suggested seeing the tears pooling in her eyes.

She took Peter's hand immediately in her good one and Shawn went about positioning her arm for the I.V., wiping her arm before lining the needle up and looking up at her. "Sharp scratch," he warned before inserting the needle quickly, but carefully.

She jumped slightly, and gave a small whimper, but overall, she thought, it wasn't too bad.

"There all done," Shawn smiled, getting up to discard the waste into a special bin. "How's your pain? I'm going to give you a local anesthetic when I clean your abdomen and head up, but I can give you a dose of pain relief if you need it," he offered.

"Please," she nodded, a few tears falling down her face.

Shawn nodded again going to get the pain relief when there was another knock on the door, this one was harder than when Peter had knocked to come in. The door opened and Raul came in, not waiting to be invited. Violet noticed straight away how much calmer he looked.

They stared at each other for a moment, before Shawn walked back into the room, stopping when he saw Rau in the doorway.

"You can come in if you're calm enough," Shawn invited him, promoting Raul to step fully into the room and close the door behind him.

"Raul, this is Violet."

Raul smiled a really genuine smile and Violet couldn't help but notice, now that he wasn't being a totally arse, just how handsome he was, how handsome all three of them were- Raul, Shawn and Peter. They were all well built, and extremely tall- towering over Violet's 5'2" frame, with curly brown hair and brown eyes. Raul was by far the most well built and intimidating with a sleeve of tattoos covering his arm and right hand as few scattered on his neck. Up close Violet could see the lip and ear piercings that only added to the tough almost gothic look. The smile on his face a stark contrast to the rest of his appearance.

...

Raul made his way over to the bed slowly, carefully, the last thing he wanted to do was scare Violet anymore than he already had. He wanted to show her the softer side of him, the side that would do anything for his mate, the side that was fiercely protective and loyal. Not the arsehole he showed her when they first met.

Peter stood up and smiled before leaving the room, the rolling stool now vacant. Raul took the opportunity to sit down, still looking at this young woman in awe.

"I'm sorry I was an arse to you," he apologised, looking down at his hands.

Violet didn't say anything, but when Raul looked up, she nodded softly signalling she'd heard him.

"Violet I'm going to start stitching your head up now okay?" Shawn interrupted their little moment.

Raul could see the panic on Violet's face as Shawn spoke and wanted so badly to comfort her, but he wasn't sure how. He felt so much pity and protectiveness at his tiny mate laying helplessly on the bed as Shawn tended to her injuries.

...

"Can I, can I hold your hand?" The softness and tentiveness of the question was so unlike Raul that both Violet and Shawn stopped, stunned momentarily. As much as Violet wanted to say no, just to prove a point that you don't get to be a complete jerk and then backflip and suddenly everything was okay again, she had to admit that an odd sense of calm had washed over her since Raul had entered the room.

She nodded again and he immediately took her hand carefully, sending shockwaves of tingles up both of their bodies. She looked at him panicked, but he just smiled reassuringly, before speaking, "It's the mate connection," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently. It felt odd to be holding someone's hand that she'd barely met and that had been so cold to her previously and yet, it felt so right.

Her thought train was interrupted by a sharp prick and then an intense stinging started on she forehead, before Shawn was pulling up her top revealing the wounds that she'd been holding pressure on. "Deep breath," Shawn warned this time before yet another prick and more stinging, the process was repeating a further two times before he discarded the needle.

"Oww, it's stinging," she whimpered.

"Shawn why'd you have to hurt her!" Raul half growled, though it was nothing on what he'd been like earlier.

"I'm not trying to, I promise, unfortunately it can be a side effect of the anesthetic. It shouldn't last long."

After she was stitched up,and her broken wrist x-rayed and plastered the two men left her to have a moment alone while they spoke outside.

"How bad?" Raul asked folding his arms.

Shawn sighed, "She's badly banged up. She'll need to be on I.V.for at least 24 hours."

"I want her in my room," Raul demanded immediately.

"Did you hear what I said?" Shawn asked.

"Did you hear what I said?" He counted harshly.

"Fine," Shawn sighed. "'I'll set her up in your room. If she agrees."

Raul nodded, a smirk on his face. They both knew he'd won the battle and there was nothing Shawn could do about it.

By the way, what were you thinking, just picking her up and bringing her here before actually talking to her?" he shook his head. "She was terrified." Raul who could hear the disapproval in Shawn's voice didn't take lightly to being spoken to by one of his pack, let alone his own brother.

"One don't talk to me like that, ever again,I might be your brother, but I'm also your Alpha and two I'm sorry, but if I hadn't have done what I did, she would be dead. Maybe that makes me harsh or whatever but I'd rather save my mate and the future luna of our pack than worry about pleasentries."

Shawn wanted to say more, but knew better than to push Raul so he simply said "I'll talk to her about staying with you, stay here." Before he left,not waiting for his reply.

...

As Shawn had expected as soon as he mentioned the idea of being in Raul's room, she shot him down pointing out that while he'd been nice to her in the last 30 minutes or so, he'd been a total jerk previously and she didn't want to be stuck with thst.

"I know he wasn't the nicest to you," Shawn agreed, "But I promise he means well, he was stressed and frustrated. He's your mate, it's his job to love and protect you and trust me he will do anything to honour that, even if it means being a bit harsh sometimes. Plus being around him will help you heal quicker, it's something that your body will recognise subconsciously, even for you as a human. It's one of our weird werewolf things. Please," he put his hands together practically begging.

"Fine," she conceeded, but if he's even the slightest bit rude I'm outta there,"

"Deal."

Half an hour later and Violet was situated in the most comfortable bed she'd ever laid in, the smell of Raul (a mixture of Sandalwood and Musk) filling her senses. She had to admit it calmed her, despite her wariness towards him.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked leaning against the doorway arms folding a smile once again gracing his face, making him look so much less scary. She jumped slightly holding a hand to her chest.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he apologised and something in the way he said it told her he wasn't just apologising for now.

"S'okay," she yawned, "but you have zero tact you know," she laughed as he frowned.

"I'm Raul Mendes, alpha of the largest pack in Canada,I can be mean, I can be ruthless,I also protect the ones I love with everything I have. But who said anything about tact? Cause it definitely wasn't me," he laughed, coming over to sit on the bed next to her, careful not to invade her space. As Violet drifted into a dream-state she could have sworn she heard him say "Sleep well, little mate," but of course when she questioned him on it the next day Raul would deny it till he was blue, well red in the face- with embarrassment that is. Maybe he wasn't such a big bad wolf afterall Violet thought.

#raul mendes #raul has zero tact #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes #shawnblr

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may-day-voice · 3 years

Text

First Impressions

Eijirou Kirishima's Timeline | 172732014

please do not repost, but you have permission to reblog :)

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The ticking of the clock nagged at the back of your mind. It didn't help while you sat at your desk, eyeing the clock on the wall, waiting for the day to end. Today wasn't as exciting as you thought it would be, being one of the few days that you were stuck at a desk rather than patrolling the city. Fourth Kind had been fervent about balancing effectiveness at the agency, but that also meant having to take up the desk job every once in a while.

You stared at the pile of papers you completed forms for regarding reports on your own patrols as well as any others in the agency. The one thing Fourth Kind was very fervent about aside from civil service was prompt paperwork. It was boring if you were being honest. You wanted to be out and about, seeing people, fighting crime, saving a cat, anything but staring at the hands of the clock counting down to the end of the day.

A yawn caught you off guard while you stretched your limbs up high, spying the seconds counting down on the wall.

"Ah, how's my best Hero?" Boomed a voice from behind, turning your head up and backwards to spot Fourth Kind, with all four arms crossed.

"Ah, sir?! Boss! Hey!" You exclaimed with a grin, waving at the Pro-Hero, still leaning against your chair.

"I'll need you to be a part of an operation prepared for downtown Musatafu. You're our best candidate for the job."

Well, that was sudden, and with only ten minutes and sixteen seconds to spare, but your face brightened up at the prospect of being considered for a major operation. It made you fumble a little on your seat, righting yourself to turn towards Fourth Kind properly.

"Whoa really?" You exclaimed, turning your gaze between him and the clock.

"Yes, it's being set up for Esuha City. I was originally part of the First Wave, but the Commission decided to keep us at a distance and put in some young blood," explained Fourth Kind, his eyes pensive at the decision. "Made me think of you to take my place, besides with your running record of keeping the peace in our small neighbourhood, you're a public favorite."

You nervously sighed, pondering on the tiny notion that this choice of his was favouritism over your primary skill set, however, that didn't deter the excitable butterflies in your stomach.

"So, what are the deets to this thing?" You asked, noticing the clock still counting down.

"Well, that's why I came to fetch you," started Fourth Kind. "The meeting's in half an hour at Fatgum's agency."

"What?"

"The operation is set for tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"Pack your desk down. We set out at 1655 hours."

And with that, Fourth Kind left you to your devices, staring blankly at his large back. Despite his passion for civil service, his promptness wasn't ideal at times, catching you off your game most times in the office. It was also part of the reason why you'd prefer patrols.

You stared at the clock, noticing its hands close to the time Fourth Kind had stated earlier before you pulled yourself up from the seat. At the very least, you were given an early mark.

——

The trek to Fatgum's agency wasn't eventful riding in Fourth Kind's car to the office. But with every turn on the road it made your stomach churn. You rapped your fingers on your lap with anticipation, wondering what this meeting was about. It came too suddenly at the end of the day, and as soon as your eyes landed on the building ahead, you could feel the nerves travel through your limbs.

After Fourth Kind parked his car, the both of you entered into Fatgum's agency, noticing a handful of Sidekicks leaving for the day, as well as noticing a small handful of Commission agents waiting around the foyer. Along with them was Fatgum, his burly size hard to miss while he conversed with who you presumed was a Hero. By the look of them, you recognized them as the Head of the Local Hero Network, soon watching them excuse themselves from their conversation to take a phone call.

"The meeting will start soon in Meeting Room One," informed Fourth Kind. "Be ready in ten minutes."

"Will do, sir," you affirmed, finding a smile on Fourth Kind's face before he greeted Fatgum ahead.

After the long drive, you decided to stretch your legs by taking a stroll around the foyer, making note of where the meeting room was held as well as admiring the agency. You've roamed inside once or twice before, but it was on a casual basis, more so because you were involved in Hero activities within the bounds of Esuha City, out of your volition, or out of your control. You sighed remembering the number of paperwork you had to fill, another bane of Pro-Hero life.

You soon found yourself wandering the agency, stumbling across a few Sidekicks who passed by ready to either end the day or start their shifts for the midnight hour. You couldn't imagine anyone who would willingly take graveyard shifts, but shrugged knowing that that wasn't the kind of life you'd ever want to find yourself in. Stuck in thought, you bumped into a tall figure taken by surprise by your absent-mindedness. He took a few steps back, hands up in defense before he uttered a small apology.

"Oh no, that's on me!" You yelped, mirroring the man standing by you with his long blue locks hiding away his eyes from you. "I wasn't paying attention."

"Oh, still, sorry about that," he spoke in a low whisper. "Did I hurt you?"

"Nah, I'm fine. You have a pretty hefty swing in your shoulder though."

"Is that bad?"

"Huh? No, I was going to say that you're probably pretty fit."

You smiled up at the man, finding his eyes looking elsewhere, yet he did not budge or make an attempt to leave your vicinity. You stared at him, wondering where you had seen him before. He looked awfully familiar, but with his casual tee and outfit, you couldn't quite place your finger on who he was.

"Is something wrong?" He quietly asked, noticing your stare.

"Oh sorry, that's rude of me," you apologized with a nervous chuckle. "I'll leave you be. Have a great evening!"

With that, you continued to walk the halls, leaving the broody man behind. You checked the clock on your phone, seeing that there was five minutes left before the meeting was to start. You contemplated if you could take a roundabout route back to the foyer or just turn your heel and walk back the way you came. Still, you may end up crossing paths with that gentleman again, which wasn't a terrible notion if it wasn't for that nagging feeling at the back of your mind that you had seen him somewhere before.

You quickly decided to turn tail hoping to save a few minutes if you trekked back the way you came, your body swinging on your heel until you crashed into somebody. In the collision, as if by reflex, he grabbed hold of your arm while you did the same, stopping you from falling backwards onto the floor. The rush was mind-boggling. You felt like you walked into a brick wall.

"Whoa, hey, you all right?" He asked, concerned for your well-being.

"Yeah I'm fine," you started, still boggled. "Thanks."

"Heh, my bad, I should've looked where I was going."

"Same. I thought I walked right into... a..."

You shook your head a little before you turned to find a redhead before you, his long locks loosely tied behind his head while his headband opened his face up with his toothy grin. He appeared a little disheveled as if he just came out fresh from the showers, but he was built and towered over you in a crisp shirt and track pants. He looked rather friendly though, his bright eyes smiling down at you until he stared into your own stare, his expression curious of your trailing silence while he still kept a hold on you.

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" He asked, waving his hand before your eyes to snap you out of your reverie.

"Huh? What? Yeah, I'm fine," you piped, shaking your head.

"For a minute I thought you had a concussion," he admitted with a smile. "Glad I'm wrong."

You chuckled nervously in reply while you reprimanded yourself internally at the embarrassment that soon travelled through your veins. Were you just staring at his chest of all places? And then the feel of his hands on you as did your hands on his crossed your mind, releasing yourself from him in realization.

In an attempt to keep your thoughts from bay, you pulled out your phone, noticing that you had lost a couple of minutes on the clock. Panic ensued, realizing that this meeting was about to start and you still had to trek back to the foyer.

"Well, nice to meet you. Sorry for the trouble. I have to go," you quickly spoke, running your mouth while you slowly made your way past the man to ready yourself until-

"You're part of Fatgum's meeting, yeah?" Asked the man, catching you off guard and halting you in your tracks.

"Um, yeah?" You replied, hoping not to waste any more time lest Fourth Kind reprimanded you for your lackluster punctuality.

"The foyer is quicker to reach down this way," suggested the redhead, pointing in the other direction.

"Really?"

"Yeah, the agency runs in a loop, it's better than having to walk three quarters of the way back."

That made so much more sense than to rush back the way you came adding more time to your dilemma. You quietly turned towards the redhead, walking past him and continuing to do so down the hall.

"Uh, thanks!" You quickly piped, hoping to get to the meeting before the man appeared beside you again, walking along with you.

"I'm on my way as well, so you don't mind if I join you?" He asked while he rubbed against his neck, rolling his shoulders a little.

"Oh yeah sure, why not?" You quickly spoke, still semi-power walking through the halls hoping that would shave seconds against the clock. Despite your speed, the man kept pace with you, looking unstressed about the matter. If it was the end of his day, he had it easy, unlike this impromptu meeting that was thrusted upon you.

"Wait a minute, you're part of this meeting too?" You asked, spotting a nonchalant look on the man's face.

"Oh yeah, Fatgum spoke to me earlier today about it," he answered with a smile.

"Do you happen to know what's going on?"

"You haven't been briefed about it?"

"I was only told about this whole thing before five this evening, and then the intention of being part of a First Wave? But that's about it."

You noticed something change in the man's demeanor, glancing your way before the both of you arrived into the foyer. It was quicker than you had anticipated to reach your destination before you noticed a group of people outside Meeting Room One. Aong with your boss Fourth Kind and Fatgum, a familiar gentleman spoke casually to the BMI Hero by the doors - that soft spoken man that you bumped into earlier in your wandering. Staring at the two conversing beside each other triggered that nagging feeling again, staring at the scene until it finally clicked where you had seen the man.

You didn't recognize Suneater out of uniform, only realizing that fact when you could visually see him next to Fatgum. You felt your ears warmed with embarrassment, recalling that minor altercation in the hallway despite it being a to and fro of self-blaming one another. You had spoken words with one of Fatgum's Top Heroes, in fact, with one of the most highly sought out and spoken about Heroes to graduate from UA in his time. And all you did was just stare. You felt like hiding away between your shoulders, wondering if he was part of the meeting until you spotted him bidding farewell to Fatgum, leaving the agency.

"There you are!" Yelled Fourth Kind from across the foyer, your shoulders stiffening from his harsh tone. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry," you called back. "I arrived within ten minutes just like you advised."

You shut your eyes, expecting a knock on your head by one of his many fists until you felt nothing come your way. You peeked through one of your eyes, finding Fourth Kind looking elsewhere but with a smirk on his lips.

"Well, long time no see," he spoke, catching your attention.

"I'd say the same Fourth Kind. How have you been?" Spoke the man's cheerful voice next to you.

"Doing my part, and keeping this one in line."

You felt his words referring to you, a little embarrassed and confused about the current exchange between the men until the redhead placed a strong hand on your shoulder.

"Oh they're one of yours?" He asked.

"My best and brightest, at least on patrol," replied Fourth Kind.

"Hey!" You retorted in kind.

"Come on folks, let's get this sorted," yelled Fatgum from afar, leading everyone into the meeting room for this briefing to start. "Get a move on Red Riot, you're the main focus here!"

"Gotcha, we'll be in soon!" Yelled the redhead.

Your heart immediately stopped. Did Fatgum just call this guy next to you the illustrious-

"Nice to chat with you Red Riot," commented Fourth Kind. "We'll see you inside."

"Sure thing, can I have a moment?" Requested Red Riot with a smile.

You only caught a haughty chuckle from your boss before he strode towards the meeting room, leaving you with the Pro-Hero still with his hand on your shoulder. You felt nothing but sheer and utter embarrassment at your lack of awareness. You blamed the whole day at a desk numbing your faculties, kicking yourself mentally that not only did you not recognize Suneater, but you didn't even discern the Red Riot.

"Wow, I never knew you were part of his agency," he started nonchalantly. "Guess it makes sense if you're in the First Wave instead of him now. But hey, I guess this is good news. I get to meet my partner before we set off on this mission tomorrow."

"Wait, what? Partner?" You piped, still trying to catch up to the situation.

"Yeah, I'm leading the First Wave and you're my reinforcement. It's just the two of us."

You stared at Red Riot slack-jawed, speechless from the arrangement. You were being partnered with the Red Riot, the rising Pro-Hero in Fatgum's agency only equal to the recent intake of Heroes from his academy no less. You stood there not knowing what you wanted to say. Was it a thank you, or an honorable mention? You were just a patroller if anything. Missions were somewhat a pipe dream you hoped to embark on one day, but never had you thought that would arrive tomorrow.

"Are you sure you didn't bump your head too hard back there?" He asked with concern.

"Uh, no, I mean yes, I'm okay, I'm perfectly fit and ready Red Riot. Whatever you need I've got your back," you blurted out.

Just what were you thinking?

"Please call me Kirishima out of uniform," he jested with a smile, his hand outstretched before him in greeting.

Still in shock and utter waves of nauseating embarrassment, you took his hand, feeling it engulf yours with a hearty shake. Kirishima soon led you towards the meeting room before seating yourself where your name card placed you, still next to him. It only exacerbated that self-consciousness of yours, feeling it implode with every glance of his smile, toothy or not. As the meeting proceeded, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, finding his cheerful and serious moments both surprising and frightening. A mix of emotions ebbed and flowed; excitement, mortification, and the feeling that you may have blown your first impressions.

You thought best to get yourself out of desk job duties in the future.

#eijirou kirishima fluff #eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha au #bnha #kirishima #pro heroes #pro hero kirishima

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joe-mazzello-archive · 4 years

Text

Two Lost Souls

A Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader fic

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: references to the war/violence (duh), references to ptsd, panic attack/nightmare, snafu being his crass self, so much awkward flirting, a teeny tiny bit of angst

A/N: okay story time -- one day a few months ago i rewatched the last episode of the pacific and then took a nap and proceeded to have a lovely dream about cuddling with eugene in a train booth and running my fingers through his hair sooooo here we are. i’m extremely nervous to post this as it was a labor of love and it’s almost my first full period piece. i hope you enjoy! also bonus points if you know what book the reader is reading.

moodboard by @brianmays-hair

The nightmares started while Eugene was still in Peleliu. Flashes of blood and corpses and metal and dirt. Screaming and explosions, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. But then he’d wake up to the same visuals, the same sounds. His reality was one long nightmare. There was no escape, no end in sight.

Now Eugene was afraid this was all a pleasant dream. No screaming, no blood. From the moment he set foot back on the mainland, he was in constant fear that he’d wake up and be back there. Especially when the nightmares felt so real. Sometimes he didn’t know what was his true reality.

It had taken a while to get the dirt out from under his fingernails, to get the stench out of his hair, but eventually he did feel clean again.

You can’t shower away the memories. Those linger much longer.

Distractions helped. He read, he smoked. He chatted with his fellow marines. He enjoyed the good food he was given, tried to find comfort in the bed he got to sleep in. He thought about Mobile and his parents and Sid and how he’d be home to them soon. He was hyper-focused on everything and anything, knowing that if he let his mind wander, it’d wander right back there.

It’s how he found himself people-watching at the bustling San Diego train station. The boys were prattling next to him about some girl Snafu had gone fishing for, but Eugene was more engrossed in the crowd around them. Sure there were tons of other marines around, but they were mixed in with parents wrangling their children, businessmen with their briefcases, lovers saying their goodbyes.

A flash of dark red caught Eugene’s eye. A woman, probably around Eugene’s age, stood alone on the platform, clad in a burgundy blazer and matching skirt with a brown trunk resting at her feet. Whereas most of the platform was hectic and frazzled, she stood firm and patient, a calmness about her. She seemed unperturbed by the world around her, lost in her own thoughts, her eyes cast downward as she let out a sigh.

She was beautiful.

Not in the way that the nurses back on the island greeted soldiers with their red-lipped smiles and white uniforms. Not in the way that the girls had primped for the Murphy High prom, practically fighting to dance with Sid while not paying Eugene any mind -- which seemed a lifetime ago now. No, this girl was beautiful in a way that Eugene couldn’t put his finger on. She was beautiful in a way that stopped him in his tracks like no girl ever had before.

The whistle of the train finally arriving at the station and a hand on his shoulder pulled Eugene out of his trance.

“Last leg, Sledge,” Burgie commented with a nod towards the train. Eugene replied with a half-smile before following the corporal, Snafu already ahead of them. Sneaking one last quick glance in the direction of where he last saw the beautiful woman, Eugene was greeted with a sea of people - no flash of burgundy in sight. With a sigh, adjusted the duffle on his shoulder and boarded the train, ready to get home.

You weren’t a big fan of long train rides. The rumbling of the cars, the confined spaces, the stale air, the bad food -- it was miserable. Last time you’d boarded a train, it had been under bittersweet circumstances - excitement mixed with worry. But three years had passed since you had arrived in San Diego, and after finding yourself jobless with no place to stay, your time in the port town had come to an end.

So you booked your ticket back home, with nothing but your childhood room and your disillusioned parents waiting for you. What a way to make an already miserable form of travel even more miserable.

You found your only solace was in reading. Luckily you had grabbed a newspaper from the stand at the station -- and snatched a book from your sister’s home before you left. You planned on losing yourself in words while the American countryside passed by your window. You had quite the trek ahead of you.

You sat at a table in the dining car, a bottle of barely-sipped cola accompanying the plate of lunch that had been hardly touched. You held the newspaper in one hand as you used your fork to idly push around your roasted potatoes.

“Is your meal alright, miss?” sounded the voice of a slender waiter above you. With a deep sigh, you lowered your paper and plastered a polite smile, meeting the young staff member’s stare.

“It’s just fine, thank you,” you replied, your voice cheery despite your true demeanor. The gentleman nodded before leaving you be, stepping to the next table. As you watched him leave, your eyes drifted across the aisle of the car. A lone marine sat at the table catty-corner to yours, a private first class by the looks of his uniform. His auburn hair was neatly coiffed and a striking nose divided his face. His eyes were downcast, staring out the window, an almost solemn look to him. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he was handsome - in a genteel boyish way.

But he was no boy. Many of the servicemen you had encountered in the past few years maybe were boys before they left. But being sent overseas to be met with nothing but violence and death -- those boys grew up quickly. This marine was no different. You could see it in the distant look in his eyes. He had seen terrors and lived to tell the tale.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a drawling southern accent behind you.

“Hiya,” the voice greeted. You glanced over your shoulder to find another marine trailing behind a woman. The woman turned at the greeting. “I’m Merriel Shelton. How about I take you to the back and you can show me your caboose?”

You spun back forward, eyes wide and your hand shooting up to cover your mouth, hiding your smirk. And when a resounding slap echoed behind you, a short giggle escaped your lips. The woman stomped down the aisle in a tiff, while the extremely forward marine and his buddy took their seats, joining the lonely marine you had been admiring.

You shook your head at the antics, turning your attention back to your paper. The boys’ voices across the aisle carried over to your side, but you tried to tune them out, not wanting to unintentionally eavesdrop. You urged yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your ears betrayed you. After reading the same sentence over four times, not digesting a single word, your gaze drifted back over to your marine, who had taken up buttering the biscuit that had been sitting on his plate. His posture and manner had shifted, he seemed more relaxed in the presence of his fellow soldiers. His eyes were soft and friendly, and the ghost of a smile had taken up residence on his face.

“Guess I’m gonna find out soon enough whether I’m getting married or not,” the colonel who sat across from your marine declared wistfully before turning his attention to your marine. “What about you, Sledgehammer?”

You grinned at what you assumed was a nickname. How a seemingly mild-mannered fellow like your marine could have gotten the moniker of “Sledgehammer” was beyond you. Your eyes drifted back to the man, interested in his answer. He seemed to ponder the question for a moment, a flash of uncertainty briefly crossing his face as he picked at his biscuit.

“I’m just hoping this Florence girl comes to her senses,” he finally cracked with a smirk. So he was clever, too. You found that you couldn’t help but smile through the exchange, your gaze dropping back to your lap.

“Got a job lined up in Mobile?” An Alabama boy. That was an interesting development.

“Nah,” he revealed, his apparent uncertainty no longer bothering him. “No job, no girl…no plans.”

You and the lone marine had more in common than you had originally thought.

“How long you think that’s gonna last?” the flirtatious marine from before inquired, relaxing back in his seat. But the laughter of a pair of businessmen passing by your table concealed the marine’s answer. You shot a glare towards the rowdy gentlemen’s backs. How dare they prevent you from snooping on some strangers’ conversation!

Your gaze fell back to the trio of boys, and you couldn’t help but admire the redhead’s smile. The way his eyes lit up with warmth at his friends’ jokes, the way the dimple between his brows appeared and disappeared -- he was beautiful.

You were lost in your musings when for a brief moment, your marine’s eyes suddenly locked on to yours.

His smile fell and a look you couldn’t identify -- confusion? recognition? irritation? -- flashed across the features of his handsome face before you broke the spell and looked back down at your paper. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stared down at the black ink on the page. How embarrassing. You had been boldly staring at the man for an inappropriate amount of time -- listening to his conversation, no less -- and now you had been caught.

You couldn’t help but think about the marine’s reaction. In the fleeting moment that he held your gaze, it was almost as if he’d seen a ghost. You didn’t want him to think you were some creep or some crazy woman.

You lifted your eyes slightly, glancing across the aisle. Your marine’s cheeks were pink as he gazed back at you softly - but only for a moment before his eyes quickly fell back down to the plate in front of him.

And that became the game you played. As the train chugged through the desert - what you assumed was Arizona - you and your marine took turns stealing glances at each other. First you, then he’d notice and you’d look away. Then he’d stare and you’d catch him. Each time, a rosy color would come to his cheeks and a hint of a smile would appear. Your own shyness began to fade with each time you’d catch him, even throwing him a wink at one point.

After another hour or so, your marine’s friends elected to head back to their coach seats. You assumed your game was over, and you tried to not let yourself be too disappointed. You closed your paper, having finally read every word -- though whether you absorbed any of it was up for debate. You gathered your things, pondering your next move. Maybe you’d wander to the observation car - it tended to be quieter as the sun went down. You slung your messenger bag over your shoulder and were about to step into the aisle when you were met with the sight of your marine, alone once again, staring out the window. Just like the first time you noticed him.

You took a deep breath, channeled your sister’s boldness and took a seat at the marine’s table.

It was her. The mystery woman. The beautiful girl clad in burgundy from the train platform was sitting across from Eugene.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts as he gaped at her. He had spent the last hour stealing glances at her across the aisle, unsure if she was real or simply a vision. Now there she was, close enough for Eugene to reach out and touch her, gazing at him with soft eyes and a friendly smile.

“Hi,” she spoke after a few moments, breaking the silence and Eugene’s daze.

“Hi,” Eugene practically whispered, unable to find his voice. He cleared his throat before starting again. “I do apologize for staring, miss. You know, before.”

The young woman let out a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, let’s not pretend you were the sole offender, private. I believe I was staring at you first.” Oh how wrong she was. But Eugene would keep that correction to himself.

She offered her name and her hand across the table for a shake, and Eugene almost immediately felt at ease in her presence. She certainly was not like the girls back in Mobile.

“I’m Eugene,” he offered in return, trying to ignore how soft her hand felt in his. She smirked as she let him go.

“So where does ‘Sledgehammer’ come from then?” she questioned with a quirked brow, and Eugene flushed at his nickname falling from her gentle lips.

“My last name. Sledge,” he explained. “Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, at your service, miss.” His explanation earned a bright smile from the girl, and Eugene decided right then and there that he’d do anything he could to make her smile again.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sledge,” she said with a nod.

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, miss.”

The woman playfully narrowed her eyes at Eugene, as if she were examining him.

“Was all that true? Before?” she asked before pursing her lips.

“Was what true?”

“No job. No girl. No plans,” she recited back to him, adding a twang to her normal voice. Eugene could feel the heat in his cheeks once again. He let out a nervous chuckle and scratched at the back of his neck.

“‘Fraid so, miss,” he responded, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Hope you don’t think less of me.” The woman shook her head as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Of course not,” she assured him. “I just don’t believe you.” She shrugged and cocked an eyebrow challengingly. Eugene was thrown off by her answer.

“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with a furrowed brow. She casually shrugged once again, as if she was making perfect sense.

“No way you can be this handsome and charming and not have a girl waiting for you back home.”

If the young woman was on a mission to make Eugene blush at all costs, she was extremely successful. Eugene shakily laughed as he stared down at his lap, unable to meet her gaze after that.

“My apologies, Mr. Sledge,” she spoke again, and Eugene let himself glance back up to see her timidly looking away this time. “That was awfully forward of me.”

Eugene was so thrown by his woman in burgundy. The prettiest dame he’d ever laid eyes on had gone out of her way to talk to him. Ask him questions. Compliment him. Yet he could see that she was just as nervous as he was. It was disarming in a way.

“No apology necessary, miss,” Eugene affirmed, offering a friendly smile when she met his gaze once again. “I’m just not used to getting attention from a gal as beautiful as you.”

A new game began. Eugene and his woman in burgundy took turns trying to make the other bashful, his confidence rising with every clever quip and retort to her own flirtations.

Eugene wouldn’t realize until much later that he hadn’t thought once about the war the entire evening.

“I feel like I should ask,” Eugene spoke up, rousing you from your thoughts. The two of you had relocated from the dining car to the observation car. You had been correct: it was virtually empty at this time of night, and the two of you were enjoying the peace. “Where are you off to?” You gave him a lopsided smile.

“Home,” you replied. “Tallahassee, Florida. Lived there my whole life until a few years ago.”

“Florida, huh? Why we’re practically neighbors,” Eugene commented with a grin. “So how did you end up in San Diego?”

“Few years back, my older sister married some businessman from California. Didn’t even get a chance to meet the man myself before he was drafted and shipped off to Europe.”

Eugene listened intently as you told your story. You knew he understood the horrors of war more than anyone else you’d ever spoken to.

“She demanded I come out to San Diego to stay with her,” you explained. “She’s always had terrible nerves and couldn’t bear to be alone in the house. So I took the train out, got a job at a bond office, and spent my free time keeping my sister away from the radio.” You let out a sigh and let your eyes fall to your lap before going on. “By the end, we assumed he’d be coming home safe and sound. They told us he was shot two days before the ceasefire was called.”

“To say my sister was distraught would be quite the understatement. After locking herself in her room for a week followed by five months of her ignoring my existence entirely, she told me I had until the end of the week to leave. Perfect timing really, since the bond office had terminated me that morning. No more war meant no more war bonds.” You shrugged as you recalled your story, as if it wasn’t such a fresh wound. You chanced a peek at Eugene, expecting a look of pity. But instead you were met with his warm hazel eyes, expressing nothing but understanding.

“So now here I am. Headed home. No job. No man. No plans,” you finished with a wink. Eugene smiled at your quip before turning to gaze out into the darkness.

“It seems like we both deserve to just do nothing for a while,” he suggested. Doing nothing. You quite liked the sound of that.

“Inspired idea, private.”

Eugene’s warm eyes locked on to yours once again, and you swore everything stopped and fell away. Nothing mattered except the marine in front of you, his bright smile, the lock of auburn hair that had fallen out of place. He was beautiful and clever and sweet, and though you knew he was haunted by his past, you’d never hold that against him. Gosh, you knew it was ridiculous, seeing as though you’d only met the man a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that wanted to pull him into your arms and never let go. Be there to make him laugh and make sure he knew he was safe. Listen to his stories and share yours in return. You wanted to do nothing for a while, like Eugene had said, but do that nothing with him next to you.

As you continued to gaze at the handsome man before you, you absent-mindedly tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. And you swore that for a brief moment, Eugene’s eyes fell to your mouth.

You practically lept to your feet, letting out a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well, I’m going to get some shut-eye,” you announced as you collected your things. “I suggest you do the same, private. Or at the very least you should spend some time with your friends before you have to see them off tomorrow.” Eugene, seemingly confused by the suddenness of your exit, nodded a few times before finding his voice.

“Right,” he said, “Well, goodnight.”

You cringed at what sounded like disappointment in his voice. You hadn’t meant to offend him - you just got startled is all.

You offered him a warm smile. “Goodnight, Eugene.”

You spun on your heels and headed for the doorway before you could change your mind and kiss him the way you really wanted to.

Eugene didn’t get much sleep that night, but that was nothing new. What changed is what kept him up. Thoughts of his burgundy girl swam through his head most of the night. He replayed every conversation they’d had, half of the time berating himself for what he said and the other half thinking about what he wished he’d said instead.

Snafu made sure to point out the bags under Eugene’s eyes that morning at breakfast.

But Eugene didn’t pay him any mind. He was too busy keeping an eye out for the woman, hoping he could flag her down to at least wish her a good morning.

By the late afternoon, there was no sign of the woman, and Eugene, Snafu, and Burgie had moved back to a booth in the coach car. Burgie was antsy, knowing they were not far out from his hometown of Jewett. He was recalling his excitement to see his little brother again when Snafu interrupted him, tapping his hand on Burgie’s chest.

“Would you look at her,” Snafu drawled out. Eugene glanced over his shoulder to where Snafu was indicating, only to be met with the sight of the very woman who had been on his mind all day, casually walking down the aisle towards him. She had traded out her burgundy ensemble for a cream colored blouse and a navy skirt. Eugene perked up, sitting up straight in hopes of getting her attention. But Snafu was faster, rising to his feet and cutting her off. She was surprised for a moment, but a look of recognition flashed across her face.

“Afternoon, miss,” Snafu greeted as the woman eyed him warily. Then her eyes flitted over to Eugene and a hint of a smile appeared. Then she looked back at Snafu.

“Something I can do for you, soldier?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest.

“Ohh, there’s a lot you can do for me, girlie,” Snafu countered. “Hows about we head somewhere private and I’ll show you?”

Something in Eugene’s chest tightened at Snafu’s words. Sure, he had watched Snafu use line after line on any girl in his vicinity since they boarded the train. Even laughed at the man’s antics at times. But something was different about him putting the moves on his girl--or at least his friend. Acquaintance? Eugene didn’t know what the two of them were.

“Tempting,” she responded, rousing Eugene from his thoughts. “But I think I’m gonna sit and enjoy my book instead. Thank you for the offer, private.”

Snafu seemed confused -- Eugene assumed he was used to either getting the girl or getting a slap. He probably wasn’t used to getting no reaction at all. Snafu plopped back down in his seat, his brows furrowed, and Eugene chanced a look at the woman. She shot him a wink before settling in the booth directly across the aisle from the group of men and pulled out a book.

Eugene fidgeted in his seat -- his instinct was to go join her. But he respected her wishes. Maybe he’d ask her to dinner later.

It wasn’t long after you had settled into your booth that you watched Eugene say goodbye to his sergeant.

The mutual respect was evident, and the goodbye was definitely bittersweet. The normally chatty boys fell silent after he left, and Eugene’s far away look returned once again.

Eugene’s flirtatious friend then announced he was headed to the dining car to get a drink, and Eugene simply nodded, his gaze never leaving the window.

You waited until the audacious marine was clear out of the car before you shifted across the aisle to grab his empty seat. Eugene perked up immediately, sitting up and grinning.

“Afternoon, miss,” he greeted with a nod. “Sorry about Snafu before. I think he’s determined to pester every woman on this train before he gets off.”

“Oh, no apologies necessary,” you assured him with a chuckle. “I found it quite funny.”

Eugene’s eyes sparkled as he looked at you. Gosh, you’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was in the sunlight. Those hazel eyes you could just get lost in. You noticed the littlest bit of stubble had formed across his upper lip and around his jaw since last night.

Then you realized you were staring again and you quickly dropped your eyes to your lap out of habit.

“How’s your book?” Eugene spoke up, easing the awkwardness. You appreciated the gesture.

“It’s good so far,” you explained, patting the cover. “Not the most uplifting thing to read on the train, but I’m hoping it ends on a happy note.”

“What’s it about?”

You sighed as you stared at the book in your hands. “It’s about family hardships. Talks about poverty and alcoholism.” You paused to think for a moment before looking back up at Eugene with a smirk. “I don’t mind reading sad stories usually. But I can’t help but wish I’d stolen a happier book from my sister on my way out.”

That earned a chuckle from Eugene.

“Well, I--”

“Now now, what have we here?”

The two of you had been so focused on each other that neither of you had noticed that Eugene’s friend -- you remembered Eugene called him Snafu -- had returned, and was leaning against the side of the booth with a bottle of Coke in his hand.

“Thought you wanted to read your book?” Snafu continued, a playful tone to his voice. He cocked an eyebrow before taking a sip of his soda. You glanced over at Eugene to find him beet red in the face.

“Actually, I was just inviting Mr. Sledge here to grab some dinner with me,” you improvised, not wanting to have to lose your alone time with Eugene. “If he’d like.” His eyes lit up.

“I would be honored, miss,” Eugene replied, getting to his feet and holding a hand out for you. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling as you placed your hand into his and let him help you from the booth. Eugene looped your arm under his and began to lead you down the aisle when Snafu’s slow, southern dialect called out behind you.

“Oh, I see how it is. Well, don’t have too much fun, you two!”

“So what did you miss the most while you were away?”

The question surprised Eugene a little bit. It was the first time she had asked him anything that had to do with his experience in the war.

“My dog,” he replied, his eyes dropping to his half-empty plate. “Closest friend I’ve ever had. He passed while I was gone.”

She nodded in understanding, and Eugene appreciated that she didn’t offer him pity.

“Dogs really are better than humans sometimes.”

Eugene simply nodded as his gaze drifted out the window. Time passing in the pacific had been a blur, even with him keeping track of the days in his notebook. He couldn’t even remember when it was he got the letter about Deacon. Maybe it was sometime during Okinawa? It must have been. He was just so angry --

“Where do you go?” The woman’s voice interrupted Eugene’s thoughts, and he blinked rapidly as he realized he had been zoning out.

“Sorry, what?”

The woman seemed unfazed. She simply looked at him with curiosity, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“When I first saw you yesterday, you were staring out the window. Eyes glazed over, lost in thought. You’ve done it a few times actually,” she explained. “You drifted off the same way just now. So my question is, where do you go?”

Where to start? Should he sit there and detail the horrors he’d seen? How every second he spent on those islands would flash before him, his brain forcing him to relive the atrocities he’d witnessed and been a part of? And could he even begin to put into words how affected he was? Was it fair to unload his burdens on this innocent girl, who’d brought him nothing but peace since he had set foot on the train platform?

“Back there,” was all he said, hoping it would be enough. It seemingly was, as his dinner date nodded her head once again. A silence settled over the pair, and Eugene couldn’t help but kick himself. If he hadn’t gotten lost in his thoughts before, she wouldn’t have asked and they could have continued their lovely dinner.

“I’m no expert,” the woman spoke up, and Eugene’s eyes locked on to hers. “But I have a feeling it’s going to take some time for you boys to fully leave that place.” The woman leaned forward, and Eugene was struck by how warm and comforting her eyes were. “And in my humble opinion, the world shouldn’t expect you to be okay right away.”

Eugene was blown away. This woman -- this beautiful, funny, clever, smart woman, who’d never set foot on a battlefield in her life -- somehow got it. Sure she hadn’t physically seen the things that Eugene had seen, and she never would, so she couldn’t completely understand. But she respected him and what he’d been through. And not in a superficial way, like when strangers on the street would thank him for his service. But in a way that made him feel seen and heard -- without having to speak a word of the horrors out loud.

With a nod of his head, Eugene finally spoke up.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Now if only the rest of the world agreed with you.”

By the time Eugene and you walked back to the coach car, the sun had gone down completely. You could tell Eugene was beat, and you wondered if he even had slept the night before with how large the bags under his eyes were.

You tucked yourself back into your booth across from the boys, continuing where you left off in your sister’s novel.

The boys were relatively quiet next to you, and you realized after only a few moments that Eugene was out cold, slumbering against his duffle.

It soothed you to see him so peaceful. Your conversation over dinner had confirmed what you had expected to be true: Eugene could put on a face, but behind the facade he was extremely haunted by his time overseas.

It truly wasn’t fair. No one should be subjected to such horrors. Young boys with their futures ahead of them, shipped off to some foreign country, to either die or come back missing a piece of themselves? Tearing families apart and turning cities to rubble? It all seemed so pointless.

You were just one person. Just a simple girl from a small town, lost in your own life, unsure of where the path ahead would lead. But you had a loving heart and a warm embrace. And you’d give them both to Eugene, no questions asked. You could see yourself walking down that path with his hand in yours, figuring out how to navigate the future together. The thought of Eugene being there made it a little less terrifying. And you wanted nothing more than for Eugene to go through the rest of his life never feeling unsafe ever again.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when the train slowed to a stop. You watched as Snafu slowly got to his feet and grabbed his duffle from the bunk, swinging it over his shoulder. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking back at Eugene before stepping into the aisle. His eyes locked onto yours and he cocked his head back towards the sleeping marine.

“It’s rare to sleep well these days. Don’t want to ruin that,” he mumbled, clearly feeling like he had to explain himself to you. “I’m not one for goodbyes either.” You offered him an understanding nod and a friendly smile. Snafu returned your nod before heading down the aisle and out the door.

Sometimes you didn’t understand why men did the things they did. But you’d also never be able to understand the connection and camaraderie between servicemen. So you didn’t question Snafu’s decision to leave without waking Eugene.

Another hour or so had passed after the stop in New Orleans when you heard a whimper from across the aisle. Your eyes shot over to Eugene and your heart practically stopped. His eyes were closed tightly, his brow pinched, and he was gripping his own arms so hard his knuckles were practically white. He shook and thrashed in his seat, small cries escaping his lips that seemed to increase in volume each second.

You lept to your feet, throwing your book into your booth behind you before plopping next to Eugene and gently resting your hands on his.

“Eugene,” you whispered, trying not to wake him too harshly. He was clearly having a nightmare, and you didn’t know if trying to startle him awake was the right move. “Eugene, honey, wake up.”

He continued to shake, sweat forming on his forehead and his cries growing louder and louder. You moved your hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently and running your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Eugene!” you spoke louder and suddenly his eyes shot open and he sat up, gasping for air, but your hold on him prevented him from going too far. He blinked rapidly as his chest heaved, trying to get his bearings, but you continued to caress his face, murmuring affirmations to help him.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” you assured him. His big, hazel eyes were so sad as they stared into yours, and tears had begun to fall to his red cheeks. He let out a sob and you pulled him to your chest, cradling the back of his head as you wrapped your other arm around him. You held him close to you as he cried, your heart breaking at seeing him like this. You wished you could take every burden away from him. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

A few nosy guests began to peek over their seats to see what was happening, frowns painted on their faces. As if this poor man’s trauma was an inconvenience to them. You glared daggers at them, and they shied away, slipping back into their seats.

You lost track of time, absentmindedly running your fingers through Eugene’s auburn locks as you held him. You began to softly hum a melody, a song that always comforted you when you were upset. Eugene’s cries began to quiet down, and his body shakes ceased.

Suddenly, he tensed in your arms before pulling away entirely. He wiped at his cheeks roughly as he sniffled, eyes locked on to his lap. You watched him carefully, unsure of what to do.

“Sorry,” he croaked out, his voice scratchy. “I, uh -- um, thank you for…” he trailed off, gesturing towards you with his hand.

“It’s okay,” you replied timidly. You knew he was embarrassed but you wanted to pull him back into your arms and assure him that he had no reason to be. But you waited, wanting him to come to you. His brow furrowed and you could practically hear his brain thinking.

“Now I guess you can see how broken I really am,” he said after a few moments and your heart ached.

“Eugene,” you practically cried. But he didn’t respond, instead turning sharply to face the dark window and letting out a shaky breath.

A tear escaped down your own cheek, your heart stinging at the rejection. But you opted to respect his space. With a sigh, you stood and shifted back over to your booth. You didn’t bother picking up your book, instead deciding to pull your own trunk and coat down from the rack and settling against them, hoping maybe you could get a little sleep.

Eugene didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep -- he knew wait awaited him in his dreams. Instead he focused on what he could see out of the train window. The sun eventually rose into the sky, and Eugene could finally see the greenery of Mississippi just before the train crossed the border into his home state.

He hadn’t taken a moment to look over at the woman he knew was still in the booth across from him. He couldn’t bear it. He was so ashamed of her seeing him like that. And then even more ashamed at how he’d pushed her away after she had been so kind to him. She hadn’t needed to comfort him, she had no obligation to do so. Yet she held him anyway. And Eugene had thanked her with a cold shoulder.

As the train pulled into the Mobile station, Eugene’s eyes scanned the platform. He couldn’t help but smile when he spotted Sid, leaning against his car.

Eugene slid out of the booth, grabbing his duffle and throwing it over his shoulder. A small voice sounded next to him.

“Eugene?”

The marine turned to find his woman in burgundy, eyes filled with so much worry, holding out a piece of paper.

“If you want to write. You don’t have to,” she explained, her voice uneasy. Eugene could feel his chest tighten. He hated that he had hurt her, made it so that she was so unsure around him. He gently took the piece of paper from her hand, his finger brushing hers just slightly. He was so tongue-tied, he had no idea what to say to her. So he simply offered her a soft smile and tucked the paper into his coat pocket.

As he made his way down the aisle, Eugene took a deep breath. Maybe one day he’d work up the nerve to write to her. He’d explain his actions and apologize profusely for his behavior. Hope that she’d forgive him but would understand if she didn’t.

But what was the point if he was always going to be broken?

You didn’t think you missed Tallahassee. But after settling back into your childhood home, visiting some of your old haunts, and reuniting with old friends, you’d begun to realize its charm.

Now that all the men were home from the war, jobs for women were scarce. You spent most of your time helping your mother around the house or taking walks downtown. Every so often you and some girlfriends would drive down to the beach, but other than that, you didn’t get up to much.

It had been a little over two months since you’d gotten home. You would have been lying if you said you hadn’t checked the mailbox religiously -- each day hoping a letter from Eugene would arrive. You knew the two of you had parted ways rather awkwardly, and you understood if a letter never arrived. But you really hoped you’d hear from him.

You opened the mailbox, only finding some random letters for your father. With a sigh, you headed back inside the house, dropping the letters on your father’s desk before heading down the hall to your room.

You collapsed on your bed with a groan, staring up at the ceiling. You needed to get Eugene off your mind. Maybe some of your friends knew some local servicemen who weren’t spoken for.

You were lost in your musings when a knock sounded at your door. Your mother called your name from the other side.

“You have a gentleman caller, dear,” she explained through the wood. “I didn’t know you knew any marines!”

You sat up with a jolt, eyes wide. Could it be?

“Be there in a minute, ma!” you called out, rushing to your vanity. You quickly checked yourself over, fixing your hair just slightly and patting down your skirt. You cursed at how your bed had wrinkled your blouse, but you didn’t have time to fix it. And if your caller was who you thought it was, you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

You practically flung open your door, pausing in the hall to take a deep breath before stepping out.

You were greeted with the sight of Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, adorned in his uniform, standing in your living room.

Eugene’s face lit up at your entrance, a huge smile plastered across his face. You grinned as you took him in -- he was even more handsome than you remembered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write,” he said, breaking the silence. “I needed some time to get settled back home. And I figured you deserved an in-person apology for my actions.”

“Eugene, you have nothing to apologize for, I promise you,” you assured him as you took a step forward. You itched to reach out to him, but you knew your mother was watching nearby. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Eugene was here, in the flesh, in your living room in Tallahassee. You could barely believe it.

“Ma’am? Do you mind if I take your daughter out for a walk around the neighborhood? I promise we’ll be back before supper,” Eugene inquired, addressing your mother, who had been lingering in the doorway of the kitchen. She grinned as she clasped her hands together.

“As long as you promise to join us for supper, Mr. Sledge.”

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” Eugene said with a sharp nod. He turned back to you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

With a beaming smile, you looped your arm through his and let him lead you out the front door.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, soaking up each other’s presence in the warm Floridian air. You nudged his shoulder slightly.

“I was right, you know,” you spoke up.

“About what?”

“You do have a girl.”

Permanent Taglist: @queenlover05 @mrhoemazzello @johndeaconshands @sadhwstudent @theblossomknows @stardust-galaxies @im-an-adult-ish

#eugene sledge #eugene sledge x reader #joe mazzello #the pacific #the pacific fanfic #joemazzmatazz

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the-fifth-marauder03 · 4 years

Text

PAPERWORK

Bucky x reader

Notes: Please go easy on me this is my first ever smut. I'm v v sorry if it's bad but please comment and tell me what you thought. Seriously please please please comment

Word: almost 4,000

Summary: After a long mission comes lots of paperwork. Y/n had doesn't want to do paperwork, she wants to go to her room and deal with the frustration Bucky caused. She almost makes it too, if it wasn't for Bucky insisting they do the paperwork right then. What happens when he notices her acting strange?

WARNINGS: its smut so 18+ obviously. Dirty talk, rough sex, fingering. and some other stuff so if you're uncomfortable leave.

The mission was long.

What was originally only supposed to be a week-long mission to collect intel went sour and turned into two weeks then three. The first days of the mission had gone smoothly, the pair had gathered what they needed and were looking forward to sleeping in their beds. But as luck would normally treat the avengers, someone had tipped off the arms dealer that Bucky and y/n were watching him and on the last day, he sent to of his goons to kidnap the two. For two weeks they tried to coax at least one of the guards into their cell but that proved impossible, until the arms dealer's son, who was much like Phil Coulson, came to aid them. Once they were supplied with weapons and a way to the exit it took y/n and Bucky a meagre hour to take down the entire operation.

When they finally reached the quinjet y/n took the time to calm down, Bucky had been killing her for three weeks. In the beginning, it was fine she could easily ignore her mounting frustrations but every time she would calm herself down he was there to build her back up. It started small. While they were doing the surveillance part of the mission he would drum his fingers on his thigh and bite his lip and if that wasn't enough to drive y/n mad, it was his constant joking. Y/n was 100% certain that if his mouth was that dirty in a causal setting then it was just plain filthy in bed. Even while they were locked in a cell he would do things that drove y/n crazy. For the first week, he would plant his feet and pull at the door with all his might giving y/n a perfect view of his physic. When his attempts would fail he would grunt and curse up a storm. The thing that was killing her the most though was being pressed against him each night. Their captor failed to provide a bed or even a blanket and Bucky being the gentleman he is, offered to share his warmth. Y/n knew she shouldn't accept the offer, she might have done something she couldn't take back. She froze her ass off for the first half of the first night while staring longingly at Bucky's back, he looked so warm and inviting. He woke up at the beginning of her chattering teeth.

"Y/n/n, get over. You're gonna freeze doll." He'd rolled over and opened his arms for her to lay with him.

"I'm ok-k-kay James. Just a little cold that's all." Her teeth chattered, proving her a liar.

Bucky sent her a dark glare that made her relent. She could imagine him looking at her like that in a different setting. It took every ounce of the little willpower she did have left not to whimper as his arm slid around her when she settled next to him and pulled her that much closer. She was gonna go fucking feral.

Needless to say, once they reached the tower and got through debriefing, y/n wanted to go to her room, take a hot shower, and have some quality time with her toys. The debriefing took hours, Steve wanted to know every detail of what went down before he finally dismissed them. Now was y/n's chance to escape before she was questioned anymore and she was going to take it. As she rocketed out of the meeting room y/n felt a cool hand grab at her wrist and turned to see Bucky shifting slightly. "We have paperwork to finish y/n/n." He said matter-of-factly.

"James, I'm tired, I stink, can't we just do it tomorrow?" She whined.

It was too late though, the super-soldier was already dragging her down the hallway to one of the many offices. "We should do it while the memories are still fresh." He stated firmly. His tone said not to question him so y/n didn't, she let him drag her down the hallway and into an office with papers stacked neatly on a desk with two seats. That's where they sat for the next several hours.

Y/n was getting more and more frustrated the longer she had to sit in that room. Due to her abilities, she also had enhanced sense, she was able to notice everything, and right now all she could focus on was Bucky. The faint smell of the cologne he had put on during the quinjet ride as well as gun powder and a smell that was distinctly Bucky was washing over her in waves. She could see the way the muscles on his flesh hand contracted as he wrote and could hear the soft whirl of the metallic one on his left. Y/n hear the rustle of his uniform-clad legs every time he shifted. She was going to die and it would be Bucky Barnes' fault. Y/n was aware that she was flushed and she was also aware that she was so wet that she could smell herself, but her senses were much better than his. After ages of y/n fidgeting around, he looked up.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He sounded concerned.

She was startled by his voice so it took her a minute to reply with a choked out, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Bucky raised an eyebrow and leaned forward slightly, licking his lips. Y/n shut her eyes tight and took a sharp inhale, "Really James, I'm fine."

Thankfully Bucky dropped it for the time being and they continued to work in silence. This went on for another hour and a half. She would shuffle her thighs against each other to get some friction and Bucky would glance at her and she would stop, flushing even deeper.

Ultimately, Bucky had enough. "Okay y/n/n, what the fuck is wrong?"

He was standing, looking down at her with those eyes. The very eyes she had dreams about looking up at her from in between her thighs.

"Nothing James, just hot and tired." She waved him off looking back down at the paperwork in front of her.

She heard him take a step towards her, she heard him take a breath, and she heard his breath catch. She heard it all very clearly. Y/n shut her eyes hoping he would sit back down so they could just be down with this already, but he didn't. He took a deep breath through his nose and growled lowly, swaying on the spot he stood.

"Y/n/n." She wouldn't look at him.

"Y/n" He rarely used her first name. She still wouldn't look at him.

He was quiet for entirely too long, and when he spoke again he was far closer than she had anticipated, "Pretty girl."

Y/n whimpered before she could stop herself. That sounded so nice coming from his lips. Bucky wanted that sweet noise coming out of her mouth again, as many time as he could make it happen.

"Oh, babydoll if I had known," He was speaking in a low measured voice, " Is this what's been bothering you this whole time?"

Y/n was practically panting, Bucky had been getting closer to her while he was talking and now she could feel his breath fanning over where her catsuit opened. She stayed quiet, she wasn't sure if he was serious or not. Her lack an answer irritated Bucky, but he wouldn't touch her until he had her consent.

"Pretty girl if you wanted me to make you feel good all you had to do was ask me. I would love to get my hands on you. So go ahead babydoll, just say the word."

He waited, hovering just by her ear. "James." She just barely gasped out the word.

"I'm right here baby. Just say the word." He lowered his voice even more. "Just say the word, and I'll fucking ruin you."

"Yes." And he was on her.

He turned her chair around quicker than she could blink and his mouth was on her faster than she would take a breath. Y/n shoved on hand into his hair and one went to his back. Bucky's flesh hand went to the side of her throat and he paused slightly when she moaned. As he pulled back to look at her she pouted but he had something he wanted to test. He slipped his hand from the side of her neck to the front, grinning when her eyes fluttered and she craned to give him more access. "Oh, pretty girl do you like the way my hand feels wrapped around your throat?" She didn't answer, just hummed low in her throat. Having been given consent to touch her as he pleased Bucky let his irritation shine through. He applied just slightly more pressure.

"Pretty girl I asked you a question, but if you don't want to answer I guess I can go back the paperwork."

Y/n's eyes fluttered open to reveal blown pupils. She all but moaned "Yes James, your hand feels good on my throat."

He growled and smirked darkly, "Okay baby tell you what, I want you to go to your room and wait for me. I'm gonna finish this paperwork. While you wait I want you to get yourself nice and ready for me, okay?" Y/n nodded and stood as he released her. He stared down at her for a moment before running his thumb across her bottom lip. She parted her lips and sucked it into her mouth nipping it slightly. He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "And don't you dare cum." Bucky felt her whine against his thumb before he released her. He watched her with a heated stare as she made her way across the room.

When she had her hand on the handle Bucky spoke again. "Oh, and pretty girl," she turned to acknowledge him, "Use the toy that you use when you think of me." Y/n flushed even more if that was possible. The toy he was referring to was her favourite one. She'd bought it directly after her first mission with Bucky after he'd kissed her with everything in him to make sure their cover wasn't blown. That kiss had left her on edge until the end of the mission when she could go to her room and handle herself. When all her other toys failed her, she figured it was time for a new one. While searching through her favourite store's online selection she came across something intriguing, Avengers-themed toys. Being an avenger herself, she was curious to what they would look like so of course y/n clicked on the folder. Some of them made her laugh. Vision's was a small bullet with a stone on the back of it that looked like the one in his head. Tony's was a vibrator that was the same colour as his suit and its power button glowed. The farther she got the more she noticed how accurately all the toys represent them all. Natasha's was a red cock ring with a small button that looked like a black widow that vibrated when it was pushed. Y/n liked hers so she ordered one of those as well. It was a nice sized red vibrator with a design that looked like dark smoke wrapping around it. The description said that it had four settings and the highest one makes anyone see stars. Bucky's made her mouth dry up. It was a vibrator and a g-spot stimulator wrapped up in one. The button to turn it on was a red star, the body was made out of a black and metallic pattern. The metallic looked strikingly similar to the metal on Bucky's arm. So she bought it and used it often, and know Bucky wanted her to use specifically that one.

After swaying in the elevator while it rose she quickly gathered herself enough to make it to and into her room without collapsing. Once inside she pulled out a small box from under her bed and opened it to reveal what she'd affectionately nicknamed winter. Before doing anything though, y/n knew she needed a shower. She stripped out of her catsuit and turned on the shower that heated to a preset temperature, thanks to Tony's constant instalment of new tech. As y/n scrubbed herself clean her thoughts drifted Bucky, she was obviously attracted to him, but what if he didn't want more. She pushed these disconcerting thoughts aside and finished her shower, she needed relief. She quickly towelled herself off and headed back into her bedroom. As she settled into a comfortable position she grabbed winter and turned it on. Y/n started at her neck and worked her way down, she was painful turned on so it wouldn't take long for her to get herself ready. Once she reached her cunt she slowly ran the toy up and down to collect some of her wetness. The vibrations made her hum, it already felt so good and she'd barely started. Y/n brought the toy up to her clit and ran slow circles on the nub. Once she felt wet enough, y/n slowly worked the toy into herself, it felt good but she was sure Bucky would feel better. She started slow again, working herself up before getting progressively faster. Little whimpers and small moans were flowing from her now as she got closer to the edge.

"James" She could her how breathless she sounded but she didn't care. She'd been a live wire for three weeks every one of her nerves was on fire. As she felt herself on the very line on falling, y/n pulled the toy away out and away. She had her head thrown back so she didn't see Bucky leaning against a wall across from her. Y/n gave herself a minute to come down, but she was much more sensitive now. Her moans were falling much more freely now and it didn't take her long to get close again. Bucky noticed the closer she got the more she said his name. By the time she pulled the toy away from herself again y/n was practically chanting "James"

He watched calm down again before she moved the toy back to her clit. He smiled, y/m had listened to him. He silently observed her for another minute before stepping up to her bed and taking the toy from her hands. Y/n's eyes shot open and she looked up to she Bucky examining the vibrator. Bucky slowly smirked as he looked over its design.

" Pretty girl, is this themed after me?" His eyes were twinkling dangerously.

Y/n nodded, lust was so thick in her throat she was having trouble speaking.

Bucky looked like a cat who caught a canary while he lowered the toy to her clit. She withered on the bed as he applied pressure. "How long babydoll?" He quirked his brow.

"How long w-what, James?" she sounded breathless.

"How long have you wanted me to take that sweet little pussy and make it mine?" He growled as he slipped the toy inside of her, moving at an unrushed pace. Her brain was rapidly trying to keep up, between his motions and his words it was hard to place any exact time.

When she didn't answer he pushed the vibrator deeper, "Answer me, pretty girl."

She scrambled for purchase, "S-s-since our first mission together. When we had to save our cover by making out and that night you gave me some hickeys for good measure." Y/n words were jumbled and rushed.

Bucky smiled precariously and when he started talking y/n's eyes rolled back in her head. "Oh baby, I didn't give you those hickeys for good measure. I wanted to mark you up. You sounded so pretty while I did it too, trying to suppress those little sounds. God, I just wanted to lift your dress and have you sit on my cock while I did. Wanted to have you stuffed full of me as I marked you as mine." His Brooklyn accent was shining through. "Thought about it some many times baby, on so many missions, sparring too. That day when you wrapped your thighs around my head you smelled so good, wondered what you would do if I had just pulled you down on my face and devoured you through those tight fucking pants." His hand was moving the toy mercilessly now, and y/n was so close she could taste it. " All I wanted to do when you had to go on that date undercover was show him who you belong to. Wanted to fuck right on the table. Make you scream my name as you came. Sometimes when I got off I would think about fucking your face, I bet you would take me so well too. You'd look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Y/n had been right his mouth was filthy in bed. With one last flick of his wrist, y/n came, hard. She was still shaking when he pulled the toy away and leaned down to kiss her. It didn't start sweet or innocent, as soon as Bucky's lips pressed against hers he took control, and she let him. He nips at her bottom lip then smoothed his tongue over it to ease the sting. He did this twice more before pulling back and laying on the bed beside her. Before she had the chance to question hin he spoke, "I want you to sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue until you cum."

Y/n didn't have to be told twice. Once she had both legs on either side of his head she tried to slowly lower herself but Bucky wasn't having it. He grabbed her thighs pulled her hard against his mouth. He shattered any expectations she had. He was relentless, his licks were even and broad as he worked her juices into his mouth. It seemed the more he tasted the rough he became, which was fine by Y/n, that's the way she liked it. She felt him growl against her when he finally pushed his tongue into her, truly tasting her. The sound reverberated through her and she couldn't the near scream that tumbled from her bruised lips. When she clenched around his tongue he knew she was close so he doubled his effort. Bucky sealed his entire mouth on y/n's cunt and sucked harshly. She came with a moan of his name.

He let her pull back and sit back on his chest as she calmed down. When she felt the material of his tactical shirt under her she frowned. "James."

He hummed and dragged his eyes from where she was still glistening to her eyes, "Yes, doll?"

"You are wearing far too many fucking clothes." Y/n stated as she rolled off of him.

"Well, I can certainly fix that." He rose from the bed and shucked off his clothes in a matter of seconds. Y/n's eyes were everywhere at once: his arms, his chest, his thighs that she'd like to ride into the sunset. When they landed on his large member resting on his stomach, looking an angry shade of red, her mouth watered.

"Pretty girl, as much as I'd love to have those pretty lips wrapped around me I need to be inside that pretty pink pussy immediately."

"How do you want me, James?" She was asking what his preference was.

He chuckled darkly then growled "Hands and fucking knees babydoll."

She whimpered then snapped into action. Y/n flipped over and raised with her back to him. "See pretty girl, I knew you'd look good like this." He praised her as he climbed onto the bed behind her. He ran the tip of his cock through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"Please." It was short and desperate. Exactly what Bucky wanted.

"Please what, pretty girl?" He was teasing and she knew it.

"Please James, fuck me." She whined.

Bucky deemed it acceptable and slowly slid in, setting a shallow pace. He was still teasing.

"Faster." She was trying to rock her hips back into him but he had a steady hold on her hips holding her still.

"beg for it." It was clear what he wanted. Bucky wanted her desperate for him and ONLY him, not that it was much work.

And y/n begged, "Please James, fuck me faster. Please please, please. I'll do anything. Just make me yours, please." It was starting to get incoherent. Bucky was satisfied so he picked up the pace, slowly working his way up to slam into her. Skin slapping, his grunts, and her moans were the only noises filling the room. bucky twisted a hand into y/n's hair and pulled her up to his chest. He started whispering absolute filth in her ear as he fucked her deeply.

"That's right baby moan for me. You like me fucking your cunt don't you babydoll? You like the way I feel taking what I want from you? You gonna let me fuck you like this from now on aren't you baby?" His had moved from her hair to her throat. "You're gonna let me fuck you like this cause you're mine now right pretty girl? This cunt is mine now, only mine no one else's."

She could only let out incoherent "Yesses" as she got closer and closer but Bucky knew she liked it, he could feel her clenching around him. His other hand slipped down to her clit as he kept talking. "You gonna give me what I want pretty girl? Is my girl gonna cum all over my cock? I can feel ya squeezin me, baby. Go ahead baby, cum for me."

That was the final push that landed y/n right in the middle of the strongest orgasm she had ever had. When he felt her clamp down on him he followed suit, shouting her name ad he pushes in as far as he can go. After they ride out their aftershocks they collapse beside each other. Y/n closed her eyes and floated between conscientious and sleep until she felt Bucky leave the bed. She was sure he had left so she rolled over to sleep until she is startled by and cool hand and calm voice.

"Pretty girl, you have to roll over and open your legs so I can clean you up then we can sleep, okay baby?" She rolled just enough for Bucky to slip a warm washcloth in between her legs and stroke gently, cleaning her. When he was down he threw the cloth into her hamper before slowly working her under the covers. After she was under them he slid in next her and pulled her to him.

"James?" she sounded sleepy.

"Yes, doll?"

"What does this make us?" She was timid now, holding her breath for his response.

"Well, I was hoping we could be a couple." He smiled against her hair.

Y/n lets out a relieved breath, "That sounds nice James."

"Shh, we'll talk in the morning, go to sleep pretty girl." He was grinning now.

"I love you." It slipped so easily from her lips as she drifted to sleep. Bucky wasn't even sure she had meant to say but he said it back none the less and he meant it

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