#dog friendly dog centres | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lazyneonrabbitt · 3 months ago

Text

Old dog

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

Daryl is never been watched with such interest before, and it grabs his attention. But he feels like he got his order of actions wrong..

The Kingdom was a strange place.

First there was the King, with his pet tiger.

The King spoke in a strange manner, and his ever so friendly right hand too.

The Queen was a kind woman, she had shown you around and given you a roof over your head after you wandered into her lands.

The Kingdom had guards on horseback, and all its residents referred to their leader as the King.

Like a true old age Kingdom.

It was near summer when you arrived and took some time to get settled, now having your routine all worked out and were a happy new addition to the bakery.

While it meant crazy early mornings, it brought many people a good start of their day. You made your delivery rounds as the first people got up to tend to the gardens before the sun got too hot, passing then with a kind smile and a good morning wish on your way to the school building where you'd make your last delivery of the day.

You continued your daily tasks back at the bakery when a returning resident came by.

Each day he'd come by to pick up the same order, so by now it was standard to have it ready by a certain time.

Like clockwork he showed up, the gorgeous older man with his grey streaked hair that framed his bearded face oh so perfect.

You always wondered about the scar that sat around one of his sea blue eyes, but you never found the courage to ask.

You only knew his first name because the baker mentioned it once.

Daryl.

With rough, scarred hands he accepted the packaged food but remained in his spot.

"M'sorry, ya don't happen ta have sun leftovers, do ya? 'M headin' out fer a couple days 'n could use some extras." A little stunned by the sudden change in routine had you stammer a response neither of you could make out before you disappeared further into the back.

To your luck a fresh batch was just taken out of the oven, so you quickly grabbed a few buns and put them in a tea towel before moving back to the front.

"Here you go, fresh out of the oven." You smiled nervously as you held out the makeshift pouch, almost freezing as the calloused pads of his fingers brushed your skin while taking the bread from you.

With a charming as ever thanks he made his way out the door.

After the third time preparing the order for Daryl, who wasn't in town to come pick it up you were told to go take a day or two off, relax and go try and catch him come back home later during the day.

On your delivery routes and walks around the community you had caught wind of some kind of guard dog. You'd pick it up from time to time but today had been much more frequent.

You wondered what they meant. Maybe you'd ask Carol about it later.

The Kingdom was a nice place.

Each day there would be someone in the community's centre, playing some kind of instruments. Alone or in a group, it varied, but it was always nice to enjoy when you could.

You were enjoying it for so long you barely noticed the sun starting to set and Carol finding you. "Couldn't catch you at the bakery today, was told you were given the day off."

She came to sit beside you, enjoying the music and sharing a small snack she brought with you.

After a short while she got up, turning to you and offering a hand. "Come, we're gonna see something. If I have to believe the baker's words you're gonna love it."

Carol's words confused you, the thought of the baker casually talking about you with her wasn't really a happy one. Yet you followed her every step as she made her way to the front gates of the Kingdom.

"We're heading out? Without weapons or gear?" There was nothing around for you to see, confusion rising even more and edging on annoyance. Why wouldn't she just way where you were going?

You stood and watched as as she bounced on her heels with her arms behind her back. She was being all giddy about something and your mind could not come up with what on earth it could be.

Option after option ran through your mind until the guards spoke and the gates started to open.

Carol passed you a smile and raised her brows as she nudged her head towards the gate before turning back to watch.

You took a step closer to see what she was on about, and within the reach of your first step a figure came into view between the large gate doors.

"Holy shit." You stood frozen, much like those few days ago when Daryl suddenly asked for additions to his bakery order.

Despite the distance between the two of you and the low volume of your words, it looked like he heard you and gave you a smile and a small wave.

The scene before you became crazier by the second, on his shoulders a large deer that he carried without any visible strain but that wasn't all. Tied to his waist with a thick belt he lugged a tarp stacked with different hunted animals.

But something else felt off, beside the show of inhuman strength he seemed to possess.

Out from underneath his hair poked an ear, like it did sometimes before as well, although they seemed.. pointed?

His smile as well. You had seen the stubby pointed canines he had, but there were loads of people who had those slightly longer than average. Why did they look bigger now, accompanied with a similar set on his bottom teeth that surely weren't there before.

Also, was he fuzzier than normal? It was all hard to see in the dim light. It could just have been dirt stuck on his skin from being out in the woods so long. Surely he didn't bother cleaning up out there.

All the while Daryl dragged his game inside and stopped to report to Carol, glancing your way every so often as he could feel the energy radiating off you. He was enjoying the way you stared at him with confusion that slowly morphed into something he almost wanted to categorize as adoration.

It wasn't often Daryl got that look from anyone, so to say he was suddenly more intrigued by the baker woman was an understatement.

"Hey," Daryl's voice pulled you from your thoughts, staring at him without a single word running through your mind. "Wanna help unload all'a this at the butcher?"

A silent nod was all you managed as you followed him, hearing Carol say something but not entirely registering her words.

It was the next day when you saw him outside of his usual routine yet again, before the time of his usual pickup. The early summer sun was up when you made your rounds, and so was Daryl.

Across the street from the butcher’s place was a small area that used to be a children’s playground where you caught him doing pull-ups, flannel hanging open over his torso that you secretly expected to be way more toned, but instead you saw lightly furred soft flesh.

He hadn’t noticed you as you moved past to the butcher’s doorstep where you’d leave her order, quietly mumbling to yourself as you stared at Daryl again. “Lords, I want that man to fold me like a lawn chair..” You were so lost in the view of him pulling up his full weight with just one arm, his legs crossed under him, that you didn’t hear the butcher arrive until she pat you on the shoulder. “I may not be into men, but even I can see the appeal of that old dog bending me over the nearest surface.”

The sudden contact made you squeak and jump away, only to be laughed at as you stumbled over your words before running along on your delivery route.

It was only a couple of seconds after you were out of earshot that Daryl appeared on the butcher's steps, shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at the interaction he heard all too well just a moment ago. "Yer horrible, ya know tha'?" He bumped her shoulder aa he walked past her, into the shop to start working on all the kills he brought back the day before.

The butcher let out a breath through her nose. "And you love me for it, mutt." Behind her she closed the door and flipped off the hunter, sticking out her tongue behind his back. "'Course I love ya, ya crazy knife wieldin' hag."

The rest of the day after running off at the butcher went fairly normal, Daryl picked up his order and you cleaned the place alone with the baker having to leave early for a meeting.

It was only when you closed up shop for the day that it got weird. Daryl stood outside, seemingly waiting with his arms crossed under short sleeves so tight you wondered how they hadn't cut off circulation yet.

Without missing a beat he pushed himself off the wall and stepped beside you. "C'mon. Wanna show ya som'n." His gruff voice could tell you to eat dirt and you'd do it so naturally you followed suit, walking around the community until you reached the homes placed at the far end, right at the forest wall.

You took in the beat up old truck with the hood popped and one wheel missing, and next to it inside the garage with the missing door a bike that looked like it was made over years of collecting parts. Was this his home?

You followed him inside the garage, the door in the back opening and leading into a small kitchen littered with tools and materials. The tea towel you gave him the bread in laid neatly folded on the corner of the messy table, not a single grease or oil covered item near it.

In the moment of distraction Daryl's hand landed on your hip as he scooted past you in the narrow space between the counter and the table, his crotch brushing your ass in the process.

He felt you become rigid at his touch and apologized. "Sorry, doll. Place ain't made fer two."

His hand remained in its place, squeezing as he apoligized making you want to just give in to your haunting daydreams and let him take you right then and there.

"So, what did you wanna show me again?" You were fidgeting, trying to calm your nerves with Daryl so close.

"S' upstairs. Sum ol' items ya can dig through. See if ya wan' sum." With a hand placed on your hip he led you upstairs, steering you around the corner and through one of the doors, ending with your knees pressed against a bed.

Before you had a chance to ask anything one of Daryl's hands came around your front, resting on your lower belly as the other one snuck around your chest. "How 'bout ya be a good girl fer me an' lemme fold ya like a lawn chair." His beard drug across your skin as he came to bite your earlobe. "Tha's what ya want, righ'? Got all hot 'n bothered when the butcher mentioned me bendin 'er over the counter.." with one hand sneaking under your waistband and the other softly squeezing your breast he had you whimpering.

"S'fine, righ'?" His hands stilled at your silence. "Words, doll. Ain' gon do anythin' unless ya give me an okay." His hands moved to cafefully turn you around to look you in the eye, but you quickly buried your face in his chest, hands against him as well and all your body wanted was to squeeze.

Squeeze your fingers into his plump, soft chest. Squeeze your thighs together for some desparately needed friction.

You softly nodded, murmuring something Daryl couldn't make out.

"Need ta hear ya." Daryl softly caressed your shoulder, moving to tilt your head up so you'd look at him.

Your eyes scanned his face, soft and gentle. Eyes glistening a bright blue between the thick, red scarred line that cut right through an eyebrow. Your eyes wandered to his lips, partially hidden by the grey scruff that occupied the lower half of his face as you breathed. "I want this."

With your eyes on his lips you saw his concerned look change into a wicked grin that showed his pointed canines.

In a split second after that you were thrown onto the bed and caged between Daryl's limbs, his face buried in your neck as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

"Go on." He whispered. "Take 'em off. I know ya wan' it." Daryl was on his way to the hem of your shirt already as you slowly worked your hands towards the buttons of of his flannel, undoing them with trembling fingers, focus drifting away with every drag of his teeth across your flesh.

With some assistance your top halves were soon bare. Daryl's hands on your soft chest, tongue all over them as he sucked bruises to the underside.

Your fingers found his hair, pulling at the strands in pleasure as the others traced every scar on Daryl's body. From the small puncture wounds to the large gashes on his back, you caressed each one of them.

Letting out short, panted breaths your body burned wherever Daryl's fingers trailed, the rough pads leaving a path of tingling flesh from your chest down to your side, his tongue following down your body between where his hands had gone.

With the descent of his body his scarred frame moved out of reach, placing both hands in his hair and tugging as his teeth dug into your skin, earning a growl that sounded from deep in his chest.

With newfound interest you pulled again, your nails scratching his scalp in the process as your hips rolled up against his torso.

The low, scratchy moan that left him rumbled against your hip and had him quickly slide his hands down your hips. With no effort you felt your hips rise as two strong hands grabbed your ass and fabric slide off your body. Both your loose trousers and panties were shoved down the rounds of your hips as they lifted off the bed, the fabric pulled off your legs before your knees ended on both sides of your chest and Daryl's teeth were back just below your bellybutton where the meat of your folded torso met in perfect, bite-sized rolls.

You watched him litter your stomach in marks, clamping his jaw onto your thighs to color your skin in where only he could admire them.

"Daryl, please.."

Your voice had him lock eyes with you from where he sat between your legs and watched your pleading gaze with a soft nod before leaning back down and licking a broad stripe over the back of your thigh, moving to delve his tongue right into your centre.

Your moans of his name added fuel to the already raging fire, parting your lips with his tongue and drinking up all of your sweetness. With each stroke against your clit your walls clenched around nothing, muscles tensing but your body laying unmoved under Daryl's strong grip.

You squirm, hands finding his on your thighs as you whine and mewl, signaling you being close to finishing.

"Such pretty sounds, all fer me.." Daryl speaks against your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more and teasing you, making you hold back your own thigh so his fingers could join his mouth, stuffing two down your entrance with ease as he kept licking and sucking in tandem with the curls of his digits.

Your sounds increase in volume with Daryl's ministrations, crying out at your peak, clenching your walls tightly around his fingers as you finished.

"'Ere, lemme stretch those legs fer ya." With gentle hands he laid your legs flat against the bed on either side of him, allowing the blood flow to return while you came down from your high.

You watched him with hazy eyes, on his knees between your legs tugging at the button and zipper of his black jeans. Beneath the oh so inviting trail of dark hair he lowered the layers still on him to reveal his thick, hard cock.

Your view was close to perfection, a gorgeous old man between your spread legs. The lines of his body like rings on a tree, showing signs of age and survival. From the scar at his collarbone, at the edge of the soft dusting of chest hair down to his thick strong legs he was removing his clothes from he was like a piece of art for you to admire as you desired.

And gods, you desired him.

"Ya look like ya wanna eat me alive." He looked down at you, one hand running through his hair while the other slowly stroked his cock.

You licking your lips as you stared at his impressive length was all he needed to ler himself fall forward and catch himself right before he'd make contact with you, calmly catching your lips in a deep kiss. With your tongue against his lips you asked for more and he obliged almost immediately, parting his lips and swiping his tongue against yours, lips moulding together in percect harmony until you desperately needed air.

Your hand lingered on the side of his head, thumb caressing the scar around his eye.

"What's the story on this one?" Daryl couldn't get enough of that look on your face. The one filled with curiosity, not a speck of fear or disgust on you.

"Old girlfrien' decided she didn' like me no more." He averted your gaze as he remembered the fight in the cabin back then, and the serrated edge of the knife catching the skin of his face. He deliberately left out the terms his then lover called him as she chased him out the door with a shotgun. That was a tale for another time.

Right now all he wanted was to ravish the woman underneath him.

The setting sun caught his eyes and for a fraction of a second they seemed to glow, icy blue in a sea of black. When they looked back at you it was gone, a pair of normal blue eyes looking at you.

He shook off the memories and brought his focus back to the now, to you underneath him, the scent of your arousal, and his painfully hard cock.

Daryl adjusted his position, his length rubbing your folds in the process earning a soft moan from you.

"Gonna make more o'them pretty noises fer me, doll?" His hand reached for his member and rubbed the tip between your folds, spreading your wetness around, listening to your soft mutters of "yes" and "please".

Daryl needed no more convincing, nuzzling your noses together before kissing you deeply as he slowly inches himself inside of you. The initial stretch hurt and you couldn't help but groan into the kiss at how big he was. His cock was way girthier than just two fingers, and it had been years since your last time before this.

Daryl's hand moved down your body, slowly rubbing your clit to distract from the stretch. His kisses deepened, your tongue sliding past his teeth, feeling around his fangs with fascination.

A soft whimper sounded from you as he bottomed out, making him halt a moment to let you adjust. "Ya tell me when yer good, 'kay?"

You nodded and answered a soft "uhuh." and a bit later, after a few experimental squeezes you told him you were good.

With his hand still on your hip Daryl carefully pulled back and slid inside at a slow and steady pace, letting you get used to him for a few thrusts until your heels came up to dig in his rear.

"Hmhm, eager are we?" Daryl grinned against your neck, taking the hint and quickening his pace. His hands had your hips in a bruising grasp, his hips snapping against yours earning soft gasps on each impact.

"H.. hah.. ah Daryl fuck--" you were a beautiful piece beneath him, with your head thrown to the side, arm covering your eyes and chest heaving and shaking with each thrust.

"So good, doll. So pretty for me." Daryl was huffing out a laugh, moving his hands off your hips to grab at your lower legs. Deep, short thrusts continued as he moved your legs from around him back to up beside your torso, knees pressed against your shoulders as he fucked into you with your ass up off the matress.

He was so deep all of a sudden it had you see stars, crying out his name aa your orgasm crashed down on you.

You were sweating all over, breaths deep to get enough air and body heavy. With your eyes closed you laid still, getting the air back into your lungs as Daryl teased you by softly rutting into your overly sensitive cunt.

"Don' tell me yer tired already, I haven't even finished yet.." His thrusts changed angles and now brushed your clit, having you mewl out pleas he chose to ignore. "Tha's more like it, music, those sounds o' yers." His thrusts continued, as did your pleas. You didn't even know what you were begging for but the knot in your belly was quickly returning in time with his thrusts getting sloppier, not long after crying out again as you came a few thrusts before je did too.

There were tears rolling down your face, laying limp on the bed. Daryl's hands had let go of your legs again, letting you stretch them for thr short moment before he was fully hard again.

Unexpectedly Daryl flipped you onto your stomach and moving your hips around to his preference.

"Time fer round two?" He wached you nod wit your face in the pillows, moving to slowly press inside you once more and bending down to press soft kisses to your back. Your mind went back to being hazy a few thrusts in with how good his cock felt at this new angle fist gripping at the pillows beneath you that muffled your moans.

His hands were all over your backside, kneading every soft surface he could reach as he continued his steady pace.

Your sounds were like music to his ears, wishing to hear them every night, over and over again until your throat was so soar he had to bring you medicine and nurse you back to health. Your curiosity was already enough to make him want you, never having anyone radiate such a type of energy towards him and it has him hooked. But having you here like this now had him almost addicted, wanting to keep you, claim you but he knew he didn't have the right to do so. He didn't deserve it, for he was sort of still lying to you about large aspects of his life.

But if he could make you feel this good now in this moment, that was all he cared about.

He fucked you from behind until you came once, twice and then moved you onto your side, holding onto one of your legs against his chest as je continued rutting into you, earning two more orgasms from you right before finishing himself for the second time.

As he came down from his high he stared at you, passed out and asleep beneath him. Ever so carefully he moved you so he could lay down as well, pulling you against his chest as he settled to drift off too.

It was morning by the time you woke up, groaning in pain as your legs resisted being moved off the bed. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and shot up off the bed. "Ah, god damn oww.." Your ass hit the matress again, the crunchy layer of dried fluids scratching your thighs.

"Oh for fuck's sake I'm gonna be late!" You stumbled around the place searching for the shower to scrub yourself clean, picking up your shirt off the floor and sniffing it. "Nope, can't wear that. Shit!" You found the bathroom and were vigorously scrubbing your legs and quickly back to digging through all of Daryl's drawers in a panic, trying to find something decent to wear.

"Ya know ya can just ask, right?" You didn't even register what he said and grumbled back at him. "I don't have time, okay? I'm already gonna be late for work and I got nothing to wear because my own clothes stink so I'm gonna have to run home first and be even later."

Face down in a drawer your attention was pulled by a short whistle, and the second you were up and turned towards the noise an entire outfit found your face.

Underwear, socks, simple sweats and a flanel.

"Why do you have a stash of women's clothes?" You were genuinely curious but that didn't stop you from struggling to put on the clothes with your entire body aching. "I don't even know how I'm gonna walk my rounds. Everything hurts.."

You were already dreading today and it had barely even started.

"Need me ta make yer rounds? Got time so I don' mind." Daryl was following you down the stairs now, hands ready to catch you as you stumbled, not wanting you to fall.down the stairs on your wobbly legs.

"No way I'm letting you do my rounds. I don't want the whole community on my neck tomorrow about why I sent you." You were halfway out the door already, walking as fast as possible and waving Daryl off on your not so fast way to work.

You arrived late and got told off for it, but the baker quickly changed his demeanor once he saw you limp. He gave you a quick rundown of what he had planned to do at the bakery and let you stay in as he took over your rounds, which you were very thankful for.

The front door bell rang and Carol appeared, a while after Daryl had dropped by for his usual, and bringing in a bag with your clothes.

"Hey, didn't see you this morning." Carol was as cheery as ever, her hair braided and her smile kind and motherly.

"Yeah," you leaned against the counter, wincing as you moved your weight. "Hurt my leg yesterday, so I'm in here thr whole day now." You tried to shrug it off, not feeling like coming up with a decent enough lie. Not that you needed one anyways.

"Which clearly has nothing to do with you spending the night at Daryl's place?" A knowing smile spread on her face as she looked you up and down, arms crossed over her chest, laughing as she watched your eyes about to pop out of your head in response. "You're wearing my emergency clothes. Looks like we have about the same size."

You felt blessed with today being a quiet day and could clean while you chatted with Carol and closed up shop after, with the baker off again while you ran the bakery.

"There's something wrong with that man." You sighed as you bent down to lock up the garage door, groaning as you came back up. "He's like, what? Almost sixty? And he still held out longer than me. I swear I passed out once before he was done."

Carol was giggling all the way with your bags in her hand. "He's fifty-four, but alright."

"Yeah, okay. That fifty-four year old would have kept going if I hadn't clocked out after lord knows how ma--"

"Five, doll." Daryl's voice suddenly behind you had you jump up and almost fall if it wasn't for his quick response to steady you.

"How the hell are you fine?" Your question was directed at Daryl, but your eyes were on Carol who was having the time of her life seeing you be so confused about her best friend's energy levels.

"There's a lot about Daryl you don't know yet, dear." She winked at her friend, who only grunted in response.

"Oh really? When are you planning on telling me all about yourself? Do I need to cook you a romantic dinner?" Your words came out with way too much excitement, letting out how eager you were to learn about Daryl.

"Ya'll learn eventually. No need ta rush things, righ'?" His voice kept cool, but Carol read his body language like a book and quickly saw he needed help to cross that line. Him scratching the side of his fingers, and obsessively wiping the hair out of his face, eyes looking everywhere but at you. They were all tells, and Carol felt bad for him.

"Why don't you two stay over for dinner? Ezekiel won't make it home in time so I'd be all alone otherwise." Carol quickly set up a plan, making it all seem like coincidence but in her mind she had all the steps figured out already.

"I'd love to stay over, but only if it's not too much effort." Peeking past Daryl you saw her wave your assumption off and assure it was fine.

And thus you three ended up around Carol's nice dinner table in the King's home.

Somehow you expected it to be fancy and pristine, but that would never happen with how selfless the King was.

The food was nice and Carol had gifted you some stronger painkillers she had laying around to ease your body, you all just chatted about your day, and you thought your subtle questions about him were going okay, until Daryl excused himself to go smoke what seemed in a hurry.

"It's okay honey, Daryl has a hard time opening up to people. He needs to find the right moments to talk." Carol gave you a loving shoulder squeeze and pointed you towards the back door where Daryl had just left through.

"He loves the forest, he feels safe there." With a wink she sent you off.

You carefully approached him and settled in the doorframe. "Hey," Your voice was soft as to not startle him. "Wanna go for a walk? Outside the walls."

With a nod he got up and offered you his hand to take, and with a sigh he let a smile come through. "Carol really set us up, didn't she?"

You laughed along with him and decided then you wouldn't push him, and let him talk at his pace.

With your gear gathered the two of you found yourselves walking along the tree line in silence.

"M' sorry." Daryl kept his eyes on the ground where he walked, but with his pinkie he touched yours and hooked them together.

"When Carol brought ya to welcome me back after the huntin' I was confused. But when I felt yer curious stares instead of gettin' negative 'n scared I got.." He fell quiet, his hand pulling away from yours but you quickly grabbed it fully, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

But you stayed quiet, and just walked with his hand in yours.

After a long stretch of only hearing the ground crunch under your shoes Daryl stopped.

"S'where I stay when I go out each month." You stood a few feet away from a rock wall, overgrown with green and a small clearing in it. Looking around you there was no way of being seen here from any angle.

You also saw trees with torn off branches and what looked like deep claw marks. "Should'a shown ya 'fore last night."

You looked over at him and made sure he saw you smile. "You really think anything would have changed my mind?" Your hands came up to his face to hold his gaze on you, hoping he'd see the truth in your eyes.

"I know yer not lyin'. Ya haven't lied since we started talkin'." His hand moved to touch the small of your back, the other one gesturing at the overgrown wall. "C'mon."

Daryl had his knife ready as he moved past some hanging vines with your hand in his to keep you close.

The area was void of any dead, except for the picked clean bones covering the ground.

And the seemingly random pile of fabrics and signs of humans staying here.

He let go of your hand and let you wander around, staring at every little thing.

You kneeled down off to the side, getting up to move some vines to let in more light before walking back.

"You stay here?" Your fingers traced the print in the sand, glancing over at Daryl who was slowly stepping closer with calculated steps, like a true huntsman would to not startle an animal.

Quietly he leaned down next to you, and without saying a word moved his hand to the print in the loose sand.

The world went blurry around Daryl's hand as you watched it change. Muscles under the skin warping to reshape as flesh darkened and nails grew, and then fit perfectly into the indentation.

Daryl was hyper aware of everything around him, senses almost overwhelming him as he felt the worms crawl under the earth and heard the birds fly over outside. But even with his senses running on overdrive he couldn't find a single negative feeling coming off you.

You stared at his hand, now more a claw and it felt like everything suddenly made sense.

His strength, the way he heard things from so far off, his way of using terms that didn't make sense and that strange glow in his eyes.

Daryl's mind kept showing you running away, crying as he got closer each time.

Instead, there in the small cave like structure he called home once a month, you reached out your hand and placed it on top of his changed one.

"I don't regret being curious." Your shoulder rested against his, slowly easing into more contact. "And I'm still happy I went home with you, and came here to see this. To see you." Your weight was now entirely resting against his side, and for the first time since he sat down he dared to look at you.

You, who laid comfortably against his side.

"I'm honestly kinda glad you showed me this." You watched Daryl raise his brows at your words. "Suddenly your strange but interesting things make sense. Kinda obvious for someone to be so strong, or have glowy eyes when they're not human."

Your hand gave his a comfortable squeeze. "I hope you'll show me all of this you one day." With a finger pressed to his knuckles you moved your head to kiss his cheek.

"Close yer eyes fer a minute." Daryl moved to stand after he kissed your head, moving behind you.

Noises filled the air. Clothes being undone and landing on the floor.

And then cracking. Tearing and groaning. Coughing and growling, a thud that acompanied a shove against your backside that almost made you turn around, but je asked not to, and you were going to respect his wish.

Once the noises died down and all you heard was deep breathing you opened your eyes again, staring straight forward as you waited. Waited for something to signal it was okay to turn.

That something was a press against your shoulder, a press and a huff of air against your exposed neck.

From the edge of your vision a nose peeked, making you turn and stare right into his scarred eye.

"Wow." It caught you off guard and you stubled backwards just a small bit, staring and laughing at yourself for falling on your ass. "Okay. Big guy. That's ..wow."

You followed his movements as he walked into your view. And you recognised him. All ofrhe features that made Daryl look like himself changed along with him, from the dark, shaggy mane to the scar and beard. Even his tattoos were spots of darker fur, especially clear on the lighter areas.

But, still..

"Wait. So Carol knows about," you wildly gestured at his entire self. "you know, this. She's seen you? And what about the butcher? That comment of hers, she knew."

You gasped in realisation. "You were testing me! You could hear us, you were there on purpose oh my god."

Daryl only sat and listened to your rambling. If anyone had asked him how he envisioned this scene to go, he would have never guessed this to be the way. Not that he was complaining or anything, he liked this.

He liked you, and you liked him too, even in this shape.

With a tap to your hand and his paw covering his eyes he asked you to look away once more, changing back to his human self and getting dressed before coming to press a kiss to your temple. "So, ya sure this's all fine?"

You stood up to join him at eye level. "You're either the most dense man ever, or are still convinced you don't deserve love just because you're different." Your deadpan look spoke more than needed.

"Yeah, alrigh'. Sorry." He shook his head in apology.

"You literally just turned into a goddamn werewolf." You paused. "Wait. That is correct, right? You're a werewolf? I mean, I don't wanna assume and be wrong, or offensive.."

He kept his head low but nodded, telling you were correct in your observations.

You stepped into his space and peppered his face with kisses, grabbing his hands to fake a sense of chaining him to you and it worked. He let himself melt into you and accept your affection.

Your love.

"Let's go home?"

With a nod he stepped back go retrieve your items. "Yeah. Home's good."

The walk home was silent, only sporadic and very random questions with short and simple answers.

Only when he dropped you off at home he spoke full sentences again. "I wan' ya t'move in with me."

You shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, okay. But we gotta clean the place first."

With a nod he agreed and let you go for the day. Only a week later moving the last of your items into his home after strategically cleaning and rearranging his home to accomodate two people.

That night, in bed all cuddled up together after a shower, Daryl pressed his lips against your jaw and uttered three simple words.

"I love ya."

A/N: Okay yeah damn that became way longer than I originally planned. But it wad fun! Hope you enjoyed it~

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl smut #daryl x reader #twd #twd daryl #twd x reader #the walking dead #twd smut #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

479 notes · View notes

mioons · 6 months ago

Text

“i don’t think i could stand to be — where you don’t see me”

pairing. hyung line x fem. reader

genre. fluff, est. relationship wc. 658 warnings. skinship + jealous enha + not proofread (don’t we love it)

— where they think not being your centre of attention is the worst feeling ever. so he goes to fix that. extra: i feel alpha after i write about jealous guys 🐺

LEE HEESEUNG would be annoyed to say the least. he wouldn’t hide the fact he was annoyed either. the moment he saw some guy trying to get all over you, he hurriedly rushed to take his spot right beside you, snaking an arm around your waist, squeezing it.

“hey baby, who’s this guy you’re talking to?” he asked, looking at the guy with a death glare though his tone sounded so friendly.

“oh nothing, he just wanted my number cause we’re in the same class,” you replied, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“you still need her number pal?” heeseung would ask. the guy immediately shook his head and ran off in a fury, “good thing he knows his place hm?”

SIM JAEYUN would be trying his utmost best to steer your attention away from some unknown guy who didn’t even deserve an ounce of your attention. kissing your cheek while you were talking to the guy, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear; making you all flustered you couldn’t even hold a proper sentence. making sure that guy knew that you already had someone. aka him.

“you smell so sweet baby, like that rose i gotcha the other day,” he would murmur against your neck, his eyes glaring at the guy who was trying to hit you up.

immediately, the guy suddenly said he “had plans” and rushed off, leaving him alone with you.

“why’d you do that?” you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, running your fingers through his locks.

“just doing what a boyfriend should do.”

PARK JONGSEONG hates it. he hates seeing another guy talk to you. that thought alone made him sick to his stomach. if he had a choice he’d go right up to the guy and give him a bruise; a warning.

he’s stand behind you like a guard dog protecting its owner— a bodyguard protecting his principal. his hand never leaves your waist, gripping it firmly to show who you were with but not too hard to hurt you. no he could never hurt an angel such as yourself.

you couldn’t see jay’s expression but it was one of annoyance and vex. can’t this guy just go away so jay could have you all to himself?

if knives could shoot out of eyes the guy would be dead by now. seeing how jay was so intimidatingly staring at the guy, he scurried away and left.

“why’d he leave so suddenly?” you ask as you tilted your head upwards to look at your boyfriend.

“mm not sure baby, you’re too cute for anyone to resist.”

PARK SUNGHOON would be the most petty guy in the world. the moment he saw another guy getting close to you, his blood boiled. why are you talking to another guy when you have him? the park sunghoon?

the moment you go up to him, he rolls his eyes at you and scoffs, his arms folding themselves in front of his chest.

“back from talking to your other boyfriend i see?” he remarks and turns his head to the right, looking away from you. you tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you try to get him to face you, “hoon, was it about that guy i was just talking to?”

he pauses for a moment before nodding his head and turning his head to face you, his arms unfolding themselves and going to cup your cheeks, “am i not enough for you pretty girl?”

you pout and rush forward to hide away your reddening face into his chest, the cool leather fabric rubbing against your skin—making you feel comforted since it belonged to your boyfriend.

“you know i’d never leave you for another, in fact i think you’ll be the one to leave me for someone else,” you chuckled before pulling your face away and resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

and to sunghoon that was the only reassurance he needed.

luvlyhee 2024

#enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung fanfic #heeseung fluff #heeseung drabbles #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake drabble #jay fluff #jay fanfic #jay drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fanfic

664 notes · View notes

lleldey · 2 years ago

Text

The Deepest Marks of Essence

Description: When you found yourself circled by a tribe, you never thought it would lead you to tap into your deepest wants and desires. You are the oldest child, the example of how one should act at all costs, but if you ever manage to escape this maze and if your story ever becomes told, you’ll never be looked at the same. But it’s hard to regret it when your nights are spent with gentle caresses and starry midnight skies. You got everything you secretly longed for, but at what cost?

Warnings: a tribe, use of weapons, yelling, mentions of wounds-blood, JK is a yandere, mentions of people dying/killing, smut, use of psychedelics, if I missed any, please give me a shout!

Word Count: ~18.7k

One-shot..?

A/N: Ha, this is a logner one, but I hope you enjoy it, also it’s not proofread (yet) ! ; it’s centred on world-building and MC’s emotions/feelings, so, friendly suggestion, I’d say feel it through, even if it takes a bit longer, that way it will make more sense :)

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

“Remind me, why do I ever listen to your crazy ideas?” you huff and shoot daggers to your way too happy brother. Spending vacation in midst of a jungle was never your idea, but your brother kept nagging you, and you’re sure no one would be able to refuse his big, puppy-dog, begging eyes.

“Because you love me,” he cheekily sends you a wink, “and also, this is fun!” he happily throws his hands in the air, “Listen to the nature, feel the breeze, the fresh air.” He dreamily closes his eyes, all while you’re close to throwing a rock at him.

You’re tired, the backpack keeps digging in your shoulders, there’s a small rock in your sneakers, and mosquitos keep biting your sweaty skin. You keep reminding yourself the hike will soon be over, judging by the markers on trees you’ll be happily back in the comfort of your car in an hour.

Taehyung opens one eye, and disapprovingly shakes his head, “You’re no fun,” slightly offended you shoot back, “And you need to find friends, this is the last time you’ll ever get me to do this.” High pitched buzz nears your ear, and you unhappily swat another mosquito.

“Jesus’, Bee, look how tense you are. Perhaps I need more friends, but you surely need a boyfriend,” annoyed, by both his words, and the overused childish nickname, you roll your eyes, looking at your younger brother unimpressed, “Or perhaps a one-night stand?” he presses his lips, holding in his laughter all while you slap his neck traumatized by the change in topic.

You’d like to keep your love life solely to yourself, and as far away from your brother’s praying eyes as possible. You refuse to acknowledge the hidden truth in his words, always being a bit jealous of his lifestyle; loving with no strings attached, diving into the moment, and letting one’s mind free. Something that you, the oldest child, and a woman, cannot afford to do.

But that’s your secret to keep, sure that if he ever got to know of it, he’d never let it go. Silently, you follow his lead while he giggles in front of you. “You’re missing the beauty of life, open your eyes and be free” he exaggeratedly points, and you stare at him, wondering if he managed to get stoned while you were busy fighting mosquitos.

You open your mouth ready to reply, but your words catch in your throat, as you come across a lookout, trees clearing a patch to see the beauty of the jungle; treetops swaying in the wind, mountainy greenery shining in the warmth of the sun.

Taehyung whistles besides you, both of you stunned from the beauty in front, “Take a picture of me,” he hits your arm, all while not taking his gaze from the scenery. You grab your phone while he runs closer to the edge to pose.

“I’m not sure if this is the best way to spend battery in the middle of nowhere,” you mumble and note how your phone is still out of service. When you look up, your breath shudders and you hiss, “Don’t stand so close to the cliff,” Tae only gives you a cheeky smile and poses while flexing his muscles. Apparently, you’re the only whose been taking notes of the warning signs all around.

“Aw, is my big sissy worried about me?” he coos, and you roll your eyes while clicking the photo. You go to check the gallery, but his cocky words make you look up, “See, it’s safe,” he takes a step closer to the edge, and your previously stiff shoulders go rock hard.

It’s a matter of a second, he looks over the edge of the mountain, and in a blink of an eye, he trips and the ground beneath his feet crumbles. You don’t even manage to scream, one second, he’s looking how steep the slope is, and the next he’s falling.

Your body moves on its own accord, and you lay pressed to the ground, looking over the edge trying to find him. Panic leads your body, and without a single doubt in your mind you run alongside the edge, trying to find a place to rush down the mountain.

Branches cut your skin, but you don’t stop and run down the steep hill, calling his name, hoping to god he’s all right. Your feet fail you, and your body goes tumbling down the hill, stopping only when you crash into a tree.

You groan at the impact, and press your hand against your head, curling in due to the pain. Your palm is stained with blood, and you feel dizzy when you try to get up, pressing most of your body weight against the tree.

“Tae?” panicked, your voice breaks and lips tremble. All you see is greenery all around you, hopelessness seeps under your skin, and you realize – you’re all alone, hurt, and in the middle of nowhere.

Hanging onto the last bit of sanity, you fish out your phone, and sigh in relief when it turns on, only screen suffering the impact of your fall. But your relief is short lived, there’s still no zone. You look back up the slope, the trees stretch across the horizon, and you know there’s not a chance you’re leaving your little brother behind, you have to find him.

Perhaps it’s the adrenaline, but you don’t feel pain, only discomfort as you keep wandering the jungle. “Tae, where are you?” you shout as loudly as you can, hoping against all odds he’s conscious.

There must be an angel guiding you, as you swear you hear something down the hill. Doing your best to speed up your steps, you rush towards the sound, looking all around to make sure you don’t miss him lying somewhere.

The first thing you see, is a bruised hand reaching up to grab a branch, and once you hear your name echoing with the wind, relief floods your system and you run towards him, not caring if you fall.

“Oh my god, Tae!” you fall in his embrace, ignoring how he grunts when you throw yourself in his arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for being alive,” you press his cheeks together and search for injuries on his body.

That seems to be an easier task than to find none – his clothes are fully teared up, skin dirtied in mud, and blood seeping from his skin, but once you detect that there’s only nonlife-threatening injuries to the eye, your relief turns to rage.

“What the hell were you thinking,” you shoot him daggers, and hit his chest, “You’re a complete idiot!” he doesn’t fight your attacks, only presses his head against the tree trunk.

“What are we supposed to do now?” His trembling voice awakens you, and you press your lips together, “Can you walk?” he winces once he puts weight on his leg, which on further inspection looks in an unnatural position. His hiss tells you as much, but you help him stand up, no other option running through your mind, you’re not about to leave him here.

You wrap your arms around his body, and help him take a step forwards, “This is pointless, you don’t even know where we’re supposed to go,” he hisses with a labored breath. You choose to ignore his statement, praying that there’s another group of idiots wandering the jungle.

Soon you’re dripping in sweat, carrying most of his body weight; ignoring your own pain turns out harder than you hoped it would be. You don’t take your eyes off of the sky, it being your only source of solace, but when it starts to turn darker and Tae keeps grunting in your ear, you finally decide to stop.

Carefully, you rest him against a tree and grab your phone hoping that the signal might appear. But when the bar is still the same, you turn to Tae asking for his phone, “Lost it, when I fell.”

You try to keep yourself together, be the responsible one to whom everyone turns for help, but truthfully, you’re close to falling apart. You’ve been stumbling in wilderness for too long, and you’re painfully aware that the time is closing in on you.

In matter of minutes, you’ll be the prey for darkness, and as beautiful as the jungle is, it’s also home for predators waiting to sink their teeth in your skin. With every scrunch of a leaf, you search for the hidden animals, praying, that this isn’t the way you go. And if it is, you swear, you’ll haunt your brother till the end of times.

You open your barely standing backpack, and throw a protein bar at him, if you know one thing, you’ll need strength to survive this night. You’ve no sense of direction, hopelessly stumbling near the hill, hoping there’s a way to go up.

Tae starts to refuse the snack you’ve thrown, but one dark glare thrown his way shuts him up; he understands this situation is his fault, and now is not the time to cross his older sister. You rest your head against the tree, and try to gather strength to carry on, but at this point, even the birds have silenced their chirps, no sense of life surrounding you.

But when all hope seemed to be extinguished, a thud, like a stone being thrown, sounded behind you, and not even a second later a swarm of birds flew over your head. Both of you freeze, and you train your ears to the direction of the sound, wondering if an animal has already noted you as their prey, or perhaps~

Dare you even wish, is that a person?

You look backwards and try to see anything from the depths of trees, and you swear you heard soft whispers. Your body surges with a newfound sense of survival, and you quickly turn to Taehyung, “I think I heard someone,” He skeptically looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze, trying to hear something more.

Silence welcomes you, no words heard, but still hanging onto the last bid of hope, you convince yourself that every branch break comes from someone. Quickly, you turn to him once more, and shove your backpack in his arms.

“There’s someone there, wait for me here,” but he grabs your hand and looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind, “That could be an animal, don’t.” but you shake your head, even if it is an animal, you’d rather die trying.

“But what if it’s not?” he stops and stares reluctant, “Here, take this,” you press your phone in his hands, he furiously shakes his head and desperately tries to catch your gaze, “Just in case. Wait here, I’ll come back.” You promise, but you’re not sure if that’s one, you’ll be able to hold.

You might be walking into a den of a predator, but that’s a chance you’re willing to take. Before you submit to your fate, you embrace your brother and hold him close, hoping that the angel looking after you, will not leave you this time around.

Squaring your shoulders, you turn to where the sound came from and carefully go towards it, quietly enough to hear if it comes around once more. You’re clumsy with your steps, half dragging your legs, but the further you go, the more on edge you feel, every little sound feeling like an upcoming attack.

Just when you’re about to turn around, you hear it~

Adrenaline courses through your system and you close to run towards the sound, perhaps if you were less desperate you would have waited, listened more, and checked if there’s no danger, after all, you are a woman estranged in depths of nowhere.

But once you see shadows of people, you can’t help but scream as loud as possible, only thought running through your mind – you’re saved.

The group of people stop, and alarmed turn towards you, shouting something back, but you’re too elated on seeing a live soul, that you don’t stop to overthink that’s not a language you recognize, and even less so the clothes they wear.

“Help! You have to help me!” breathless you cry out, all while stumbling closer to them, “My brother, he’s injured! We got lost, please help us,” their shouts only increase, but you run closer, deaf to their aggressive tones.

You stop only when the first spear lands near your legs.

Alarmed, you look up, and take in the situation you unknowingly put yourself into. Around fifteen men circle you, their hands threateningly hold up weapons aimed at you, faces stoic and lips shouting words you cannot comprehend.

Your knees tremble once you realize the danger, and slowly you put your hands in the air, flinching at every shout directed at you. With shaky eyes, you look over every man circling you, but the weapons facing you only make you shrink in on yourself further.

The words they shout are foreign, and one look at their clothes makes you realize just what you’ve stumbled upon. Looks like your angel has truly left you estranged, as you’ve stumbled up on the deadliest pack of predators you could’ve.

A tribe, a group of wild, uncontrolled individuals that live by their own rules and fears. A group of individuals who see you as a treat. Your knowledge of them is sparse, but one thing you do know – keep away from them at all costs, and if you ever stumble up on them – run.

But running isn’t an option now, no matter the situation you're in, you know you won't get through the night without their help. That is, if they let you take as much as a step towards them, before they pierce you with their bows and spears.

Your hands tremble in fright, and you assess the group around you; they point their weapons at you, not a single ounce of sympathy present, just blind rage and fear. Slowly they start enclosing in on you, alarmed you turn your head in all directions, till your sight lands on a man right before you, not shooting daggers at you, or even more so – not holding any weapons. Just looking at you with scrutinizing eyes.

With hands still in the air, you don’t break eye contact with the man, and quietly start all over again, “My brother is hurt. And we need help.” You keep your voice calm, even though every nerve in your body is working overtime. But your voice doesn’t calm the situation at hand, from your peripheral vision you see someone jumping closer to you, pushing their dagger dangerously close to your skin, probably trying to scare you away.

You close your eyes, and repeat what you’ve already said, hoping that the language is easy enough for them to understand. But as much as you’d like it to be true, you doubt they understand single word coming out of your mouth, their shouts continue to increase, even after you quieten your voice.

Desperately you lock your gaze with the man in front, his eyes burn your skin, but he’s the only one who doesn’t shout or threaten you; “Please” you whisper, overwhelmed, your eyes fill with tears.

He doesn’t move, only carefully observes you; he scans your trembling body, the longer he looks, the more his eyebrows furrow, and with each passing second you feel as though your last hope is dying out. Before he manages to join the rest in their hatred towards you, you overstep every violent shout of common sense, and quickly step closer to him.

The yells all around you increase to a deafening volume, and you see how the man in front of you freezes in caution. Perhaps you should back away and leave the terrified group alone, but the fear of your brother being hurt combined with you both being tired and lost only serves to increase your growing panic, all sensibility lost – your body driven by impulse.

You don’t know what you were thinking, wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t thinking at all, but in a matter of second, you grab his hand, and hold it tightly in your arms.

If beforehand your every movement caused a burst of shouts and energy, now it turned deathly silent. His muscles contract under your touch, but you don’t let him pull away, rather bring his hand closer, intertwined with your own, over your heart.

Your actions bring panic back to life, but before they manage to grab you, the man in front of you raises his other hand, and as if following a silent command, everyone stops their movements. He doesn’t break your eye contact, and you’re sure, if not for his authority, you would’ve been a goner.

“Hurt,” you softly whisper, but his eyes continue to search yours, so you try again, and bring your intertwined hands to your forehead, where the bleeding gush from the fall marks your skin, “Hurt.”

A flash of understanding lights his eyes; you see it in his face, he recognizes what you’re saying, and against your better judgment, hope slowly starts to return. You move to point backwards where Tae awaits you, but all it takes is for you to break eye contact, for his hold to tighten around your hand.

Alarmed you turn back, painfully aware now is not the time to scare-off the only person who seems willing to listen. “Hurt” you point backwards, his eyes follow where you’ve pointed, but he doesn’t move, his gaze simply returns to yours, as if awaiting your next movement.

“Help,” you point behind you, but he seems satisfied staying where you’re at now. His hand goes to smooth down your, surely, nest of a hair, with slight intrigue enjoying the smooth texture.

He doesn’t seem bothered by your presence, taking his time, and exploring your features; but the longer you spend under his analyzing gaze, the darker it gets, and the alarming thoughts of your brother being unarmed and under natures free will leaves you antsy.

You don’t want to come off as rude, and scare them once more, but his touch feels more and more patronizing – you, standing here, in relative safety, all while Tae’s probably going out of his mind, scared for both you, and the prawning predators waiting for their shot.

“There,” you try again, antsy of the ignorance your disheveled state brings them, “Help, there.” You point to where Tae awaits you, and try to catch the domineering mans attention, but it turns out to be a harder task than initially anticipated.

He looks utterly content, but your older sister’s gene kicks in, and you pull his hand towards you while stepping back, “Help.”, more determent you repeat. From your peripheral vision you see the man all around you anxiously move, but you don’t break your gaze from the man in front of you, having a sense that this is a test of ones will.

He sees you’re not backing down, and once you take another cautious yet determined step backwards, he sighs and tilts his head as if overthinking his decision. He doesn’t seem frightened, or angry, rather annoyed.

For the first time you hear him speak, and you’d be willing to do close to anything to understand what exactly the words are falling from his lips. But judging by everyone’s lost facial expressions, it’s not something they want to hear.

You watch how one of them huffs and says something back, but the unresponsive and domineering look the man in front of you shoots him makes him lower his head and stop what he was saying awfully quick, almost as if in submission.

One thing for sure, the man whose hand you’ve grabbed holds some sort of authority; you’re quick to gather the inner pieces of the tribe’s dynamic, and thankfully you’ve managed to acquire some sort of bond with the one who holds the power. But limelight brings its own shadow, and you realize that one misstep or act of disrespect, and a ‘yes’ from the man in front, for your head to hang on their spears.

His domineering gaze doesn’t reach you, when he turns his head, relaxed he nods, and that’s enough of an approval for you to turn around and lead them back to your brother. Your mind drowns in tsunami, trees blend together, and you hope this is the right path you came from.

Your legs are wobbly, whether it’s due to exhaustion or the fall you don’t know, but you do note how quiet their footsteps are, barely even heard, whereas you’re stumbling through every branch, the mysterious man’s hands coming into clutch every now and then, when gravity seems lost on your body, and you’re about to facepalm the dirt.

The further you go, the more panicked you become, the walk didn’t seem so long when you first came, and your throat hurts in agony of you silencing your screams in search of your brother, remembering how raised voices frightened the group of dubious men.

Unknowingly, you’ve grabbed the mans hand iron tight, it being your only source of groundedness. You feel his body becoming more tense the closer to the cliff you go, they probably don’t wonder so far off, possibility of meeting other people too big of a threat.

You search for your brother through the dense woods, praying he’s somewhere around; you wouldn’t put it past yourself to be going in the wrong direction all together, greenery all around too confusing and similar for any sense of direction, your only hope being broken branches every now and then.

You stop in your footsteps once you hear a new sound in the overall quietness, something akin to a person groaning. Your heart beats violently in your chest, and everyone stops all around you, painfully alert to any possible danger.

But when you hear your name being whimpered by no one else but your brother, you don’t stop to overthink and drop the man’s hand, shouting after Tae and run forwards. Adrenaline over washes any pain – something you’ll worry about tomorrow – your shouts for your brother increase and your speed increases once you think you see his t-shirt shining in between trees.

But you don’t get any further, a strong force pushes you back into a hard chest, and you find yourself caged in the arms of the unknown male. You turn your head to him, and desperately point to where your brother’s voice is coming from and press “Help”, but all you’re met with is his heavy breathing, probably from chasing after you, and domineering gaze that requires obedience.

Tae stumbles fully into your sight, he was probably worried sick about you, and tried searching you; you see how his body freezes and he fearfully takes the sight in of men standing in ready-to-attack stances pointing their weapons at him.

Your last remnant of control breaks once Tae’s voice cracks as he close to whispers your name in fear, and no matter how strong or willed the man caging you is – he’s no match for a desperate woman.

You trash in his hold and scratch his skin, till you find one millisecond of his guard down for you to detach from his arms and run to your brother. You’ve no clue what Tae sees behind you, but he stumbles back in between all shouts and falls in dirt.

Exhausted yet relieved you drop to your knees and grab his face in your palms, “They will help you, please don’t fight it,” quickly you rumble, fearful the man will grab you away from your brother once more, “That’s a tribe” Tae looks terrified, a feeling you can much relate to, but the relief of him being alive and in your arms is too strong, and your eyes overflow with tears and you hug him close to your body, “Thank god you’re alright” you cry out in his shoulder.

To no surprise, a hand grabs the back of your jersey, and pulls you apart from Tae. Your teary gaze is met with the mans domineering one, and you practically feel fumes coming out of his ears when he firmly positions you behind his back.

He holds your waist with one arm, and in the other his spear, you can’t control your tears, probably due to the exhaustion and fear the last hours brought you. You’re pressed so close to his back you’re sure he feels your tears on his skin, and only when he says something to the men waiting for his command, do you realize how tall all of them are.

You try to look over his shoulder to see what’s happening, but you notice only small glimpses of Tae being surrounded by men and how he tries to scoot back. “Tae, don’t! They’ll help you” your voice wavers, you’re not sure of their intentions, but you have to hope that they will help. He stops struggling, and lets the men enclose him to look at his injuries.

Your head is stumped with all the emotions, and when the hand around your waste detaches to point something to the other men, you allow yourself to step back and sit against a tree trump, half-watching how their hands skim over your brothers’ legs to see whether he’s able to walk.

It’s a good minute of them looking over Tae’s injuries, you see one of them grab your backpack you threw in your brothers’ arms before searching for help, and thankfully Tae doesn’t fight them, and quickly gives whatever they ‘ask’ if you can even call it that. Fear hasn’t left his eyes, there’s still a chance they will take your stuff and leave you stranded, they didn’t seem happy of your presence - all you can do is hope.

You note how with such ease they open the backpack as if they do so regularly, perhaps they are a tribe, but dumb they are not, now looking at them you might even say they’re far more advanced than you are. Their clothes cover only their private parts, the closest thing to which you can relate it to is a leather skirt reaching up to their mid-thighs.

And yet, their bodies are resilient enough to withstand the cold and tropical weather. Wind doesn’t phase them, broad bodies standing firm and tall, whereas you’re sitting here, trembling – whether it’s from the wind or overload of emotions stays a secret.

You close your eyes in relief when you see them pick up your brother. Regardless of how hostile they were to you; they are not completely indifferent, or at least the man in control of them is. You open your eyes when you feel movement in front of you, only to be met by a hand reaching out.

When you look up, your gaze meets the man – the one to whom you’re probably indebted for the rest of your life. You take his hand in both of yours, but before he pulls you up, you say what you truly mean without breaking your gaze.

“Thank you.”

It’s a simple sentence that you’d look over regularly, but now, you put all of your soul into those two words – and you know he understands. Perhaps you don’t speak the same language, but at this exact moment you share the same truth and beat the same heart. The moment doesn’t last longer than a second, but his fingers tighten against yours and you feel the strings of an unspoken promise connecting you both.

But the moment passes as quickly as it came, you hear your brothers pained whimper and you whip your head towards the sound; you watch in slight intrigue and caution how the group of men carry him in their arms, one holding his shoulders, one his legs, and two his waist.

You don’t manage to utter a word before you’re pulled upwards, but when you balance your weight on both of your legs you hiss in pain and hold onto his arms. Now that the initial adrenaline slowly wears off, your own injuries from the fall have become visible.

The man whose name you still don’t know follows your gaze and quickly gathers the problem, you don’t have to say a single thing for him to drop his spear and bend down and inspect your foot; you see how he tries to be gentle, but on the slightest pressure on your ankle, you crumble forwards and balance on his shoulders.

“I’m so sorry” you quickly mumble in panic and straighten up, worried you’re overstepping any boundaries by touching him even if so by an accident, but he looks up and shoots you a gaze you could only describe as worried and apologetic.

There’s no time for you to react before he tuts and picks you up in his arms, the sudden movement leaving you breathless. But your alarmed facial expressions don’t phase him, and he simply starts moving forwards. You whip your head backwards to see the rest of the group following you, them carrying your brother close behind, at least some sort of reassurance filling you.

“Thank you, but you can put me down,” you turn back to the man carrying you, but you’re met with silence. “I can walk, it doesn’t hurt.” Lies, complete and utter lies. You feel your leg pulsate even without applying any pressure to it, but if you managed to walk beforehand, you should be able to do so now…right? Or is delusion truly taking over your brain?

The man holding you seems to agree, he doesn’t respond just gives you a look that screams ‘who are you trying to fool?’ that makes your shoulders drop and gaze lower in surrender. Your body is frigid, he surely feels it too, but your body is pressed so closely to his naked chest, that you swear you feel his heartbeat.

You try to keep yourself as far away as possible from his chest, but that seems to be pointless as he holds you closer when he steps over a fallen tree or ducks under a branch; you’re mortified, both from the understanding how much of a burden your presence has caused them, and also from the embarrassing intimacy the position brings you.

There is a reason why they were so scared of you, and yet they’ve overstepped it and most probably are bringing you to their shelter – their most sacred and protected space. You try to keep busy and memorize the way you’re going, after all you’ll need to follow the route tomorrow, but that seems to be harder than expected when there’s a living radiator engulfing you.

You try your best, you truly do, but your eyes betray you and your gaze falls on the arms carrying you; aside from the naked skin and natures shaped muscles you notice something else entirely. His skin is decorated in patterns, something similar to tattoos, just without ink, painting his skin in different designs. You don’t manage to explore it further, although your curiosity is spiked, as it seems he feels your wandering eyes and looks at you.

Embarrassed, you instantly avert your eyes, but you feel his gaze locking you in place. Couple of seconds pass before timidly you look up, but his gaze hasn’t moved, and your eyes meet; never before had you noticed how expressive one’s eyes are, the quiet dominance he possesses, and untold words shaping his eyes.

If you weren’t looking carefully, you would’ve missed it, but when he breaks eye contact, the corners of his lips slightly rise, almost as if he’s smug he caught you red-handed; the small detail makes you curl up even further, embarrassment too timid of a word to describe how you’re feeling.

You look up only when he starts speaking in his own tongue and slows down, and when you do, your breath is taken away. You’re not sure what you expected their shelter to look like, perhaps couple of sticks and a leaf roof; but now you’re looking at close to a small village.

Makeshift fence surrounds the self-made small houses, and from your vantage, you can’t see the end of it. People gather and cheer once they see their men returning, happy faces and children running up to greet them by the fence, but once they notice you in, as you guess, their leaders arms their cheers are overturned by worried looks and murmuring.

You watch in astonishment, not sure how the tribe has not yet been put on maps and history books, this surely is never before seen. The sparse knowledge you’ve of tribes say they consist of small numbers of people, all barely surviving the harsh ways of nature; but if you weren’t aware that you’re going into a tribe’s space, you would’ve easily mistaken it for a distant village from society.

You notice how the man carrying you moves carefully, almost as if following a pattern, avoiding certain potholes and paths. He oversteps barely visible strings, and you wonder whether that’s a trap to catch any dangerous animals threatening their home. You look over his shoulder and see the rest of the group following him in a stretched line, being just as careful as he is. It does leave you wondering, feeling as though you’re walking through a minefield.

The makeshift gate opens, and not even a full step into their territory you’ve to fight your inner need to run; everyone’s eyes are on you, a mix of fear and intrigue greeting you. You feel as though you’re a rare artifact ready to examen. More people gather, their shushed murmurs travelling with wind, and guilt bubbles in your chest knowing you’ve disturbed their reality once you notice how mothers protectively guide their children behind them.

Their gazes sweep up to the man carrying you, as if searching for some sort of consolation, and your previous hunch comes into fruition – he does hold some sort of respect within the group. Is it wrong to say you find some sort of comfort knowing the one they look up to is the one who protected you; suddenly his boundary overstepping touch doesn’t feel unwelcoming. You’ve a feeling as long as he stays on your side, you’ll be fine.

He carries you to what seems like a gathering place just before the fence, and carefully lets you down on a makeshift bench before a bonfire. You’re cautious with your movements, not wanting to scare anyone even more, but you instantly look around for your brother, slightly relaxing when he’s seated near you.

The man holds up a finger bringing your attention back to him, signaling for you to wait. Your gaze quickly goes back to your brother, who instantly meets your gaze with a concerned one, and uncomfortably you shift and point to him, “I’ll go to him if that’s alright.”

It’s pointless to expect any sort of a response from him, but he narrows his eyes and after couple of seconds of him unmoving, you testingly shift closer to Tae, all while watching his reaction. He doesn’t react, only slightly purses his lips. You feel his gaze on you, as if he’s analyzing your movements and your connection with Tae, but when you reach him, the man turns back to his people and addresses them. You take that as your que.

“I need you to stay calm, Tae-” but he doesn’t let you finish, “Stay calm?! We’re in middle of nowhere with people who might as well kill us!” you shush him and look around to check if somebody heard you; even if you don’t speak the same tongue, you know the man understood at least some words you had said.

As if it was confirmed, you notice how the man who saved you shoots you a look. “As of now, they haven’t done anything wrong,” you turn back to Tae, choosing to withhold how you were almost killed when they first saw you. “I promise, we’ll leave first thing tomorrow, but for now, do as they say and keep quiet.”

You take his hands into your own, holding onto the last bit of normalcy. He’s here, you’re both alive, you’ll be alright. “How do you feel?” after a moment you ask, his injuries don’t look too good, his skin is bruised, and if the men deemed it necessary to carry him, it can’t be good.

“Have felt better.” His dismissive tone tells you enough, and you squeeze his hand tighter, feeling extremely useless, not having a clue how you can help him. “I’m more worried about him.” Curious you look where he nods his head and see the leader stealing looks your way every now and then when his people speak.

“He’s not taking his eyes off of us.” He purses his lips in thought, “Or rather, you. I can’t forget how he looked at me in the forest, I thought he was going to kill me when you ran up to me.” You ponder over his words, you noticed how Tae fell back in fright when you approached him, but it does make sense for them to be cautious.

“Bee, I don’t think we should stay here. I don’t have a good feeling.” you try to shush him in vain, your dismissal only spurges him on, “I know this is my fault, I should’ve overthought it when I saw warnings of dangerous habitats and rumors of people going missing. But this was said to be one of the most beautiful hiking spots, so I-”

That is news to you, never before had he mentioned it to you, and you want to pry further, but one worried look thrown to the tribe and you see them already finishing their talk, people moving in different directions and the leader coming your way.

“You’ll tell me tomorrow-” but he interrupts in an exasperated manner, “We can’t stay here!” you glance at the leader and how he stops near you, far enough to not be seen if you wouldn’t be looking, but close enough to hear.

“Listen to me, we’re good.” Rushed, you grab his cheeks and strongly whisper, “We need the shelter, and they’ve been good to us. I’ll protect you.” His eyes fill with tears, and your heart squeezes seeing your brother so vulnerable, both from the injuries and fear.

You hug him and massage his back, trying to give some sort of support. You’re just as terrified as he is, but right now you have to be strong; the pressure of being the oldest child falling on your shoulders, the one responsibility you’ll never manage to evade, no matter the hardships you go through.

You notice people gathering around you, distant enough for their safety, yet close enough for you to feel enclosed. You slowly detach from Tae and get startled when you notice how the leader is standing right in front of you; it’s nerve-wracking how quiet their steps are.

A woman comes up to him, holding some sort of ceramic bowl in her hands. She’s careful holding it, and you notice she’s doing her best to not spill the liquid inside. Nerves creep back into your system when the leader grabs your hands, and helps you stand up, thus separating you from your brother.

You timidly watch how the woman hands him the bowl and he nods his head in gratitude, the exchange only further showing the respect woven within their group. He presses the bowl to your lips, and your back straightens, all caution signals awakened in your body.

The brownish-green liquid touches your lips and alarmed you back away biting back a whimper when you put your weight on your hurt leg and fearfully ask, “What is that?”. For all you know, it could be poison, Taes previous words still travel through your mind of how people have disappeared.

He doesn’t answer, just raises one eyebrow in a challenging manner. You’ve a bad suspicion you don’t have a choice in the matter, and you know for a fact disrespecting their leader would be the end of you, especially when they show such high regards to him.

And yet, you don’t know their ulterior motives. You hear Taehyungs worried voice calling you, and you know, if you refuse, you’ll put both of you in danger. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” You try your best to sound convincing, but your voice wavers, and you have to gulp down your fears and hope, hope that these people have a sense of empathy for you.

He steps forward and presses the bowl once more to your lips, and you meet his gaze with your shaky eyes and surrendered ask, “If I drink it, he won’t have to, right?”. His eyes narrow in something you can only describe as mix of annoyance and confusion; he tilts the bowl forwards and you’re met with the bitter liquid.

You try to pull away, but he tilts your head higher, and you’re forced to drink the acrid liquid, your eyes water; only when the bowl is empty, he lets you go, and you fall into uncontrollable coughs. The unpleasant taste overpowering any other sense.

Still coughing, you turn to Tae, only to see him drinking the same liquid with a disgusted expression. The taste seems worse when you don’t know what exactly it is you’re drinking. Only when Tae has finished his drink, the group of people backs up with nods of approval and seem to fall back into their daily regime.

“What was that?” he coughs when you sit beside him, but you ignore his question being lost yourself, “Do you feel any different?” you try to focus your gaze and work out what the liquid was. You’re not in any extra pain, and you’re breathing fine, you doubt it was poison.

“Not really.” He shrugs his shoulders, and you fall into silence, overthinking what just happened. Was he testing you? Is it some sort of medicine? Your mind threatened to burst from all the thoughts running through it, a migraine impending, but then, as if in a snap of a finger your mind became quiet.

A sense or serenity washes over you, where everything seems less important than it is. “Bee?” you hum back, “Those girls are reeeaally pretty.” His slurred speech makes you turn to him with a questioning gaze. He’s watching two women giggling to one another and shooting Tae inquisitive gazes.

“Are you okay?” you’re not sure how his mind can go there, when the only thing that’s on your mind is his well-being, but now even that thought seems buried somewhere far away. “Oh, I’m good.” He gives you a lopsided grin, and you let out a cackle in disbelief, you turn to the women and have to agree, they are beautiful, hair shining due to the ferocious bonfire, smiles gleaming and eyes full of mischief.

“Where are you going?” you grab his hand when he stands up, but he lightheartedly shrugs it off, “I wanna talk to them.” And just like that, he’s gone, you shout one last time whether he’s fine, after all, his skin is colored in deep purple shades, but with a slight limp he shouts not to worry.

You sit there, slightly offended of being left all alone; all you wish to do is hug your brother close and sleep off all the exhaustion, but apparently your minds work in different trajectories. Dejected you watch him going up to the two girls, his social-butterfly skills coming into play as you hear laughter coming from their way.

Your shoulders relax and you watch all around you for a place to rest your head, the wooden trunk bench hurting your back. You fixate on a tree behind you, but when you stand up, the effects of whatever you drank come full-force. Your mind can’t process the sudden movement, and you feel gravity calling your name as everything around you becomes blurry.

Stumbling, you fall against the tree and rest your head against it, head feeling dizzy; you close your eyes, focusing on breathing, but your mind is filled with pulsating waves. You don’t know how much times has passed, if you had to guess, a couple of minutes, but the presence of time is barely credible, in matter of a blink, nightfall has overtaken sky, and stars blind you.

You have to force your eyes to stay open, and when you do and try to focus on the environment around you, confusion overtakes your body; it felt like couple of minutes, but everything has changed.

Bonfire lights up everything in the near distance, people have gathered all around it, some playing home-made instruments, that you could only guess are something alike harmonicas, flutes, and drums in midst of those you don’t recognize. Benches are filled with people humming along and chitchatting. Upon further inspection, you’re sure that’s your brother sitting on a bench, trying to sing along to the unfamiliar tune and laughing with a group of girls encircling him.

You shake your head at your brothers’ doings, always been jealous of his ways of living, the way he’s capable of making connections with people he just met and enjoying every color and shade life gifts. But you’re at peace here, sitting behind them and overlooking their happiness from afar.

You’re completely relaxed and calm when a couple of unsteady feet run past you, tripping over a rock; you automatically reach your hands out and catch the little creature of happiness. Big, blue eyes gaze up at you, and your heart tugs at their adoring smile, small teeth showing through lips, probably just breaking out from gums.

“Are you okay?” you ask the small child in an amused tone, only for them to bite their fingers and giggle all while shaking their head. You realize your emotions are heightened when you’re close to crying when the little one squeezes your cheeks and babbles something that goes over your head.

The single interaction leaving you with heart fuller of love than the whole year prior, you let the child go and watch how the small beacon of light runs to a woman standing and overlooking you both with a smile on her face.

She picks him up and kisses his face as he smiles and tries to get away. You wonder why these people are so feared, when all you see is energy filled with love and happiness. You relish the warmth, not sure whether it’s due to the fire or the love and comfort filled atmosphere. Whichever it is, you relinquish in it, and find your body and mind more relaxed than ever. The feeling so sought for after all these years.

You smile when the woman holding her child comes up to you and sits down. Usually, your mind would be filled with anxiousness of how to interact with an unknown person, but now you just smile and tell her your name, completely lost of the fact she doesn’t understand a single word.

But she doesn’t have to, she grabs your hand and squeezes it tight, whole-heartedly welcoming your presence. She shoots you a smile, and right then and there you melt at the sight, her smile so warm and motherly you want to hide in her protective arms.

Your emotions come into play once more, and you feel yourself tearing up – from what you’ve no clue, but the amount of love and peace you feel is overwhelming. “Are you alright?” She laughs at your uncontrollable emotions, “I’m alright, please don’t mind me.” You wipe your tears and try to calm down, until a realization downs your mind. She spoke English.

Quickly you turn your head to her smiling frame, overjoyed of her knowing your language, completely missing the puzzle peace of how she could know English.

“You understand me! You speak English!” your elated expression makes her laugh linger; she shakes her head with a smile and pats the child’s blonde hair who very comfortably sits in her lap, “Little, our Jungookie knows best.” She points where the group has gathered, you follow her gaze to be met with the leader, finally gathering his name. He feels your gaze and instantly looks up, but you don’t waver, enthralled by the newfound information.

If your mind was working clear, you would’ve been terrified by the knowledge, not only because of the missing information of how they know it, but also from overthinking what exactly have you spoken that could incriminate you. But it doesn’t. And you’re happy knowing you’ve found someone whose roots are entangled with yours.

“You’re amazing.” You look back to her with a gaze one could only describe as being love filled, but you truly are amazed by all of them, how strong and kind they are despite all life throws their way. The woman tuts, smile never leaving for a minute, you’re not bothered by how she looks at you as if you’re a child confessing their love, you simply enjoy this moment.

Weight falling into your lap overtakes your attention, and you watch how the little one snuggles in both of your laps and stretches his little arms. “Aren’t you a cutie?” you ask only for him to shoot you his brightest smile. You tickle the little skin that shows through his cloth, and watch overjoyed how he giggles and tries to scoot away from the ticklish sensation. You laugh as if you’re being tickled yourself, his happiness extremely contagious.

The woman says something in her language to the child, and you watch how he quickly nods his head and climbs in her lap, but not before he throws his entire weight on you and gives you a hug. You’re a complete stranger to the group, and yet they’ve managed to make you feel more welcomed than anyone before.

You’re enthralled by their ways of living, and you watch how gently the woman interacts with, presumably, her child, although you note how different they look to one another. You attention is piqued when she moves her clothes to what you assume is breastfeed the boy, you quickly move your head to others, ready to move in front of her to shield her from any nasty comments and dirty looks, but when you do, no one cares.

Some women around the fire breastfeed their children, and you’re confused by the lack of acknowledgment and uninterest showed by others. But then again, you guess that some behaviors are thought.

She hums in wonder when she notices your on-guard reaction, but you simply shake your head, lost in wonder of their ways. You don’t stop the incredulous laugh bubbling through your chest and sit back against the tree in disbelief of how differently the world works for you.

“Do you often go outside of your home?” You break the comfortable silence, the question bugging your mind ever since you saw her peoples terrified expressions. She looks confused at your question, and you point outside to the forest, not sure if she understands what you’re saying.

Realization dawns upon her, and she quickly shakes her head seemingly bothered by the change in topic, “No, no, no,” her movements become more agitated, and the little one detaches from her breast from the sudden movement, “There – bad,” she fixes the cloth like dress and points to the forest, “Very, very bad, we stay here – safe.”

The question clearly made her uncomfortable, if the frown on her lips is anything to go by, whether it’s bad memories or what, but the way her tone gets agitated and her hand gestures more animated makes you lean in and nod your head in faux understanding, completely lost to the fact you might be the one they’re so scared of.

“Men go there, food.” she points once again to the forest, shiver travelling up her spine, “We here, safe. Here good.” The woke of emotions makes her loose track of English, she spurts out some words you don’t recognize, but the way she emphasizes ‘here good’, makes you believe her, as if you understand each and every word.

It does make you think how it would be to live here, her confident and pressing tone leaves you wondering whether she’s right. You watch how the little one stands up on his wobbly feet, denying the urge within yourself to help him, and runs to the group of people sitting by the fire.

You’re curious when he stops by another woman, and she takes him in her arms without a single thought and showers him in kisses. You watch the interaction and wonder which of the two women is his mother, but then again – it’s their world, they don’t hold such strict rules like you do.

The woman besides you doesn’t care, just smiles at the interaction, and shakes her head. When she gets up to leave, a weird sense of remorse overtakes you, you wish to hold out your hand and ask her to stay, surprisingly, her presence brings you comfort, but you don’t.

But by the look on her face, she knows how you’re feeling, and she pats your hair in a motherly way, and says, “Not worry. You’re not alone. Am not the only who speak to you.” Your brows furrow trying to distinguish her words, and you follow her gaze to the group, and see the leader, or as you gathered, Jungkook, looking at you. He doesn’t look threatening, the joyous atmosphere making him look younger, but his unmoving gaze makes you feel small, not sure how long he’s been watching you.

You look back to her when she hums, “Sweetie, he watching you all night.” You acknowledge her smile, although the meaning of her words travels right past your ears, “I see you later.” And with the last pat to your hair, she’s gone. You hope you’ll see her later, even if it’s just before you leave, and with a childish gleam you smile knowing you’ve made a friend.

It’s hard to control your mind, as if the pulsating ideas and emotions bubble form previously suppressed parts within yourself. Parts you longed for, but never was able to meet. Suddenly everything seems sweet, the cruel ways of life unknown.

You watch in delight how relaxed everyone around you is, the way their bodies sway to music, how gently some man massages woman’s shoulders, how in such delight someone combs their fingers through a woman’s hair, you laugh noticing how a man giggles when children surround him jumping up and down asking to be picked up. Wherever you look, you’re filled with peaceful happiness.

In day-to-day life, you’d be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the sweetness to rot and ask for a price for the moment of happiness, but even if it does, you’d be willing to do it again just to experience these couple of moments of untainted happiness.

You must look pitiful, sitting all alone, your eyes watering with unshed tears once again, but you don’t have the means within you to blame yourself. You realize it’s probably the drink you had that’s making the walls of your heart crumble, you should be worrying of how to leave this place early morning, or even analyze the possible danger you’re facing, but your mind feels at ease, heart crumbling to vulnerability and honesty. If the gates were to open and they’d ask you to leave right this instance, you’re sure, you’d be begging to stay.

“Hi,” you sniffle and look up where the voice comes from. You freeze when you realize the leader is standing right in front of you; somewhere in the depts of your mind you know you’ve to be on your best behavior, but the emotions have taken you deep within and you meekly greet him before wiping your tears.

If you were under normal circumstances, you’d be embarrassed of someone seeing you cry, but even though your emotions are hitting all time high, your mind is at ease, as if nothing in this world could make you worried.

His brows furrow seeing your distraught state, “Are you alright? Does your leg hurt?” you shake your head in dismissal, but he still bends down and gently presses his fingers against your ankle. Stunned, you watch his fingers massaging your leg; not long ago, you couldn't properly stand, so why does his touch feel welcoming and not hurtful?

“No…it doesn’t...?” dazed, you search his eyes for an answer, but all he does is smile at your pouty lips and confused expression, “That’s good, isn’t it?” his smile is comforting, and you nod your head lost of words to say.

“Why are you crying then? Are you scared?” his hands continue massaging your leg, and you don’t even flinch when he rips the ends of your jeans for more access to your skin. You sigh at how warm his touch feels, even though he’s dressed in less layers, his skin is burning in comparison to yours, “No, no,” you shake your head, and he tilts his head, giving you all of his attention, “You just look so peaceful.”

Your eyes keep wandering to the joyous group in front of you, a weird sense of longing fills your body. You miss the way he carefully analyzes your expression, mind lost in wonders of emotions, too focused on his gentle touch and warm atmosphere.

“It’s the drink, isn’t it?” you look back at him when he hums questioningly, “That’s making me feel this way? This weird calmness when everything is just so pretty?” if beforehand you thought his smile was beautiful, now you’re ready to drown in his pearly whites, watching in childish delight how his smile grows. You can’t stop yourself and lightly trace the dimple on his cheek his hand falling over yours.

“Partially,” He caresses your hand, and gently separates it from his cheek, “It shows your true emotions,” you close to melt when he pecks your hand before laying it in your lap, both of your hands entangled, “all the repressed thoughts, desires.”

You squeeze his hand, trying to stay focused on what he’s saying, but your attention drives to his eyes, noticing how his own pupils seem dilated, and you wonder whether he also drank the liquid. “Everything you’ve tried to hide.” His hands move to your knees and unconsciously your muscles tighten, the warm contact unexpected, yet desired.

“Could I-” you bite your lip, not sure whether you should ask, but the words push past all your peripheries; perhaps you’re too comfortable, but the way his eyes stay in a permanent smile and his steady gaze fixates on you, as if nothing else is important makes your mind feel at such ease, the words escape you before you manage to overthink them.

“Could I have some more, please?” even if you’ll regret those words when haze clears from your mind, selfishly, you don’t want this moment to end; his touch is gentle, and he caresses a stray strand of hair from your face, you watch how he nods his head all while a smile spreads across his face - it’s not malicious or devious, it’s comforting.

His presence is comforting. As if there’s no bad in the world – as if you can do no bad. “Of course, you can.” You can’t even pretend to feel guilty when his actions are so validating. Without any excuses or ridicule, he gets up and walks towards the group, where you notice a pot by the fire. Only now you see the cup being passed around the bonfire, gleaming flames and shining stars illuminates the free spirit of those around you.

You notice another previously missed detail – even though his hair reaches just above shoulders, a single braid, longer than his hair, graces down his back. You watch in wonder another sign of his culture, quickly realizing that no other man shares the same detail. You wonder whether it signifies his position within the tribe.

Even though most of the tribe members you’ve seen are on the younger side, an older male, probably no older than 50, sits by himself away from the fire. You watch in wonder the lone individual, wondering why he’s the only one keeping away from his people. But what catches your attention is the same braid that decorates Jungkooks hair, only his being twice as long.

He doesn’t seem bothered, every now and then he looks up from sharpening his spear, but his eyes scream sorrow when he gazes at the youngsters mingling, and you wonder what’s hiding behind his pain.

His sorrowful eyes awaken a need for you to comfort him, and you’re ready to go up to him, before your attention is cascaded back to Jungkook who returns to his previous spot, down on his knees between your legs, only now he’s holding a cup in his hands.

You quickly divert your attention back to him, the lonesome man forgotten, and with newfound excitement greet him, as if you haven’t seen him in days, although it was a couple of minutes at best, “Hi!” your smile is contagious as you see his own smile growing.

“Long time no see,” his pearly whites press against his lips when you giggle; you’re sure he could say whatever, funny or not, and you’d still be a giggling mess. He presses the cup in your hands, and you grimace at the smell.

“I realized I still don’t know your name,” he mutters as you take a sip of the drink, trying to hold back a cough. Shuddering from the taste you look at him, “Everyone calls me Bee,” his confused expression urges you for an explanation.

“You know, like the little insects with wings,” you flutter your hands imitating flying, “Why?” you take another sip and nonchalantly answer, “Always hard-working.”

You look down at the dark liquid with a grimace, completely missing the way his eyebrows scrunch and the scowl on his lips, “How is that going for you?”, the drink works its magic, and you spit out the first thing that comes into your mind while snickering, “Awful, but you know, strong independent woman.” You smile and show off your muscles.

Your words may be harsh, but your mind blurs the meaning of them, as if you’re unable to keep anything behind closed lips and sweetened truth. “Would you like some?” you press the cup against his lips, mind flying all over the place.

Ones culture is an interesting concept, the action means nothing to you, but the way his eyes quickly zero-in on your face, puppy eyes searching whether you’re joking, must hold a deeper meaning.

He takes a sip of the drink, not breaking your eye contact. His eyes are shining in delight, from what exactly you’re not sure, but you do know one thing – whatever you just done must’ve meant something to him.

You close your eyes and feel the effects drown your mind in pulsating waves, every beat of the instruments playing in the background resonates in your body, your heart beats pressing in your chest, and all the exhaustion leaving your shoulders. You feel at peace, as if a comforting blanket is thrown over your body.

But the freer your body feels, the less in control of your actions you become. It should be terrifying, how fuzzy everything is, but you let it take control.

You feel his hand caressing your hair and hum in pleasure, “Why are you not afraid?” you slightly open your eyes and note how that feels like a task in itself, “Of what?” you tilt your head and gratefully accept the liquid when he presses the cup to your lips.

“Me.” He wipes the corners of your lips, curiosity shining in his eyes, you note how he seems more in control of his actions, whereas it’s hard for you to hold onto a single thought, “You could’ve hurt me if you wanted to, but instead you’ve taken care of me more than anyone before.”

“And if I’m being honest,” you giggle to yourself, “Even if you would hurt me now, I wouldn’t care, I’ve never felt so good.” He shakes his head at your words, “I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is serious, and you can see he means his words when he puts down the drink and cups your cheeks.

It’s hard to focus on his words, and you know he’s doing his best to hold your attention, when he turns your head to meet his gaze, “You promise?” his brow arches at your challenging eyes. You hold up your pinky finger and giggle at his lost expression.

Unsure, he puts his pinky finger next to yours, and you wrap yours around his, “I’ll hold this promise till your dying breath, if you break it, you’ll be downgraded to a typical man, and trust me-” you beckon him closer, “That’s a veery low standard.”

He shakes his head with a smile, and you rest against the tree. You take the cup in your hands and notice another detail, “That’s pretty.” You murmur looking at his hands. Now, free of all concerns how you might look and what you should and shouldn’t say you look closer at the designs across his skin.

Uncaring, you draw your fingers against his biceps, “How did you make it?” his eyes are focused on your fingers, and you smile when you feel goosebumps covering his skin, “Knife.” His voice is noticeably deeper, and you internally wince imagining knife drawn across his skin.

“It must’ve hurt…” you outline your fingers over a spiral like bump, “Worth it if you like it.” You look up and laugh at his wide grin, he takes your hand and draws your fingers over the spiral, “This one is life cycle,”

“This one,” he notes four felixes connected by a line, “Strength.” You look over the lines, half listening to his explanations, but you notice how the shapes look only half-completed over his chest, “These aren’t finished…”

“No, no. Each section represents something, this one,” he puts your hand over his chest, “Can’t finish it yet.” The tattoos look weirdly out of place, half-started lines, and shapes, missing their significance.

He gazes at his lower arm, “This is family, and this,” he moves his bicep, “Strength. Back is for pride, and chest,” he smiles when you continue exploring the lonesome bumps, “Higher self. Love.” That catches your attention, “Love is your highest self?”

“Of course, without it you’re incomplete. One half of a whole.” You hum, not able to disagree. “Well then, I hope you’ll be able to finish it soon.” You feel his heartbeat under your palm, skin so warm, like a woolen blanket in midst of winter. “I think I will.”

His whisper goes over your head, with each passing second you feel your body slipping further into depths of your mind, and when Jungkook presses the cup final time against your lips asking you to drink up, you mindlessly follow his command.

Shivers travel down your spine, the horrid taste clings to your tongue, and you force yourself to swallow the acrid drink. “You’re fine,” he strokes your back when you cough, not sure how he’s able to drink it without any reaction.

But the feeling is worth it, almost instantly the effects pull you under, this time, twice as hard. You close your eyes and enjoy the feeling, stars dancing in your mind. Jungkooks hand detaches from your back, and subconsciously you grab it and pull him closer, a weird craving nips your body, longing for some sort of physical touch.

“Don’t do that.” You mumble with drawn eyebrows. Alarm bells ring in your mind, fear, if he pulls back the coldness will seep back in. “If I could, I’d stay here forever,” you can’t control your words, all the unconscious thoughts pouring over.

“Why can’t you?” his question leaves your brain on a pause. Truly, why can’t you? You open your eyes and see his face right in front of yours, the stars that shined in your mind shine brighter in his eyes. Now looking at him you can’t remember why you can’t stay; you can’t remember all you fight for in your day-to-day.

All of it seems pointless. Would anyone care if you wouldn’t return? Rather, would anyone notice if you wouldn’t return? The thought leaves a deep bruise over your heart, and you don’t lie when you whisper, “I don’t know.”

Be it some underlying scar, but you wish to feel something real. His body is so close to yours, yet it feels as though you’re separated by winters of seas. The small distance is freezing, and you pull his hand closer to your chest, hoping, he’d close the distance and pull you into his warmth.

The desire to feel his touch is overbearing, your eyes fill with tears of unsaid words, it’s hard to express what you’re feeling, when the emotion is so deep rooted you can’t grab onto its essence. You search his eyes, begging him to understand, but the man in front of you looks just as starved as you are, and you know, you both share the same scars.

You don’t say a word when he moves closer, you don’t need to. Same understanding fills you, and you know he feels the same. His breath fawns over your lips, defrosting years long winter, and when his lips connect with yours, all is lost, and the eternal glaciers melt with the first caress of sun.

The action seems so natural, his lips over yours at place, you don’t want him to pull back. His touch is hot against yours, his hand climbing up your thigh, and you feel as though you’re melting in his arms.

But thoughts of your brother needing you pulls you back, as comforting as his touch feels, you also know it can’t last. You detach from his lips, worry of Tae clouding your mind, but it’s hard to hold on to it, when his lips move to your neck, sinfully gliding over your skin.

“Jungkook,” your hands wove in his hair, “I can’t.” you have to forcefully mutter those words, every inch of your body screaming otherwise. But just as hard as it is for you to say it, it’s the same for him to detach from your skin.

He looks you in the eye seriously, looking for any sense of truth when he knows, that’s not how you’re feeling, “What’s holding you back?”. Your mind is in a great war with your truest self, both sides screaming one at another, and you crumble under the pressure you unknowingly cage yourself in.

“My brother. I can’t do this, he needs me.” But your words don’t ring a sense of understanding to him, he shakes his head and guides your head where your brother is sitting, “I’d say he’s doing quite well.”

His lips return to your neck, and you watch how your brother is kissing one of the women from before, completely lost in his own world, without a care of anything around him. You bite your lip when his teeth graze at a particularly sensitive spot near your jaw, it’s hard to fight against your inner turmoil when the one thing you truly long for, has fallen in your arms.

But if Tae can be free within himself, why can’t you? The high ice walls of your heart slowly crumble with each swipe of his tongue and before you know it, you cave in, and pull your legs closer against his hips.

You let him take the lead, and loose yourself in the feeling; your eyes watch how prettily stars shine on both of you, never before have you seen such pretty skies, you’re sure somewhere they’ve aligned, teaching you meaning behind unconditional love.

You don’t protest when his hands wrap around your legs and pulls you up and leads you somewhere – you don’t even care where, when his touch is the only thing, you care for. But as you’re leaving the site, your eyes connect with the lonesome man, he looks at you in curiosity, and stops sharpening his weapon, for a second you see the vulnerability in his eyes, memories travelling through the pits of his cold gaze, and you wonder, what is his story.

Darkness of night separates you from his silhouette, the further along you go, the more trust you’ve to put in the arms carrying you, you’ve lost all sense of control, but it’s hard to seek it, when it’s the first time you’ve felt no need for it.

You realize you trust him, trust him to guide you right, trust him to cherish you for this night; it’s not an easy task for someone like you, sharp walls crashing anyone who steps too close for your own safety, but you know tonight is different, when every part of you wishes to let him take control, and seep into the depths of his gentle caresses.

Time is a subordinate under his compelling will, you can’t focus on anything else but the way your hearts beat the same union; whatever he wishes and does, you’ll comply, not because of a need to be owned or told what to do, but because you know, he won’t do anything to hurt you.

He holds you tighter than the sanity of his dubious thoughts, you both know whatever this is might end up costing more than the freedom itself, but what is freedom, when the others touch brings you back to life?

Your tongues stay entangled one with another, his muscle teases you, never quite giving you what you wish him to, but never leaves you stranded. He dips his tongue over yours, but pushes it back, leaving you to seek for it more, but just when you think he’s left you wanting, his tongue entangles with your own, sharing the same passion and longing, giving you every part of his essence, the good and bad expressed with desire.

You feel your body ascending, and when you open your eyes, you see him climbing up stairs, all the houses and entangled couples looking smaller with each step, you know he’s making sure to keep you safe. His hands gripping your lower tights, pressing your body closer till your breath runs out.

Your mind solely focuses on the feeling, completely dismissing the environment around you; you feel soft furs beneath your body, only accelerating the growing warmth inside of you, never before felt combination of comfort and affection. It’s as though your minds are combined, golden strings mark your desires, growing stronger and bolder with each passing minute.

Lost in the sensation of soft touches and heartfelt kisses, you don’t notice your vulnerability beneath him; how could you notice your clothes scattered on the wooden floor, when his body heats every part within you in scorching desire, his caresses draw your mind further in the auroras of pleasure, not a single part of you left unattended and unkissed.

You arch your back, chest pressed against his, when you feel your inner emptiness filled, and your bodies finally bound; you sigh in relief, pinpointing the churning feeling finally relieved when he presses himself deeper within your walls, and wraps his hands around your body, not a single share left for the winter’s harsh winds.

His body is everywhere, inside you, around you, within you; as if every part of you is his, just as every part of him – yours. If someone told you, you’re one peace of a soul, you wouldn’t doubt it for a second; every escaped moan and curse, he catches with his lips, and every time his hips move away from yours, your hands press them back in, wrapped around his lower back, preventing the sought for feeling disappear.

But you don’t have to worry of him disappearing, for as much as your soul yearns for its mark of belonginess, his yearns tenfold. Your every touch and escaped moan awakens his untamed desire, every part of him, solely dedicated to you. He kisses your fallen tears and ruptured scars, knowing he is the one to mend them, even if it takes his own blood and tears, he’ll make sure your souls are woven together; for what he bleeds you soothe, and for what you pain, he mends.

You’re alive within the feeling, your only focus on pleasure and essence, when you closed your eyes, the darkness of nights secrets held you safe, but when you open them, beams of light showcased life’s truth. And not a single moment between them left unpleasurable.

Jungkook lays across your chest, head pressed against your breasts softly kissing your fingers, your own hand is sprayed across his back, caressing it in gentle patterns, your legs entangled with one another. The feeling of fullness hasn’t left you, and you refuse to move, all the pieces finally connecting.

Your mind is as fuzzy as ever, enjoying the warmth that comes from two people understanding each other, laying in their soft caresses and untold love confessions. Your fingers draw over the bumps on his back, and you note the small, straight lines covering his back, taking extra care to not touch the two that are still healing.

“Why haven’t you finished your chest tattoos?” your voice is groggy, and you have to clear your voice to get an even tone. He stops his movements hearing your voice, and turns his head to face you, a small smile adorning his face, completely at peace enjoying your warmth, “I told you, didn’t I?”

Your purse your lips in thought, something you weren’t able to process the first time he told you, “Well, yes. But your family loves you, doesn’t it count?” You saw the respect they hold for him first-hand, that sort of love can’t be attained by anyone, and by the looks of it, he must know it.

“It has to be your other half.” He shakes his head and kisses your breasts. “I, provide safety and strength,” he flexes his muscles, and sneaks his hands around your waist making you giggle, your skin too responsive to his touch.

“Woman provides knowledge,” he caresses your hair, “Truth,” he whispers against your chest, “Life.” He moves to your lower belly, and gently kisses the skin, not taking his eyes off of you, “We’re incomplete without a woman.”

There’s no time to contemplate his words when he continues, “We come from a woman. We’re a part of a woman. No man can ever be without his other half.”. You caress his hair, wishing that was the case in real life, but his words seem too sweet to hold truth, even your non-reliable emotions see past it.

“Then why do you hurt women?” You don’t overthink the question, it’s something that has always been bugging your mind. Such high praise, yet so little truth. But if your words don’t ring an alarm bell for you, it does for him. He lifts his head from your stomach and shoots you an unsure gaze.

“We don’t.”

“But what if you do?” You don’t mean to challenge him; no animosity clouds your words, but you’re truly curious of the way their brains work. Seeing you not drop the subject Jungkook scoots closer to you, and you hold his cheeks and send him a smile.

You watch in curiosity when he brings his finger to his lips, and sharply bites down; you’re about to question his actions but you’re left dumbfounded when he drags his bleeding finger across your forehead.

His blood marks your skin, but his actions don’t stop; he takes your hand in his own, and softly kisses your index finger before breaking the skin with his teeth. He’s noticeably gentler than when he bit his own, but your still let out a hiss from the sharp feeling.

He traces your bleeding finger across his own forehead, now both of you marked in each other’s blood before he carefully places it in his mouth to stop further bleeding. His eyes scan your mark in satisfaction, as if just proven a point, and your fuzzy brain works overtime to understand what just happened.

“No being can live without half of their soul. If you hurt it, you go along with it. Death.” His tone is serious, and your brain scrambles to form any eligible meaning behind them, but it’s hard to focus when his lips travel to your lower belly, slow with his actions, yet ever so persistent.

He shows his beliefs through his actions, and your back arches once again when his wet muscle traces your most sensitive part in gentle, but firm patterns. Day turns into night, and time into blur when all you can hold onto is passion drowning you deeper and deeper in its reigns.

For the first time you experience the meaning of love in its truest form; no laws or calculated motives color it in tantalized obligations. Even if it’s taken from you tomorrow, you know it has engraved itself in the depths of your soul; you know you’ll spend forever trying to find someone who’ll manage to fill even half of your desires like Jungkook could. Someone who’ll manage to show you love even half as passionate and true like he has.

But for now, you’ll enjoy the fleeting moment, and dive deep into the pits that is Jungkook, letting him caress your every curve, and kiss your imperfections like the treasure gold. Because it is just that, nothing less than a treasure you spend your whole life searching for.

You’ll allow him to love you like no other, hold you close like the other part of him, because even if it’s just for today, he is that to you, he is the one who kisses your scars and melts your fears. He is the one, you’ll be longing after your whole life. But that’s okay, because his arms are the first to protect you from winters frost and throwing spears, he is the one you’ll have to leave for your long last fears.

Never before have you awakened so refreshed. As if every part of your body, every nerve and muscle, has had a restart. The sound of birds chirping makes you open your eyes, your still half-asleep mind trying to understand what’s happening. You stretch in the make-shift bed, covered in furs and wool, warmth surrounds your body and light floods in through the cracks in the wooden walls.

You prop yourself up on elbows, it takes you a minute to understand where you’re located, but when you do, and your mind is clear enough for some understanding to flood in, you freeze in shock. Quickly you look around, and relieved breath out realizing you’re the only one in the make-shift house.

You plop back onto the bed and drag your hands over your face; you’re not sure how to feel about everything that transpired, the thought alone of everyone seeing you and Jungkook making out horrifies you. Taehyung saw you. He will never let you live it down.

You groan in embarrassment; you’ve utterly failed in your position as oldest sister. And you know you can’t blame it all on the drink either, after all, Jungkook did say it shows one’s inner desires, not make you act like a hormonal teenager.

In the depths of your self-wallowing, you come to an even more embarrassing conclusion – you don’t regret it. It’s hard to when your mind takes you back to his gentle caresses and sweet nothings. Your cheeks heat up remembering previous nights events. If they even were previous nights events? Through your still slightly foggy mind you recall seeing light flooding in and out.

But you do know one thing, whatever it was, was a one-time thing, and you need to leave before he comes back and the embarrassment spirals. You don’t know how you can face him; you know you’ll be awkward, and after all you weren’t the only who drank the questionable liquid, he must feel just as embarrassed as you do.

In hurry, you get up, and when you stand, you notice leaves wrapped around your previously hurt foot; your heart squeezes at the thoughtful gesture, which only further shows how much you need to leave. Now.

But that turns out to be harder than hoped to be – your clothes are nowhere in sight, so you grab a cloth hanging besides the bed, and do your best to wrap it around your body. You’re not sure how they wear it day-to-day, when you feel like one wrong move will make it fall. But then again, that’s just another example of how much you don’t belong here.

You notice a bowl of food besides the bed, carefully you touch it to see it’s still warm; that’s good, he must’ve left not so long ago. It’s hard to pint-point him as someone you should avoid when all of his actions are so caring.

It’s shame that drives you to escape his space, careful, going down the stairs, as your mind works slower than it usually does. Most of all you’re shocked by your own actions, never had you thought you’d fall victim to your desires, never had you known those sorts of desires even where part of your mind. But it does leave one question lingering, how well do you even know yourself, if you, without all the societies pressures and life’s barriers, are a stranger to yourself?

You try to rid all the unnecessary thoughts, focusing on finding your brother so you could finally leave. It’s a bittersweet goodbye when the place has thought you more about love than your whole life, but you don’t recognize yourself here, and that’s a too horrid thought to live with.

You look around the habitable, you were too out of it to notice where Jungkook led you, and this place is far too big for you to manage and find one person. Makeshift houses sit one by another, people following their daily regimes. You’re wandering around, trying to find at least one person you recognize, but the angel overlooking you has chosen to arise, when you notice the sweet woman who talked to you.

“Hi!” you call out for her; she’s talking to a slightly older woman, both standing in front of what seems to be a large water storage. She looks at you and recognition flash her eyes, and you breath out what could’ve been another awkward situation.

Your rush closer to her, but the closer you come to them, their actions stop, and they focus on your appearance, or more like, your forehead. Self-conscious you drag your fingers through your hair, you’re sure you look crazy, just woken up, hair all over the place and eyes blurry from your tumbling mind.

But they don’t look disgruntled, rather shocked, which turn to utmost happiness when you stop besides them, and they take a good look at you. You’re confused when she lightly hits the others woman’s shoulders, all while not taking her gaze off you.

“Have you seen my brother? Tae?” You look at her, hoping to gain some sort of information, but her unbreaking ‘deer caught in headlights’ gaze makes you awkwardly shuffle from one foot to another.

Their gazes meet and they fall into fits of laughter, she puts her hand over her mouth concealing a disbelief laugh but the other woman isn’t bothered to conceal her happiness, she puts her hands to the sky and chants something in her tongue.

You look confused at the woman you recognized, hoping she sees your lost appearance, but she takes a step closer to you, and you do your best to not flinch away when she drags her fingers over your forehead, light enough to barely feel.

You go to touch it yourself, but the chorus of simultaneous “No’s,” makes you stop in an instant. But you know it must be something about your forehead, their gazes haven’t left it for a second. Perplexed you move closer to the water storage and look at your reflection; to your utmost dismay, you notice on what they’re so focused on.

Instantly you dip your finger in water, embarrassed they saw Jungkooks dried blood marking your forehead. The little detail completely lost in the turbulence of previous events, all feeling like a fever-dream.

Just when water touches the mark, your hands are tightly gripped away from your skin. “No! What are you doing?” her alarmed gaze make you feel as though you’ve done something wrong, what you’re not sure.

The other woman rushes to check whether the mark got washed, but by the relief on her face you gather it had not. “Go. Jungkook.” She points back to his house, urging you to go back. “I have to find my brother.” Your stubbornness leaves them uneasy, but you press on it, and turn to the woman you recognize.

“I have to find him.” You try to convince her, “Jungkook isn’t even there! And I need to check if Tae’s alright.” You try to conceal your frustration at her doubtful gaze, not sure what’s the deal with going back to Jungkook.

She presses her lips, but finally gives in, “There,” she points to left, “He by the animals.”, grateful you quickly nod head, grateful to finally escape the awkward situation, but you guess one has to pay for their actions.

“Be quick.” She presses, and unexpectedly pulls you into her arms. Her touch is very comforting, the only problem being you don’t know what’s happening. The older woman comes to pat your head, and you see the gleam of happiness color her eyes.

A bit awkward you smile, this whole situation too confusing for your hazy mind. You nod your head, and with that, take off. You know for a fact you’ll grab your brother and leave, too embarrassed to see Jungkook like they press you to. But her words turn to be harder than hoped to, when you realize just how big their space is.

You’ve been tumbling around for at least 10 minutes, and the lingering gazes from everyone around you don’t help to ease your mind. You’re wondering whether you’re going in the wrong direction all together, but sigh in relief when animal pens come into view.

You had severely underestimated size of the tribe, their camp so vast you’ve been floundering around for a while, yet you still don’t see the end of it. You’re relieved noting how less people surround the animals, at least you don’t have to fight the urge to run from their intruding stares.

Even the animal enclosures are extensive, with slight pity you note how something similar to a clothing rack faces their pens, only instead of hanged clothes there’s different textures and lengths of hair. Unbeknownst to them, they face their unavoidable future, danger hanging in front of their eyes, and yet they wholeheartedly ignore it. One tuft of hair catches your eye, blonde, long hair flutters in the wind, and you're not sure what animal it belongs to, probably a horse, whichever it is, you choose to ignore it, and try to convince yourself that’s their destined future.

You go into a clearing, another set of stools surrounding what used to be a bonfire, something akin to the one you were at previously. And sitting on one of the stools is none other than your brother, chit-chatting with the same women he did the last time you saw him.

Relief floods through your system, grateful to see him alive and well. The whole idea of you being separated in an unknown place left you uneasy, even more so considering both of your injuries. But he looks well, smiling, red flush coloring his cheeks. No sign of the previous dark bruises and pale skin.

You’re about to shout his name when a weird beeping sound comes from your left. You almost ignore it, till you remember – you’re in a tribe. And the noise is awfully familiar to a technical device.

Your turn where you guess the sound is located to see a shed; reed roof covering it’s belonging from rain. You wonder whether you should go in and check, but the persistent noise comes once more, drawing you in.

With one last glance to your brother, you move to the shed, having an inkling feeling you shouldn’t be doing this, you feel like a fraud, overstepping some unknown laws. You look around to check no ones noticed you, and sneak in.

Light barely shines through the massive roof, you’ve to get used to the dim lighting to even understand what you’re surrounded by. But when you do, you see a table right in front of you, and on it, yours and Taes phones.

You forgot that they took your belonging from you, and you take your phone in your hands, noting how it’s more damaged than you thought, screen completely broken and to your disappointment – it won’t even turn on.

You glide your fingers over the screen, small shards of glass digging into your skin. Perhaps the battery ran out, but you were sure it worked the last time you used it. The same pinging sound comes from your left, the dark environment lit up for a second.

You turn around and freeze, considering the sight in front of you before light dims out. Phones stacked in columns rest on a table, one phone in particular hangs on its last thread, notifications of almost ran out battery lighting screen.

The sight leaves your mind fumbling, are you not the first ones they saved? Or have some tourists lost their phones and they just found them? You hope it’s the second option, you can’t see how a person would leave their phone willingly.

Doubts run through your mind when the phone tings once more, and you notice a dark, dried substance covering its upper screen. You grab the phone and press on the screen, battery has almost run out, hanging onto its last 5%.

But 5% is better than nothing. You swipe the screen, thankful for the lack of password and tilt your head in wonder when it opens to camera mode. Perhaps it’s overstepping the persons privacy, but your curiosity is spiked when the small square on the left bottom corner shows recent photos, that being of deep forest green.

It’s not right, you know it’s not right, but you still press on it. Video starts playing automatically, harsh words and screaming fills the otherwise quiet space. Startled, you pause the video and check whether someone heard you, but after a moment of silence, you turn the volume down and press play.

At first, you’re not sure what you’re looking at, the persons hands are shaking so heavily, it’s hard to pinpoint the scene. But you see knife in their hand, pointing it to someone in front, screaming. A man stands close to her and aims a gun in the same direction.

Video picks up in speed when tones increase, and words become harsher. In matter of a second, the gun is fired off, and the man is tackled to the ground. Whoever is filming cries in shock, before they swipe their knife forwards.

But it doesn’t go well, as the same second someone lunges their way, and throws them on the ground. The background is unfocused, but you see the man’s head being bashed with stone. Screaming increases in volume when the phone drops and for the first time you see the person who’s filming.

A blonde woman flails her hands around, crying, trying to get away from her attacker. But her screams are silenced when the same knife she threw is dragged across her throat. Blood splutters from her lips and the attacker lets her go.

You feel her fears like your own, when her hand reaches for her phones, and she tries to crawl away with no success. Her hands give out, and she falls under her weight, the video ends of her shiny, blonde hair drowning in blood.

It takes a second for everything to sink in, and when it does, overwhelming panic drowns you. Video wasn’t long, less than 30 seconds, but you play it again, frame by frame, trying to find anything that rebuttals your suspicion.

But to your dismay, one familiar tone of voice makes you replay it over and over again, till you find one snapshot, less than a second long, of blurry figures of their attackers. You know you can’t deny it when you capture the familiar leather clothing, and even more so, when you see a braid hanging over her attacker’s chest.

You notice another detail, when the woman tries to crawl away, a clearer picture of him appears and your stomach churns when you see him spitting on her in disgust. You know her attacker. You could recognize him any day.

Only now you don’t want to, and you try to lie to yourself and say you’ve never seen those deep mahogany eyes. Which, in part is true, his gaze brings you comfort, and peace, feeling of protection and love. But the eyes you’re staring at are nothing less than feral, deep rooted superiority and untamed rage.

It’s Jungkook.

You clutch the phone tighter when you notice another thing. Something that might save you. The single fluttering service line. You don’t waste a second calling for help, begging the line to go through. You’re scared to move, knowing how a single step might cut off the service.

But it goes through. When the line is answered you know you’re fighting against all odds, “Please help. We’re stranded in jungle, in a tribe. They kill people-” you ramble on, voice shaky, and tears falling uncontrollably. You hope you named the pathway Tae chose right, you weren’t too focused on details, and now, you hope it’s not your pitfall, “We’re going to be next, please help us!”

Person on the other side tries to speak, but their voice cuts off after every word, “Can you hear me?”, you cry out, but the line goes silent, and the battery has run out. You try to be silent, but it’s hard to conceal your cries when you realize the danger you’re facing.

You look at all the stacked phones, knowing, your ones will soon follow if you don’t get out now. There are easily hundreds of them, both the newest models, but also, ones you don’t recognize. You fear to imagine how many they’ve killed.

You run out of shed, the only thing on your mind to find your brother and get out, your gaze finds the animal pens, or rather what’s in front of them. The woman’s blond hair tainted in blood flashes through your mind. Those aren’t animal hairs, are they?

“Bee!” you hear Taes voice and quickly turn around, he’s smiling and beckoning you to come towards him. You sniffle your tears back, noticing the woman besides him watching you carefully, and put on a smile, they can’t know that you know.

You rush to him, smiling as widely as possible and ignore his snickering, “Well, well, what were you up to?” his boxy grin greets you, and you try to hold in your tears of terror, “Can we talk?” you look back at the woman and shoot her your best grin, “Alone.” You quietly force the words out, hoping only he hears the urgency behind them.

“Um, sure...?” he looks back at the woman, who hasn’t taken he eyes off of you. You hope it’s the stupid mark on your forehead, and not you acting strange. You tightly grip his hand and pull him away, hoping your steps don’t look too rushed.

“Is everything alright?” his concerned voice makes your tears resurface, only when you’re sure there’s no one listening in on you conversation, you stop behind a house, and face him, “We need to leave. Now. You were right, we’re not safe here.”

“Wait, what?” your rushed words leave him lost, confused by your sudden change of heart, “I saw a video. Video of them killing people. We’re going to be next, Tae, we have to leave.” His face falls at your teary eyes, and trembling voice. “Shit.”

“I don’t have the time to explain, but we need to leave.” He nods his head in understanding, you know you don’t have a lot of time, based on everyone urging you to go back to Jungkooks house, you know he’ll be searching for you, and considering that was a while ago – you have to hurry.

“What’s that?” his gaze moves to your forehead, and you shrug your shoulders clueless, “Jungkook marked me. I don’t know what that means. Perhaps I’m the first one they’ll finish off.” You cry out, and Tae looks conflicted, “He found me before they went off hunting. Dunno what that was about but he put his hands on my shoulders and said welcome. Thought it was him apologizing for being a dick couple nights ago, but now-”

“So, they are in the forest now?” he nods his head, “Do you know from which side they went off?” your mind is spiraling, forest is their home, and if you want to have any possibility of escaping alive, you have to gain at least some sort of leverage.

“Far off end, not here. There is a clearing close enough, not many of them walk there. That might be our best bet.” You nod along, taking in everything he says. He grabs your hand and pulls you forward to what you assume, is the said clearing.

You’re careful with your steps, looking around for any unwanted followers. Every step feels like a ticking time-bomb, but Tae is right, this side is less inhabited, couple lonesome houses in midst of evergreen trees.

You stop near the edge and share a knowing look; this is your only chance. Even though the risk of being lost in jungle is great, you haven’t eaten anything in days, feet bare and clothing less than ideal, there’s no choice but to proceed.

And just like that, you run. Your heart pounds aggressively in your chest, and feet hurt with every step, but fear keeps you going. You can’t stay here, you know you’ll be the next one, why exactly they haven’t finished you off yet is a mystery in itself, but you’re not willing to wait and find out.

You smell freedom when the habitat turns greener with each of your steps, and your steps quicken, Tae close behind you. But you underestimated the tribe, if they managed to seek after you like an animal, there’s no chance they’d leave you running around, free to go whenever you wanted.

You learn your lesson when the ground beneath you crumbles. One single misstep, and you’re falling. Tae barely manages to catch you, his hands wrap around your waist when you scream, his body almost falling with you.

You watch in horror how the masked leaves fall one after the other like dominoes, and your gaze moves with them to see a steep ditch covering the entire area of the site, circling your only means of exit. A sharp sound like a whiplash follows soon after, and you realize you’ve run straight into a trap when the unmasked ditch has triggered a sturdy net to fall from the trees.

Wherever you turn your head, the trap follows, disturbing birds that fly high over your head away from danger. Oh, how you’d love to accompany them. Breathless, you grasp Taes’ hands around your waist, your only means of safety, holding you from falling to what might as well be your death.

“Shit”, he gasps in your ear, and you know you’re truly fucked when rushed steps and shouts near you. “What do we do now?” He balances you back on the ground, evident fear coloring his voice; as much as you’d love to step into the older sisters’ shoes and ease his mind, quickly figuring out a way to salvage the problem, you’re left speechless.

Even if you somehow manage to jump over the ditch, the net is too high to climb over and the netting too tough to tear. But there’s no time to think when you feel a sharp sting over your leg. Its force makes you fall on all fours, biting back a scream of pain you see a spear impaled on the other side of the ditch.

Fearful, you turn around to see a swarm of people surrounding you and your brother, another spear is thrown, but this time toward your brother, who barely manages to duck before it hits his body. Tears fall as you notice all the weapons pointed at you, and you’re just about ready to be impaled when a woman shrieks something in her tongue, and points at you.

It must be a sign to finish you off, you’re sure of it, you curl up awaiting the attack, but it never comes, rather you see the woman hit the man’s head who threw his spear at you. Your gaze quickly roams over the group, frightened by their relentless stares, but you notice one consistency – they’re pointing to your forehead.

You quickly touch it, confused about what’s happening, but when you do, a chorus of shouts come your way telling you to stop. And you realize what’s the hold-up, it’s the mark, Jungkooks blood smeared over your skin from yesterday.

As if he’s summoned, he runs through the crowd of people with a group of men following closely behind him. His gaze instantly meets yours, and you see the shock traveling through his system as he takes in your bleeding skin and terrified expression.

Just like a switch being flipped, he steps into his domineering aura; even though you’re away from him, you feel the energy of his anger like a shock wave crashing over you, the sparkling eyes and gentle touch which you oh, so adored nowhere present.

Overwhelmed with rage Jungkook turns to his people and barks something in their tongue, the tone of his voice makes you cover and for the first time, you’re glad you don’t understand what he’s saying.

You see the man who shot you fall to his knees, head deeply bowed down and hands put into a praying position. You don’t have to understand their language to know he’s begging, but his prayers aren’t answered when he’s forced to stand up. And in a blink of an eye, his neck is snapped.

What you wouldn't be willing to do, to return to yesterday when everything was so sweet you were bracing yourself for a toothache. But just as you feared, the shoe had to drop, only you didn’t expect the price to be your life.

The feral glint in Jungkooks eyes brings you back to the video, whatever dream you were living in these past days is broken, the man who once brought you comfort now terrifies you, but worse of all – you have nowhere to go, stuck with him, waiting for your demise.

You use the chaos around you and turn to Tae, whose eyes haven’t left the unmoving man’s body, “We have to run,” you whisper in a trembling voice, you’ve no plan, the only option is to hide, but even that’s farfetched – this is their home, they know every nook of it.

“Can you?” you look at your bleeding leg, the injury hurts as it is, but you refuse to gift them your life without a fight. You turn back to Tae and slowly nod your head, unsure of the answer yourself.

Careful to not attract any attention, you shuffle to your left, but your movement is caught instantly, “Don’t.” Jungkooks baritone voice freezes your body. You know he’s speaking to you, but you’re lost how he even noted the movement; his back is turned to you, his hand raised in your direction. Their sense of movement would be remarkable if you weren’t fighting for your life.

He turns around and faces you, and slowly starts walking towards you. But the closer he is, the more danger you’re facing, so you do your best to make him stop, “We will leave now. Thank you for your help, but it’s time for us to go.”

You try to sound confident, but that turns out hard under his untamed gaze. For a second it works, he stops in his tracks and overthinks your words, but when his jaw ticks and steps fasten, you know you’ve only made it worse.

“Leave? You’re hurt.” He kneels down besides you, and you can’t stop your body from flinching when his hands inspect your wound. “I will find help, but now, we must leave.” You repeat your words, careful to keep your voice down as to not aggravate him more.

But it seems no matter what you do, it only serves to tick him, “No.” his tone leaves no room for objection, and his hold tightens around your leg. “You’re marked. You’re one of us now. Why would you even want to leave, when I can offer you what I know you long for.” He cups your cheeks and tries to smile, but the untamed flames haven’t subsided in his eyes, and his smile looks more like a grimace.

“Safety, protection, love.” He pulls you closer when he mutters the last word, trying to awaken the memories of his soft touch the night before, but all your mind manages to make up is the vast cruelty with which he drove the knife over the woman’s neck, how easy it was for him to kill the man just now. You’re repulsed by his touch.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from whispering the terrifying truth, “You kill people, Jungkook.”.

His eyebrows furrow at your words, and almost as if he’s offended, he points to the unmoving body behind, “Him? He hurt you. He hurt a woman – he hurt his leaders’ woman-” he presses, but you don’t let him finish, “He’s not the only one.”

Thick silence enfolds, one neither of you want to break. You remind yourself you’re walking on eggshells, that he’s unstable and you have to keep your mouth shut, but somehow, the recent events feel like a betrayal of you and everything you hoped for; for once, your let down your guard, and now, you’ve to pay the price and fight for your life.

After a while in silence, Jungkook shakes his head, voice becoming more desperate “I don’t kill. I protect.”. What’s all the more terrifying is the conviction in his eyes, you know he’s spiraling, lied to himself enough times he has started to believe in it himself. But you know better, when the fake illusion drops, you don’t want to be the bearer of it all.

“Listen man, we better go. It was nice mee-” Tae cites your own words, but when his skin touches yours, the unsteady walls collapse and in one swing, Tae’s on the ground. Screech of terror escapes you, and you almost fall down the trench, if it weren’t for Jungkooks fast reflexes.

He takes his opportunity and pulls you closer to him, your body trembling out of fear, not taking your eyes off of your brother, who groans on the grass. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, but all you can focus on is his vice grip locking you besides him.

“You don’t have to be scared any more. No one will hurt you, I’m here, it’s okay.” He shushes your cries, which only makes you cry harder. “I’ll make sure you never feel lonely again, I’ll be always right by your side.”

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #btsyandere #jungkook yandere #yandere #jk yandere #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic

2K notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

Text

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— happy home day + eijirou kirishima.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — exactly one a year after adopting from the pound, kirishima plans a special surprise for you, his special little puppy hybrid, on their birthday.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up, smut, fluff, hybrids, lingerie, collars, creampies, dumbification, possessiveness, pet-names, body-worship, orgasm-denial, dom-sub, unprotected sex, praise!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, afab!reader, puppy hybrid!reader, pro hero + owner!kirishima.

⭑ words — 4.3K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! i wanted to post something so had you guys vote on what you wanted to see next. the winner ended up being kirishima <3! this was a birthday fic commissioned by my baby @eijirhoe ( who has given me permission to post ) and was beta read by the lovely @vagabondings!! i hope you enjoy !! kiss kiss - m.list ✩

“for fucks sake, kirishima, that is not a fuckin’ guard dog.”

only katsuki bakugou could be this miserable in an adoption centre for adorable hybrids— kittens, bunnies, mice and puppies alike. the redhead gives the employee standing nearby an apologetic mix between a smile and a grimace, the poor thing shaking in their boots at the proximity of the dynamight.

“katsuki, don’t yell. you’ll scare the ‘lil thing,” he pouts, sticking his fingers through the wire bars on the cage— coaxing the little hybrid inside closer. “and i thought you said german shepherds made great guards!” kirishima wiggles his digits again, pursing his lips to make those kissy sounds that are usually used to call to cats and crouches down to the height of the enclosure.

bakugou smacks him upside the head but takes a stance beside his rioting hero friend before signing dejectedly. “wrong sound idiot, you’re meant to whistle,” the two strong, and surely intimidating men spare a glance at the cowering hybrid as katsuki whistles in an attempt to gain some trust. “and they usually do, but this one looks like they might shit themselves if someone looks at them funny. not a guard dog.”

“but bakugou—“

“i hate to interrupt, mister riot. mister dynamight.” the employee from earlier steps in, steeling her nerves as she gestures to the cage the puppy hybrid is in. “but if this one doesn’t get adopted soon, i’m afraid they’re going to be put down. we don’t have the space for slightly quieter and apprehensive hybrids like them, no one really wants them if they’re not overly friendly or energetic and…if they do it’s usually for the like…”

“hybrid farms,” bakugou finishes for the kid, his voice thick with disgust. “just shut one of those down the other day. awful fuckin’ places.”

kirishima pouts again, peering into your cage— noting the gloss in your big pretty eyes and how you shrink in on yourself, tail pinned to the ground without the happy swish to it that other puppy hybrids in the centre have. “so…” he can’t imagine what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen to have ended up here. “if they don’t get adopted today, they’ll be put down? isn’t there any other way? that hardly seems fair.”

“to us it’s a little more humane than ending up at a hybrid farm or those indecent love hotels exclusively for sex with hybrids…” the employee trails off again, nervously fidgeting with their fingers. in the distance, a bell chimes with the notification of more customers— a mother and her child, probably looking to adopt one of the younger, nosier hybrids for their family. “if you’ll excuse me…”

“i’ll take ‘em!” red riot blurts without even thinking, the employee not having taken two steps away from him and his angry blonde friend who looks at him like he’s gone bat-shit crazy. “this is their only chance, right? i have to do something, they don’t deserve to go out like this.” the blonde closes his mouth, holding his protests thoughtfully.

he’s right. kirishima is right, his kind soul always is. “ai’ght, fine. but don’t expect me to train that thing, they ain’t nowhere near close t’bein’ a guard dog.” bakugou grunts, folding his arms across his broad chest with a faux look of dismay— not admitting how impressed he is with eijirou.

eijirou kirishima has a heart of gold, he’s always been like that— putting others before himself because he believes in them. he takes in strays, builds up their strength and their confidence, letting them know that he’ll always be the sturdy figure they can fall back on in times of need. katsuki was one of those strays, an unwanted dog just like you. he’d bared his fangs to the sweet redhead in fear of letting in someone that would hurt him, but as it turns out, becoming friends with someone as selfless as kirishima was just what katsuki needed.

the employee sighs, shoulders sagging with relief as they glance between the two pro heroes. “should i be getting the adoption papers then?”

with an enthusiastic nod, red riot peers back at you with affectionate eyes and a smile you can trust— one that only widens when you bump your head against his fingers over the bars of your pen and let the tips of them just brush your lush puppy dog ears. “yes please,” he says warmly, his gaze never leaving you. “don’t you worry about a thing little one, it’s you and me now, got it?”

and for the first time in forever, your tail wags happily, and you don’t feel worried at all.

being adopted by eijirou kirishima most probably saved your life.

he’d been eager to get you out of that shelter, with the promise of a better life written against his lips and lost under his tongue as he babbled about your new home and how excited he was to have a puppy hybrid of his own. a timid, sweet faced and jumpy german-shepherd hybrid nothing like their breed— with big eyes, a set of pointed and twitchy puppy dog ears and a tail that stays pinned to the ground with nervousness. there’s a lot for him to undo, a lot of trust to build up.

kirishima was patient when introducing you to his home that only big time pro hero money could buy— he let you sniff out the place, scenting areas that made you feel safe even having his comforting, large presence right beside you was enough to make your ears perk up and heightened senses go wild. he let you pick out the biggest spare room in the house and had even felt sad for you when you stated that you’d never had your own before.

“with me, i’ll make sure you have everything you want ‘n more, kay pup? things will never go back to the way they were for you.” the red head swore to you, crossing his heart — that was the first time you’d ever felt love like that.

the two of you quickly fall into an easy routine; kirishima would leave for work in the mornings after making sure he’d set out the perfect meal a growing pup, like you, would need— using all sorts of kibble that his explosive friend katsuki had recommended. occasionally he’d spoil you with pieces of turkey bacon that he knew you weren’t allowed to have, but what was the harm in spoiling someone who hadn’t experienced luxury before? plus he liked the way your German shepherd tail would wag and your pupils would dilate at the sight of the meaty meal.

eijirou made sure you had all the toys possible to play with while he was away for work— you didn’t like sitters and nearly chewed out the last one katsuki had recommended for a nervous puppy such as yourself. you didn’t like her scent and how it had gotten all over your owner. you preferred to be alone, surrounded by the pinewood and musky husk the redhead would leave behind. and, by the time he came home from being red riot, you’d be sitting right by the door with big bambi eyes to welcome him home, the little bell on your store-bought collar jingling as you rush to meet kirishima at eight pm sharp each day.

though you’re pampered with treats and pretty things and ear scratches 24/7– kirishima does have you trained by that awful bakugou. you’re by no means a guard dog, despite what your hybrid breed might indicate— but you’re disciplined with house rules and how to sit and act properly. bakugou is mean and he snarls at you from time to time, but the praise and kisses you get from your darling and sweet red haired owner make the training completely worth it.

nowadays, katsuki doesn’t even question when you scamper onto the couch or perch yourself on eijirou’s lap whenever they have their boys nights to watch the hero rankings live. “pampered fuckin’ pooch,” is all he grunts from over his can of beer.

“hey,” eijirou will huff, his hands on the fat of your waist or twirling through your fluffy brown and black tail. “don’t be mean, katsuki. they don’t know any better.”

even with all that house training— you still sneak into his bed when being on your own gets too much. his warmth calms you, and eijirou doesn’t seem to mind the brush of your thick and soft tail against his thighs in the morning. “pup, you’re not s’pposed to be on the bed,” he’d tried to scold you the first time it happened, he really did, but your ears lay flat against your skull and you gave him those eyes and kirishima was quick to dive in next to you— asking you what was wrong. “nightmares huh? of the pound? well, those can’t be very nice. maybe you should share a bed with me tonight. one night won’t hurt, will it?”

except one night, becomes every single night.

repeatedly, each night, eijirou scoops you up into his flexing, toned arms and carries you to his room instead of your own— tucks you under his weighted duvets not yours, and swamps you with his body heat. he runs like a furnace during the later hours, not that you mind, it’s nice to be close to him. to feel adored like that.

yourself and kirishima are touchier than most hybrid-owner pairs, you’ve noticed. bakugou thinks it’s because you have a clingy-attachment style, the red head because you’ve been deprived of the affection that most pups deserve. he goes beyond headpats and chin scratches, and the ones that itch right behind your floppy fluffy ears. kirishima keeps a hand on the slope of your waist when he takes you for walks on sunny days, he holds your hand instead of your leash most of the time and his lips linger against your forehead a little longer than normal for a hybrid that’s just a housepet.

you think it’s normal at least, you’ve never been cared for like this and having eijirou’s attention some, if not all, of the time feels like a dream come true. you know that he loves you when actions of endearment become more passionate— when innocent cheek kisses become sloppier lip-locks and when hugs turn into desperate attempts to grab at your flesh, also when your heat cycles become less about finding a mate and more about begging kirishima to ravage you against the nearest surface, soothing the instinctual ache in your bones and lower tummy.

he loved you, and you loved him— and you knew that you owed it all to kirishima for the better life he gave you. taking a chance on a shy little puppy hybrid at risk of being put down.

taking a chance on you.

“angel, ‘m home!”

the rustling of brown paper bags, heavy foot-steps and keys jingling in the front door make your puppy dog ears twitch and you perk up from your place deeper in the house at the sound of kirishima coming home from a long day’s work. you scramble up to meet him half-way into the kitchen, tail swishing a mile a minute behind you, nose wriggling in anticipation. “e-eji!” you breathe, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “you’re back!”

you’re so cute, so loyal that it warms the pro hero right down to his core. kirishima nods once, giving you the go ahead to latch onto him since you’d waited so patiently and lets out a small chuckle as you tuck yourself into his side. “i always come back, don’t i?” setting the bags on the marble island, he frees up a hand to brush over your head softly, using a knuckle to rub behind your ear. “have you been good, baby?” moving to cup your cheeks next, he presses a gentle smooch to the tip of your nose. “‘course you have, you’re always good f’me…but, i gotta know— did ya miss me?”

“i always miss you,” you say a little too quickly, nuzzling into the palm of red riot’s large hand, tail wagging even faster. “can i…can i have a kiss, eiji? please.”

for a moment, a primal look flashes through the hero’s eyes before being replaced with something softer, something that mirrors the smile he gives you. “only ‘cause you asked so nicely, baby,” he says playfully, sliding his hands from your face down to your waist and tugging you nice and close, your hips flush against one another. “c’mere puppy, gimme some sugar, hm?” your body can’t help but bristle, keening into kirishima’s touch as he subtly lowers his voice and guides you into following his command.

you stand on your tiptoes without even realising it, tilting your head upwards as kirishima coaxes your mouth open with his mellow moving tongue—sighing sweetly against your lips until he’s captured them properly in a slow kiss, not giving you too much but pouring enough words into it to let you know how much he cares for you. he pulls away so things don’t too heated, but still keeps his hands on you before you can whine in protest.

“what’s that?” you ask softly, cocking your head to the side when you notice the bags behind him.

“oh those? well,” kirishima swoops down to your height, nipping your nose with pointed teeth— only serving to make it scrunch up adorably. “i heard it was a certain pup’s birthday today…and it also happens to be the one year anniversary of their adoption. so i got ‘em a lil’ somethin’ to celebrate.”

he lives for the way you smile, almost dies at how your eyes sparkle. “c-can i open it eji?”

“not all of it, pumpkin,” eijirou briefly lets you go and you really do whimper this time, knowing better than to claw at him to stay when you know he’ll be right back. the burly redhead turns to grab a perfectly wrapped package from within the brown paper bag and passes it to you with an eager grin. “go put this on f’me, will you baby? then meet me in the living room once you’re done, for the rest of your present, kay?”

“okay! i’ll be quick!” you practically squeal, vibrating in your place.

“good pup, i’ll be waitin’,” he turns you around with a grip that's barely there, handling you as if you’ll break with too much force and patting you on the bum softly as you go.

by the time you return to the living room, it’s been completely transformed.

the lighting is dimmed, a ruby glow filtering through and the soft hum of your favourite song reverberates against the walls and high ceilings. kirishima seems to be fixing a box on the coffee table by the couch before he notices you, a slick and sexy grin tugging at the corners of his lips as you approach him. “there’s my pretty puppy,” he rasps lowly, sending a shiver from the tips of your ears right down to your toes. “god, i think i made the right choice pickin’ that cute lil’ number out for ya, looks so good on you, hun.”

heat pulses under your skin like buzzing kinetic energy, making you tuck the swell of your cheek into your shoulder bashfully, fluffy ears flattening against your skull. “you think so?” said number is a darling little babydoll dress, made of black silk and red lace lace accents that tickle the backs of your thighs with hearts embroidered at the chest.

“it looks perfect on you baby, you’re breathtakin’,” kirishima tells you earnestly, holding his hand out for you to hold— which you take shyly. “c’mere, twirl f’me? wanna see all of you. show off for me, cutie.” every single one of his compliments has your tail swaying from side to side and blood rushing to your brain, making you dizzier than the cute little spins you do for him while the pro hero sinks into the couch to watch you.

he leans back, thighs spreading wide— and you have to fight the urge to drop your gaze between them. “that’s it pretty thing, my puppy’s such a fuckin’ stunner.” kirishima swallows thickly, ruby glossed eyes darkening with desire. “come t’daddy pup, wanna give you your other gift.”

you quickly shift to stand between his spread legs, quivering like you’re cold has large and rough hands swallow your waist and bunch your night dress up at your hips. he presses sloppy kisses to the softness of your tummy over the material.

“sit.” he commands simply, tugging on your hips to pull you down with him

“yes daddy,” your breathing is ragged as you sink into kirishima’s lap, thighs apart so that you can straddle him properly. you wonder if he can hear your heart racing from its place in your chest— your heightened hybrid senses can already pick up on his, kirishima’s pulse sky-rocketing now that you’re on top of him. “c-can i have my gift now?”

his calloused hand pushes the black silk up and over the curve of your ass, red riot digging into the fat of it to rock you back and forth over is hardening girth. “r’member your manners, puppy. yer s’pposed to ask daddy nicely.” nonetheless, he relents and snatches up the box on the coffee table— handing it to you to unravel. “open it up, baby.”

excitedly, you tear through the daintily wrapped package, revealing a red patent leather collar—decorated with red and black bows, and a heart shaped tag with the letters ‘EK’ inscribed into it. collaring was a big deal in the hybrid community, it meant a permanent mark, belonging to someone, being in love.

“let me put it on you,” eijirou simpers, readily slipping the leather around your neck and sliding two fingers underneath it to tug your lips up to his. “i love you, pup.” he confesses, licking into your mouth hungrily and grinding up into your dripping heat.

it’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten and so fast, dumbly following him to the forest fire of lust, sucking on his tongue like a parched puppy lapping at the first drink it can get. hybrids slick up faster when aroused and kirishima turns you on like no other— somehow finding your panty covered clit between your salacious bump and grind.

slumping against his beefy chest, your nails dig deep into his shoulders and whistle tone dog squeaks bubble up on the swell of your lips each time eijirou swipes the pad of his thumb over your swelling pleasures nub, encouraging your juices to gush over his hard on—glueing you both together by strings your arousal.

“i love you too…p-please e-eiji!” the air in the room feels heavier, tainted with the lust that clouds your logical thought. in fact, you can’t even think right with the way your owner toys with you. he drools against your puppy tongue, curses into your heated mouth all while you’re riding his fingers like your life depends on it, kirishima pinching at your sticky clit just to hear more of your needy whines. “p-please daddy,”

the hand that once sat lightly against your neck now trails over each dip and curve of your body, barely brushing over your nipples or digging into the meat of your ass and thighs. “you look so fuckin’ good in the things i buy you, hun, drive me fuckin’ insane,” kirishima fights back a moan, cock twitching against your ass, desperate to be inside of you. “so beautiful in that lil’ dress, with my name around your neck. fuck… ‘m so lucky. my pup, daddy’s sexy fuckin’ puppy.” he rambles and praises you all at once, giving you whiplash, making you clench and ooze sweetly around nothing.

you’re sure that the redhead is almost as brainless and as fucked out as you are just from dry humping his darling little pup… but through his own grunts and groans, hips wildly bucking up to meet yours— kirishima still manages to dominate you, make you feel like you don’t even have to think around him. “you want me, pup, is that it? want me to fuck you?” he hums huskily against the shell of your ear, pinging your collar against your neck when you nod your head yes wordlessly. “gotta—fuck— gotta use your words f’daddy, c’mon now, you know that.”

“y-yes daddy, want you. badly.” you slur, and suddenly, your world tilts on its axis. your back hits the sofa with a bounce and you're pinned against it by the weight of your owner above you, your knees being pushed into your shoulders.

“a-always such a good…obedient lil thing f’me,” eijirou groans at the sight of you beneath him. “so perfect, ‘m so lucky t’have such a beautiful puppy all to myself, shit!” your silk baby doll gathers at your hips, soaked panties tucked to the side and your glistening, pulsing mound on display like an attraction made just for him. he wastes no time in yanking down his sweats and boxers in one go— revealing his bright red and angry dick, covered in a thick layer of gooey white precum. all for you. kirishima slaps the length of himself against your slit once, twice before his forehead falls against yours.

“p-put it in eiji, c-can’t wait daddy…”

even though your cute little sex makes him a wreck, eijirou still manages to hold control over you— teasing you as he forces his fat tip past your tiny, creamy entrance. “so impatient, cutie, i should make you say please… but fuck, i need you so bad right now. might not last long…”

the pair of you let out strained moans as kirishima pushes in and he reaches the hilt—your sweaty bodies flush against one another, both of you covered in layers of each other’s arousal. your pussy flutters at being filled up so fast, clinging onto the pretty blue veins that spiral around his chubby, swollen cock— a low whine rumbles in your chest as the redhead sets a rough stream to his thrusts, milky cockhead brushing against each pulse point on your sensitive walls.

it’s almost like you’re being knotted, squelching as kirishima tries to pull out of your snug sex that grips him selfishly. all the while, he pounds you to hell and back. you're so full, you’re a slobbering mess already teetering on the edge of insanity. red riot leans over you, washboard abs pressed against the backs of your thighs to force you down into the creaky couch— each time he withdraws from your messy and wet walls, your ears fall back and your tail thumps hard against the cushions, coated in your viscous nectar.

“fuck, this puppycunt sounds so dirty, gorgeous…feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he whispers to you, words damp on your cupid’s bow. “my perfect puppy, a dumb lil’doggy on my cock…s’such a fuckin’ dream.” your brain empties, becomes a void that’s filled with only eijirou kirishima and the way he fucks you deep, hits every spot, touches your body like a man worshipping a higher power. “‘m so lucky baby, really am.”

your collar jingles, the pendant with his name on it bouncing every time kirishima’s cock bullies its way into your gooey insides until they give into him. you’re the lucky one, you think— lucky to be loved like this, to have been rescued from the pound and pinned down on a dick that aches to be inside you, wrapping around his pulsing length to the point where you’re practically milking him already.

“d-daddy!” you hiccup, big fat tears clumping in your lashes, your face a beautiful mess to the man above you. “i can’t…”

the pro hero reaches down between your bodies, close to cumming just from listening to you howl over the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and tugs at your soft slick tail—stroking it until your pussy quivers and gushes around him, painting your babydoll dress and his half rolled down sweats with a fresh wave of your essence. every time he pets the fluffy appendage, you get wetter and wetter, tighter and tighter and your moans loud enough to wake the neighbours.

heavy hips rock into you, even heavier balls clap creamily against your fleshy ass and kirishima lets his head drop to your neck—biting and sucking possessively at exposed skin just above where your collar lies. “yes you fuckin’ can, your daddy’s good pup right?” he slurs hungrily, writing his claim against your throat. “when you get close, hold it f’daddy, be obedient ‘n you’ll get your reward.”

you feel like everything’s on fire, every nerve ending in your body buzzing with anticipation— the knot in your stomach seconds away from unwinding. “b-but daddy—!”

“hold it.” eijirou warns sternly, though his breath stutters— every instinct that he has threatening to breed you up full with a load of his hot cum. “h-hold it, hon,” you sob at the pain and pleasure of holding off, thighs twitching, tail hitting the couch hard and puppy ears flopping over your face. you’re so adorable like this, jolting up the piece of furniture as the redhead languidly canters into you. he finally breaks when you let out a weak cry of his name, his first spurts of cum pouring into you. “f-fuck, let go for me puppy, make a mess on daddy’s cock—shit, thats it. so good, all over me, wanna see you cummin’ with me…”

white hot ropes of seed paint your insides just as your eyes roll back into your skull. he feels so warm, coating your insides with a layer of his cum as if to claim you from the inside out. there’s so much of it that oozes out of your entrance thickly, like a running tap of honey that ruins your pussy lips with opaque white—triggering your own orgasm. kirishima holds you close, whispers sweet nothings into your ear as your release crashes over you, rocking your world while your juices splatter out against his pelvis and all over your cute little gown in clear streams.

“happy birthday, beautiful,” the redhead mumbles to you sweetly, kissing his initials on your pendant and right up to your lips. “i love you.”

“t-thank you eiji,” you whisper back— a sleepy, full and content puppy. “i love you too.”

2K notes · View notes

hotheadedhero · 1 month ago

Note

Just so you know I’m shaking your writing like a dog with a squeaky toy it’s so GOOD!!

Like seriously you write Raph amazingly you nail this big sweetheart so well! First Date is specially framed in my mind for me to stare at lovingly in awe there are SO many good parts to that story where do I begin??

Raph’s brothers roping him into a date? So accurate

Leo whispering “fly my pretties” to a cage of dove?? This drama kid WOULD do that

Raph catching his date before falling? WOO! We love our Red Angel of Preventing Harm!

Raph buying his date some food after the near fall with the birds?? What a goddamn sweetheart!

Raph lending his date his hoodie?? Where’s this turtles good boy certificate!

Raph doing a little happy victory dance after the date is over?? Raphael is the bestest turtle ever and I don’t want him to ever think differently!

Sorry if this is a little lengthy I just love First Date so much! I get such cutesy aggression with it it’s an adorable story and it’s definitely one of my favourites with Raph! I know it says requests are closed but do you have any other ideas in mind for Raph centred stories?? Could you maybe share any ideas you’ve got in mind? (If not that’s cool look forward to whatever you post next!)

I am... unequivocally floored, speechless, and brimming with such joy omg. This has brought tears to my eyes, thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed First Date 😭🙏 And don't you dare apologise Anon! I love hearing lengthy thoughts about my writing as I'm sure plenty of writers do heheh

Genuinely, it took a lot of thought and I'm so happy to hear that all the ideas I put so much work into it paid off! It's pretty crazy to think how the end product turned out considering how many pieces were rearranged and some even scrapped completely. There's nothing quite like a story that just really gets it going for ya, so to hear that one of mine does that? Amazing!

And I would love to say that I have more of our big sweetheart being the friendly giant that he is but, unfortunately, not at the moment. There's a couple Rise headcanons in the works but that's about it. I do, however, have some other iterations of Raph that I'm trying to work on, though, so there's that! :)

Thank you so SO much again for this lovely feedback, you have no idea how much my heart has been reduced to gush rn

Love to you and everyone else out there! Stay beautiful <3

#i can't #my eyes are still watery #if i could hug #i would #virtual hug it is #<3 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #raphael #raph #rottmnt #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt x reader #x reader #first date

42 notes · View notes

whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

Text

The Smell Of The Holidays

Kostas Tsimikas x Fem!Reader

Warnings: friendly neighbourly chats, sweet moments with kos and his puppies, a heartfelt thank you, a little crush from kos's end, some tattoo exploring, sexual tension, it's giving sub!kostas for a minute there, thigh riding - it's more dry humping than thigh riding but I digress, oral (f!receiving), 0.2 seconds of fingering, finger sucking, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie.

Word Count: 3,565

Author's Note: I think this is my favourite and the longest fic so far. dedicated to the president of the kostas fan club, miss ivy @curiousthyme <333

merry smutmas series

You over baked for your niece’s holiday bake sale so you do the neighbourly thing and share with your neighbour, Kostas and his two puppies.

Your brother was a single father, he’s a busy guy that he works long hours and you help out with your niece in whatever way you can. Your brother can’t bake to save his life so when she comes home saying she needs treats for the bake sale, he calls you.

You were baking treats for her holiday bake sale; cupcakes, cookies, brownies, lemon bars - you name it, you baked it.

The bake sale was for the whole school, they were raising money for a charity who helped underfund kids, or something along the lines. With your niece's missing tooth, she didn't annunciate the best.

You have been baking all day and it wasn't until you turned around to set the final tray of cookies down that you realized you had run out of counter, dining room, coffee table and couch space. The cooled and frosted cookies, brownies and cupcakes were sitting on the couches in their trays, the ones that were needing to be frosted were on the tables and you had the hot pans on your counters.

Carefully, you shifted a few things around to set the hot pan down, leaving it to cool.

Your hands on your hips, you looked around; you've baked yourself into a conundrum.

It wasn't until you heard the barking next door that you realized what you could do with all of the extra treats that you were baked. You finished frosting the last of what needed to be frosted before packing them away neatly into their trays and loading them into your car.

You went back inside and picked up a small tray that you had set aside specifically for your next door neighbour, Kostas.

He was kind and sweet and kept to himself most of the time. He had two puppies, who weren't really puppies but you addressed them as such; Maui and Fuerte. Kostas wasn't home much as he was very busy with his job but every now and then you'll see him in his backyard with his dogs, training or swimming laps or whatever it is that he does out there.

It's a neighbourly hello and a few tummy rubs for the puppies before you head out and go about your day.

You balance the tray with one arm, setting the majority of its weight against your jutted out hip. You knock on the door and wait for someone to answer. There's some barking before the door opens, you can hear Kostas shooing the puppies away to stop them from coming out.

Behind him, you can see into the living room; a massive tree stood tall in the centre by the window, ornaments hung plentiful along the green branches. There's a few other Christmas-related things around the entryway.

"Hey!" He smiles, black sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a white vest that clung to his chest in all the right places; you scolded yourself for gawking at him. "Y/n, right?" He points to you with his finger.

"Yeah," you smiled at him, "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all," he shakes his head, shifting to stop the dog you know as Maui from coming outside. She poked her head between his legs, looking up at you curiously. "What's up?" He asks, watching as you look lovingly at his puppy.

"My niece is having a bake sale at school and asked me to bake some treats for her and the thing is, I went a little overboard." You laughed. "I realized I made too much, and I figured I would do the neighbourly thing and bring some over for you."

"Oh," he smiles at you, taking the tray that was heavier than it looked from you. "Thank you very much, I was wondering if someone opened a bakery around here. I've been smelling it since this morning."

A soft laugh slipped past your lips as you shrugged. "It got hot with the oven running so I opened the window."

Kostas nods, shifting his leg a bit as Maui tries to wiggle her head away from his legs. You smiled at the dog, peeking over Kostas's left shoulder to see her tugging on a toy with Fuerte.

"The ones with the frosting on it aren't puppy friendly but I put some in there that don't have frosting so you could share with them. There's also a few brownies and other things, I wasn't sure what you like, so I tried to put a mix of everything."

Kostas nods, thinking to himself that it was very sweet of you to consider his puppies when packing the tray. "Was that intentional? You know, catering to the puppies ?"

"Yes but also no. I did intentionally not put frosting on some of them for the pups, but you know kids and their allergies, all the ingredients are safe for the puppies. I made sure to double check."

"Thank you, y/n. I really appreciate it - we're gonna be eating these for the rest of the week." He says, glancing down at the tray. "Would you like to come in?" He steps to the side a bit, and as much as you want to say yes, you don't.

"Unfortunately, I have to get treats over to my brother's house so perhaps another time?" You looked at him, hoping for a yes to your rain check.

"Definitely," he nods. "Thank you again."

"Anytime!" You skipped down the pathway, giggling like a teenager with a crush. Kostas watched from his front door, smiling at you. "Have a good day, y/n!" He calls after you.

"You too, Kos!"

The nickname was something he heard often, mostly from his teammates, but it was the way you said it that made him blush and almost giggled like a school boy with a crush.

Kostas shut the front door and set the tray on his dining room table. As he takes the tinfoil off the top, all he can think about is what he can do to find himself in your presence yet again.

---

A few have gone by since you dropped in at Kostas's place and you had only seen him in passing since then.

You had successfully dropped off the treats for your niece and she called you to let you know that they were a hit. You had gone about your week as normal, tidying up and getting your place ready for the holiday season.

There was a knock on your door, you're a bit confused seeing that you weren't expecting anything or anyone, but you wiped your hands on the side of your shorts and found your way to the front door.

Much to your surprise, it was Kostas at the door; a pleasant surprise that is.

There's a rectangular box in his hand and an envelope on top. One hand on the bottom, and one hand on top to keep them in place as he smiles at you. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." You nod, stepping aside to let the man in. "I'm sorry about the mess, I was in the middle of tidying up."

Kostas nods as he glances around, trying to spot what mess you were talking about. The entire house looked as if it had been staged, not a single thing out of place.

And you have carefully thought out where to place your Christmas decorations, and Kostas noticed that. Your tree sitting in your living room in a spot that commanded attention, garlands wrapped around all of the railings and ornaments hung on all of the branches. All topped off with a pretty red and green wreath on your front door.

"Where are the babies?" You asked him, shutting the front door as he took his shoes off. "Groomers, sent them to get their holiday clean up. I can't stay long, I just wanted to drop this off." He smiles, following you to the kitchen.

Kostas sets the box on the table, handing the envelope over to you.

"For me?" You asked, taking it hesitantly. "I hope this isn't payment for the stuff I dropped off, because if it is-" "No," he shook his head with a smile, "just a thank you."

You carefully open the envelope, taking a sheet of paper out of it, and unfolding it. There's a few flowers painted across the piece of paper, it was clear that he used the puppies' paws to make the petals of the flowers. Some scrawled handwriting which you assumed belonged to Kostas was in the middle of the page; thank you miss y/n.

"Tell Maui and Fuerte I love their picture," you smiled at him, sticking the page on your fridge with a magnet.

Kostas smiles, watching you. "I'll let them know they made it onto the fridge as well." He joked, watching as you straightened the paper and stuck another magnet on there to keep it up.

You walk over to the table, standing in front of Kostas who's now made himself comfortable in your space. "What's this?"

"A thank you from me, I'm not as artistically skilled as my puppies."

You smiled, opening the box to find a chocolate cake. The brown frosting covered the majority of it, there are a few green and red decorations around the border, resembling mistletoe.

"You didn't have to do all this," you tell him, walking over to get a knife and two plates, as well as forks.

"It's the least I could do." He watches as you cut into the cake, handing a piece over to him. "I took some of the treats into work, the boys say I should've given you more than just a cake." He chuckles, taking a bite as you shut the box.

You nod towards the couch, and Kostas picks up his slice of cake following you, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence. The now empty plates sat on the coffee table as you rambled on about something your niece had told you about the bake sale.

Kostas listened intently, but his eyes wandered. Your shorts and hiked up a bit when you dropped yourself on the couch. You noticed his staring, not mentioning anything but you knew he wasn't fully listening. You pull the hem of your shorts, fixing it back to its original length. Kostas noticed and glanced up at you, his cheeks flustered and red.

"Sorry," he whispers, blushing like a school boy with a crush.

"I don't mind," you whisper.

Kostas hums, his eyes wandering over your legs yet again. He can't help but notice the colourful ink peeking out from under the hem of your shorts. "You have tattoos?"

"A tattoo," you correct him, pulling the hem of your shorts up and over your hip.

Kostas's eyes follow the design from the top of your thigh to just over your hip bone. There's a vine with a trail of flowers scattered along it; roses, lilies, daisies, wild flowers, any and everything in between. There's a lot of intricate details, the lines carefully placed to make it look cohesive and the colours of the flowers complimenting each other.

He hums in appreciation, stopping himself from reaching out to touch it. "It's beautiful." He smiles, glancing up at you. "Is it the only one you have?"

You nodded, laughing. "I was 19.. and drunk."

"You went big for your first time," his eyes meet yours and you can't help but feel that his words have a double meaning.

You shrugged, slouching back in your seat. Your leg crossed over the other and your shorts hiked up a bit more, showing off a few inches of your skin that Kostas was begging to put his hands on.

"Most people say you get addicted, but I just did the one and done."

He hums, gesturing to his arms that were covered in various designs and words. "Case in point."

"Just your arms or you've got more?"

Kostas nods, "my left leg and my ribs, and behind my neck." He lifted his shirt a bit to show you the tattoo on the left side of his ribs - an intricate portrait of what looked to be Adam and God.

Hesitantly, your fingers reached out and traced the shape of the tattoo. Kostas's eyes trailed from your face down to your hand and to your fingers, watching as you carefully outlined the ink along his skin.

"Beautiful," you mumbled and Kostas's cheeks flushed red, watching as you slowly moved your hand away.

He knew you were talking about the tattoo and yet he blushed, as if you had called him beautiful - but in a way, you did. And you meant it.

"Maybe I'll get another one, something small." You tell him and Kostas nods, offering to take you to his guy. Always the first one to offer up help and advice, he can hear Thiago's words in his head.

You look down at his leg, he was in shorts despite the cold winter air that nipped at you any time you opened the door - he had run over from his place after dropping the puppies off. You can see the lower half of his leg, the delicate shading and line work made up a stunning tattoo along his leg, the ink on his thigh peeked out from under the hem of his shorts.

"What's under there?" You nod and Kos's brows furrowed, looking at you for an explanation. "Under where?" He asks, making you giggle. It took him a second to realize why you were giggling but then he too, began to laugh.

You shook your head, "I meant your thigh, what's on your thigh?"

Kostas lets out a sound of understanding, shifting to pull the leg of his shorts up so you could see the tattoo. There's a massive portrait of a lion roaring, it didn't seem like Kostas's taste in tattoos but at the same time, it fit him to a T.

He nervously bites at his bottom lip as your hand rests on his knee, carefully slides up to his thigh. "Is this okay?" You whispered, glancing at him. Kostas nods, not sure if he remembers how to speak or even breathe - it feels as if you had taken all the air out of his body.

Your hand slips further up, leaning into the man in front of you. Kostas glances at your lips, your eyes and back to your lips. He sees your tongue wet your bottom lip, pressing them together.

Just as you were about to speak, Kostas beat you to it; "can I kiss you?"

You smile, "I thought you'd never ask."

His hand reaches for your jaw, holding it gently as if you'd break. Kostas brushes his thumb over your cheek, smiling at you sweetly before closing the gap between the two of you.

It was something out of a movie, you had never felt this way about anyone before. It just made sense; you fit against him as if you were meant to be there all along.

Kostas must have had the same thought, pulling you over and onto his lap, letting you straddle him. His hand slips down your side, resting on your hip. "You're so beautiful."

You can't help the blush on your cheek, you lean down to kiss him once again. You can feel his shorts rubbing along your inner thighs as he pulls you to him, trying to have you as close to him as possible. A hand on his shoulder, rolling your hips slightly to test the waters.

He seems to have gotten the idea; lifting his leg to give you more leverage. Your thighs are slotting either side of his, Kostas's hand rests on your hip, lazily brushing his thumb over your hip bone. He watches closely, listening to every little sound that slips past your lips.

"Kos," you mumbles, and the man perks up. "What is it, love?"

"Want you."

The words barely leave your lips and you're being flipped over, flat on your back before he pulls you by your legs, re-situating you to his liking.

Kostas is careful, pulling your shorts and panties off - they're tossed somewhere behind you. It's an issue for later. He kisses up from your calf, letting your legs rest over his shoulders. He's gentle, calculated - as if he knew exactly what to do, as if he had done it before.

Thighs on either side of his head, you weren't fully against his face but Kostas's hands grip the back of your thighs, pulling you further down. He glances up at you, a wicked smile on his face. "Is this okay?" He whispers into your skin, moving closer to exactly where you wanted him.

You nod, "please." The word comes out a bit more desperate sounding than you'd like but you could care less. You needed him - in every single way.

His hands rested on the back of your thigh, pulling you down flat against his face, his tongue pressed against your slit.

Your body juts forwards - not only from the pulling but from the feeling of his tongue on you. Reaching forward, your manicured fingers tangle in his hair.

Kos' tongue curled upwards, brushing against your clit and you tug on his hair, something incoherent meets his ears - partly because he was focused on what he was doing but also because your thighs were squishing his face.

He didn’t care.

He loved it.

A soft groan leaves his lips when you tug on his hair, trying to move him a certain way. “That- oh!” Your chest heaves, tugging on his hair to get him to do that again.

His grip on your thighs would leave marks as would the stubble scratching along the inside of your thighs. He rocked you a bit, pulling you closer as his nose brushed against your clit, his tongue moving down to lap over your cunt.

Kostas glances up, his tongue on your clit and he can’t help but admire the view above him. Your chest heaving, tits spilling out over the black lace over your chest, your head tossed back and eyes fluttering closed as his name falls from your lips like a prayer.

He lets you pull him closer, his nose brushing your clit, replacing his tongue as he moves it elsewhere, his fingers pushing into you slowly. He sits up a bit, fingers curling and pumping in you, your eyes still closed.

His free hand reaches up to hold your jaw, pulling your focus to him. “You’re perfect, did you know that?” He asks and you can barely focus enough to grasp the words he was saying, let alone give him an answer.

“Need you,” you mumble.

“What do you need?” He asks.

“Need you.” You say once more.

He hums, he knows he’s not gonna get much more of an answer from you, he just had to give you what you wanted and Kostas knew exactly what you wanted.

You whimper at the loss of his fingers but passes his fingers over your lips, letting you suck on them for a moment as he shuffles his pants down.

Both of you let out a satisfied sigh when he pushes onto you, your leg pulled up onto his hip and he leans over you. His lips brushes against yours,

Kostas's cock twitches when you clench around him, “oh fuck,” he breathes, forehead against yours. “This pussy was made just for me, hm? Take me so well, my pretty girl.”

He pushes the straps off your shoulders, tits spilling out over the top of the bra. He glances down, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and he leans down to kiss you once more, leaving a trial of marks and sloppy kisses until he reaches your tits.

There’s a faint purple mark between your tits; his new favourite spot.

“You're so pretty like this,” he says, your hips buck, wanting more from him. He can feel you clench around his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum, darling.”

“Kos.. please.” You breathe, and he gives in, he can’t help himself; you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. “Want you to fuck me full,” you whisper to him. He shuffles a bit, pulling both of your legs over his shoulders.

The change in position does it; his thrusts sloppy, signalling that he too was close. You feel Kostas cum, your legs dropping off his shoulders as you do.

He's still buried in you when he drops down onto you, landing with an oof. You let out a giggle, your hand passing through his messy hair as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

The two of you lay there for a while, basking in each other's company and the silence. It hits you; "Kos?"

"Yeah?"

"Aren't you supposed to go get the puppies?"

"Oh crap!" He's pulling himself up, hurrying to get dressed. You take that as your cue to get redressed as well. You figured you'd see him again at some point, not expecting him to grab your hand. "Do you wanna come with me?" He asks, walking with you to the front door.

"Isn't it too early to introduce me to the kids?" You joked, already grabbing your hoodie.

Kostas smiles, "they love you, and.."

"Yeah, same." You smile, the words left unsaid for another time.

---

taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

#merry smutmas xoxo #kostas tsimikas #kostas tsimikas smut #kostas tsimikas x reader #football #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football smut

208 notes · View notes

hiro--aoki · 2 months ago

Text

TWD X TUMBLR Chapter Three: Stick Together

Tw: Mentions of rascism, use of N-word slur (again 😰), mentions of drugs, catcalling, say bye bye to a character

A/n: procrastination really is my enemy atm. literally kept you guys waiting longer than i intended, my bad fam. this is a very long chapter 💪🤫🧏‍♂️🤫

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Rick picks up the gun Merle dropped, checking the ammo, “Look here, Merle. Things are different now. There is no n***** anymore. There are no dumb as shit, inbred white trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. There’s us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together not apart.”

Merle slowly turns his head to Rick and says defiantly, “Screw you, man.”

Rick takes a breath, “I can see you make a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah, well screw you twice.”

“Outa be polite to a man with a gun,” Rick brings Merle’s own gun to his head, mocking him with his own words, “Only common sense.”

The rest of the group watch the interaction, still recovering from Merle’s minute long power trip.

“You wouldn’t,” Merle challenges, “You’re a cop.”

Rick lowers his gun, “All I am anymore, is a man looking for his wife and son. Anyone who gets in the way of that is gonna lose.”

The two of them hold silent eye contact for a few seconds.

Rick breaks the silence again, and starts to check Merle’s pockets, “I’ll give you a moment to think about that.”

He pulls out a little box. He recognises it instantly from his years as an officer. Rick grabs Merle’s chin, forcing him to look up.

“Got some on your nose there,” Rick gives a flick to his nose.

“What’re you gonna do? Arrest me?” Merle mocks.

It’s only at this point he notices Rick walking over to the edge of the roof. Rick tosses the drugs over the side of the building.

“Hey! What’re you doing?! That’s my stuff! If I get loose, you better pray!” Merle says, pulling his wrist, trying escape his restraints.

Rick starts to walk to another side of the roof, Morales following.

“You hear me, you pig? You hear me?!” Merle continues to rant over his drugs like a Scooby Doo villain would after they’ve been caught.

“Yeah, your voice carries.” Artemis says, shooting a much-deserved glare at Merle.

“You filthy pig!” Merle ignores her and keeps trying to twist his way out of the handcuffs.

Rick leans against a ledge, looking over the city. The streets are still filled with the relentless walkers. Thunder rolls in the distance, louder than Merle. Morales stands next to Rick.

“You’re not Atlanta PD.” He states, “Where are you from?”

Rick thinks for a second, before answering, “Up the road aways.”

“Well Officer Friendly, from up the road aways, welcome to the big city.”

They both turn back to the shuffling, decaying nightmares as they moan and groan their way around the city. The streets are infested with them. There’s no way out. Every direction they turn there’s just as many.

On a different ledge, Andrea, Jacqui and Artemis peer over that side.

“It’s like Time’s Square down there.” Andrea states, worry for all their safety is obvious in her tone.

Morales and Rick make their way back to the rest of the group.

“How’s the signal?” Morales asks.

“Like Dixon’s brain.” T-Dog says blankly, “Weak.”

Merle just flips him off in return.

“Keep trying.” Morales orders.

“Why? There’s nothing they can do.” Andrea says, “Not a damn thing.”

“Getting them to come and help us would be telling them to come to their deaths.” Artemis adds.

“Got some people outside the city as well.” Morales explains to Rick, “There’s no refugee centre, that’s a pipe dream.”

“Then she’s right, we’re on our own. It’s up to us to find a way out.” Rick says, his stubborn nature really shining through in such a dim situation.

“Good luck with that.” Merle interrupts, “These streets ain’t safe in this part of town from what I hear.”

Merle then glances at Andrea, shamelessly checking her out, “Ain’t that right, sugar tits?”

That comment makes everyone look over at Merle with some form of disgust. Andrea even looks somewhat offended.

Merle doesn’t stop there, “Hey, honey buns, what say you get me out of these cuffs, we go off somewhere and bump some uglies? Gonna die anyway.”

“I’d rather.” Andrea states bluntly.

“Rug muncher. I figured as much.” Merle mutters.

“Streets ain’t safe. Now there’s an understatement.” Morales says, standing with Rick.

“What about under the city?” Rick suggests.

“The sewers?”

“Oh man.”

Morales turns to Glenn, “Hey Glenn, check the alley.”

The rest of the group look up at Morales and Rick. Glenn jogs over to the side of the building where he has a clear view of the alley.

“See any manhole covers?” Morales asks.

Below them, in the alley, two walkers are standing idly but no sewer entries in sight. Glenn jogs back to the group.

“No, must be all out on the street where the geeks are.” He concludes.

Jacqui speaks up, “Maybe not. Old buildings like this, built in the ‘20s. Big structure often had drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding down in the subbasements.”

“How do you know that?” Glenn questions.

“It’s my job -was-.” She clarifies, “I worked in the city zoning office.”

“I’m surprised, those office jobs do come in handy.” Artemis says.

______________

Morales, Jacqui, Rick, Glenn, Artemis, and Andrea make their way down to the subbasements of the building. They reach the opening of the tunnel. The deep, dark, and damp tunnel. The group point each of their flashlights down into it, illuminating the tunnel slightly.

“Very welcoming.” Artemis mumbles.

“This is it? Are you sure?” Morales asks the group.

“I scoped this place out the other times I was here.” Glenn says, “It’s the only thing in the building that goes down…but I’ve never gone down it.”

“Very promising too.” Artemis adds to her earlier statement.

“Who’d want to, right?” Glenn asks rhetorically.

The group glance over at Glenn, he looks back at them.

It takes him a few seconds to realise; he is the human sacrifice.

“Oh. great.” He mutters.

“We’ll be right behind you-“Andrea tries to say.

Glenn interrupts her, “No, you won’t. Not you.”

Andrea takes this to slight offence, “Why not me? Think I can’t?”

“I wasn’t-“Glenn tries to backpedal.

“Speak your mind.” Rick says firmly.

Glenn takes a minute to think about what he’s going to say.

“Look, until now, I always came by myself. In and out, grab a few things; no problem. First time I bring a group; everything goes to hell.” Glenn says, before adding, “No offense.”

There’s another moment of awkward silence between the group.

“If you want me to go down this gnarly hole, fine…but only if we do it my way.” As he continues talking, the confidence in Glenn grows a bit more, “It’s tight down there. If I run into something and I have to get out quick, I don’t want you all jammed up behind me, getting me killed.”

“I’ll take one person.” Glenn states.

Rick looks as if he’s just about to volunteer but Glenn stops him.

“Not you either. You’ve got Merle’s gun and I’ve seen you shoot.” Glenn explains, “I’d feel better if you were out in that store, watching those doors, covering our ass.”

Glenn then gestures to Andrea, “You’ve got the only other gun, so you should go with him.”

He then turns to Morales, “You be my wingman. Jacqui and Artemis stay here. Something happens, yell down to us, get us back up here in a hurry.”

“Okay.”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, everyone knows their jobs.” Rick confirms, giving Glenn a pat on his back.

Glenn and Morales start to descend into the very friendly tunnel of hope. After making sure they’re down safely, Andrea and Rick head back up to the shops.

______________

Artemis and Jacqui watch as the other two pairs go and do their assigned jobs. There’s not a long silence before Artemis speaks up.

“What do you think about that Rick guy?”

“He seems decent enough.” Jacqui admits.

“Came out of nowhere and already has your trust? Must be aa sign or something.” Artemis jokes as she leans on the railing of the tunnel.

“You trynna say he’s the ‘chosen one’ or something?” Jacqui smiles.

“Might as well be at this point.”

They both chuckle, enjoying what could be one of their last moments. That is if Rick’s plan doesn’t go accordingly.

_______A Few Minutes Later_______

Morales, Glenn, Jacqui and Artemis come back up to the shops just in time to see the first set of glass doors chatter. The walkers flood the small space that they achieved, leaving only one set of glass doors between them and their dinner.

Rick keeps his eyes on the small army of walkers, “What’d ya found down there?”

“Not a way out.” Morales answers.

“We need to find one. Soon.” Andrea states.

The group agrees, before heading back up to the roof as quick as they can.

_____________

Rick scans across the viewable parts of the not so fabulous city through a pair of binoculars.

“That construction site, those trucks; they always keep keys on hand.” He points out to the desperate group.

Rick passes the binoculars to Morales. Morales looks from the construction site to the streets practically flooded with walkers.

“You’ll make it past the walkers.” Morales mutters.

Rick turns to Glenn, “You got me out of that tank.”

“Yeah, but they were feeding. They were distracted.” Glenn argues.

_______A Few Minutes Later_______

The groans, moans and shuffling surrounds Rick, Glenn and Artemis as they slowly shuffle through the streets. The stench practically fuming off them and the walkers is nauseating. They walk terribly slow, trying to blend in with the walkers like kids on their first day of school. They slowly inch closer to the yard where they need to get to.

Glenn looks over at the walking corpses. They used to be people. They probably died scared, suffering and alone. Thunder rolls and echoes throughout the streets, interrupting his intrusive thoughts.

Rain starts to slowly and gently fall. Rick looks back at Glenn and Artemis. Glenn’s face holds a stunned expression, whereas Artemis’s holds a worried expression. Rick subtly gestures for them to move faster.

As they near the fence surrounding the construction compound, wakers start to notice that they are in fact, not walkers, and start to walk towards them.

“Shit.” Artemis whispers, as if whispering could save them now.

“Go. Run. Come on.” Rick says.

The group start to run along the asphalt. The walking corpses reach and grab at the three of them. They reach the gate and start climbing. Artemis looks between Rick and Glenn and the oncoming tsunami of walkers. They won’t make it in time.

She pulls off her bag and shoves into Glenn’s hands.

“What are you doing?!” Glenn asks in concern.

“Being a distraction.” She hisses back.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Probably.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Artemis grabs Glenn’s shoulders, “The group needs you to survive. You and Officer Friendly over there. You’re like a brother to me, and if anything happened to me, I would beat myself up so bad if your girlfriend doesn’t beat me to it.”

With that she let’s go of him and starts to move along the fence, in the opposite direction to Glenn and Rick.

“Glenn, come on!” Rick yells.

_______Meanwhile_______

“It’s late, they should’ve been back by now.” Amy says as she paces in from of the RV.

“Girl, calm down, you worry too much.” Delilah says as she makes a daisy chain for Kayden while teaching Lily how to do it.

“They’ll be okay, they’re with Glenn and Artemas.” Lily says as she copies whatever Delilah does with the small flowers.

Dale pokes his head up from working on the RV’s engine, “Worrying won’t make it better.”

Amy lets out a sigh and walks off to occupy herself, in hopes it will make the others return quicker.

“Start it over.” Shane chuckles as he tries to teach Carl how to tie a tight knot.

Carl giggles and does as he says. Kayden watches Carl with fascination. His laughter and determination capturing her in a trance, like pretty much anything Carl does. Lori watches Shane and Carl interact from the clothes like.

The CB comes on, and they hear T-Dog’s voice, “Hello, base camp? Can anybody out there hear me?”

People start to gather around the radio again.

“Base camp, this is T-Dog. Anybody hear me?”

Dale answers it, “Hello? Hello? Receptions bad on this end. Repeat.”

“We’re in some deep shit here.” T-Dog admits, sounding distressed, “We’re trapped in the department store.”

Worried murmurs come from the others and Delilah looks over to Lily with wide eyes.

“Glenn will be okay. He’s the kind of guy to refuse to die until he says, ‘I love you’ one last time.” Lily says to comfort her best friend.

“Geeks…surrounded…of em…” T-Dog’s voice cuts in and out over the line.

“T-Dog can repeat that last bit?” Dale asks.

He just gets static in reply.

“He said the department store.” Lori clarifies.

“I heard it to.” Dale says.

“Shane-“

“He cuts Lori off, “No way. We do not go after them. We don not risk the rest of the group. Ya’ll know that.”

Amy speaks up, “So we’re just gonna leave her there?”

“And Glenn?” Delilah speaks up, her friend’s earlier comfort no longer working.

“Look, Amy, Lilah, I know that this is not easy-“

“They volunteered to go!” Amy argues, “To help the rest of us.”

“I know, and they knew the risks, right?” He states, keeping calm as to not aggravate her any further, “See, if they’re trapped, they’re gone. So we just have to deal with that. There’s nothing we can do.”

“She’s my sister, you son of a bitch.” Amy says as she storms off.

“Dude, your dad is such a downer. “Lily mumbles to Delilah.

She finishes her daisy crown, fitting it nicely on Carl’s head, as Delilah puts the chain around Kayden’s neck.

_______A Few Minutes Later_______

Since the last communication, the mood around the camp has been less than cheerful. The only thing lifting spirits now is Kayden and Carl running around the camp, pretending to be fairies, are being chased by the evil witches, Lily and Delilah.

Suddenly, the loud engine of what can be assumed to be a sports car, echoes throughout the quarry. A bright red car comes into view, driving towards the camp, and stopping right next to the RV. Glenn steps out of the car and looks around the group.

He’s bombarded with people around him, asking if everyone’s okay, telling him to turn the blaring car off, asking him what happened.

Glenn pops the bonnet of the car and Shane turns off the noise. Glenn looks around the group and almost instantly spots a flabbergasted Delilah with a bright pink blush.

He jogs over to her and wraps her in a tight hug. He rests his head on her shoulder and looks like he doesn’t intend on moving for a while. Delilah gathers herself and grabs his face her hands and presses their lips together.

“Ew!” Kayden and Carl squeal, carl covering Kayden’s eyes.

“Yeah, ew!” Lily chuckles and throws grass at the pair.

They break apart and immediately shy away from each other.

“Glenn, where are the others?” Dale asks.

“Coming.” Glenn mumbles, still very much flustered.

Just as he says this, a small truck drives up the road, parking behind the sports car. The group step out. Amy practically jumps tackles Andrea. Morales is just glad to see his wife and kids are still in one piece.

“How’d you all get out of there?” Lori asks.

“Thought you guys were trapped.” Jim adds.

“We were. The new guy got us out.” Morales says.

“New guy?” Dale asks.

“Yeah, crazy vato just got into town. Hey helicopter boy, come meet everyone!” Morales calls out to the truck.

Rick steps out of the truck, taking a few steps towards the new group of faces. He stops in his tracks. Carl and Lily turn to see him. Rick starts to walk toward them, Carl starts sprinting to Rick, his flower crown flying off, Lily not far behind.

“Dad!”

Carl jumps into Rick’s arms, and Lily hugs them both. After a few seconds Lori joins the hug as well. Carl is sobbing, Lily is also sobbing silently shedding a few tears and Rick is fighting back his own tears. Lori is in shock that Rik is alive after all this time, as is Shane.

The rest of the group watch with wide eyes as the once broken family reunite.

Taglist:

@kookiekult @smutinlove @far-cry-from-finality @zomb-1-egutzz

@shadowybasementmiracle @vaniniweenie @sleep-queen

@frankcastleautism @hisdahlia @carlslvr @zzombiegirl

@lunarnightt @carlmipololo @herrera2k @txrasbae

@a-vampire-bat @coveofthesiren

#the walking dead #twd #twd x tumblr #artemis everdeen #delilah walsh #kayden walsh #lily grimes

29 notes · View notes

alexthefly · 6 months ago

Text

Did I miss the relevant prompt earlier in the week? Maybe. Shhhh...

In honour of FishTank Week, and particularly the prompt 💛"We're a team, always"💚 please enjoy this reblog.

*******

Green Wool and Sunshine

What is that?!”

“What is what?” asked Virgil through a mouthful of cinnamon roll.

“That! That…thing you’re wearing!”

Gordon sat up slowly from the sofa, his face fixed in equal parts grin and grimace as he pointed with his good hand.

Virgil looked down at himself and surreptitiously brushed a few crumbs off his sweater. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“Dude, it’s hideous,” said Gordon, eyeing the offending garment critically.

Virgil looked again. True, it wasn't in the best shape. Pale green wool, striped with white and yellow, and all of it faded and bobbled to within an inch of its life. One shoulder had a loose seam so that it looked almost as if the wool were melting. And at the centre of it all, the distinctive shape of Thunderbird Two rendered clumsily in darker green.

"Where did you get it?”

“Grandma made it for me one Christmas. You remember that vintage knitting machine Dad got her that one year?”

God, it had made a racket, like someone flicking a giant comb over and over again. Thank goodness she’d finally lost interest in that particular hobby, although in hindsight Virgil wondered if her subsequent rediscovery of her old cooking books might have been too high a price to pay.

“Anyway, I just found it the other day in the back of the closet.”

Gordon’s mouth twisted to one side. “...Any chance you could lose it back there again?”

A deep grumble. Okay, so she might not be the best at the domestic arts, but she was still their grandma and he loved that she tried. Virgil had actually thought the sweater was pretty good, in a homespun, one-sleeve-slightly-longer-than-the-other sort of way; his girl’s big, friendly turtle-face was unmistakable, and Grandma had even included a little dark-haired figure in blue and green waving out of one of her windows.

“Lay off. It’s comfortable. Anyway, I didn’t see you criticising when she made you that yellow submarine one you wore down to scraps.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “First of all, I was a lot younger then and not so refined.”

Virgil snorted.

“Secondly, yellow is infinitely better than green. And thirdly, I can carry that sort of thing off. You…” - he wafted his hand up and down at his brother in the manner of a bitchy ballroom dancing judge - “...unfortunately, cannot.”

Virgil grunted and took another bite of his roll.

“Really? Mr ‘Hawaiian Shirts and Sandals Go With Everything’ is criticising my fashion choices?”

“They totally do go with everything! They’re a completely universal outfit; the quintessential capsule wardrobe.”

He puffed out his chest to show off today’s offering, complete with large ketchup stain down the front.

“Anyway, why are you even wearing a sweater when it’s 80 degrees outside? I know you tend towards layers, tropical climate be damned, but this is a bit much even for you.”

“I was down in the hangars,” Virgil shrugged. “It was cold.”

“You doing some maintenance?” His little brother’s face lit up.

“Two’s left air intake’s doing that rattling thing again; I thought I’d give her an overhaul,” he said, brain shifting seamlessly into engineer mode, “And her injectors need a spruce up. Thought perhaps I’d have a play with that new neo-PEM cell Brains has been going on about.”

“D’you want some help?”

The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable, and cut deep.

Virgil bit his lip. “Aww, I don’t think so, Fish. You need to rest.”

“I could rest down there? I promise, I’ll just sit and watch you."

The desperation in his brother’s puppy dog eyes felt like knives in Virgil’s chest.These last few weeks since the Marindata Ventfields had been hard on them all. Even now, with Gordy finally home from the hospital, Virgil still woke almost nightly with the sound of that emergency signal echoing in his ears, the silence of his brother’s comms stretching out in his mind until…

No, don’t think about that. He’s home. He’s safe.

But obviously Gordon had been hit the hardest. His ‘bird was a total loss, his body not much better, and he still had months of rehab ahead, bringing with it all the oh-so-unwelcome memories he’d worked so hard to bury. Regular visits from Penny had helped, and their sunshine boy was trying hard, but it was like the clouds had gathered, dimming that indefinable brightness that made him…him.

Virgil wished beyond wish that he could indulge his little brother if it would make him happy. But…

“I’m sorry Squid, Grandma’s orders. There’s just too many hazards down there. Fumes and stairs and things to trip over… I wouldn’t be able to watch out for you properly.”

Gordon sagged, and Virgil felt his heart clench painfully.

“But hey, how about I leave the maintenance and come sit up here with you instead? We could watch an episode of Buddy and Ellie?”

Anything to bring back the sun.

A shake of the head, eyes fixed downwards. “Nah, seen ‘em all.” Gordon looked up and smiled again; this time it didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyway, you don’t want to be stuck up here. Not when there’s oil and grime to play about in. Better watch you don’t get that sweater dirty though, or Grandma might knit you another one.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but his little brother cut him off.

“Stop worrying Virg. S’no biggie. I’m fine, see?” He shrugged. “I’ll just see you when you’re done.”

He lay back down on the sofa carefully, looking so much smaller than he had a moment ago.

“Actually, I’m getting a little tired now. You just go do what you gotta do - I’m gonna take a nap right here.”

And with that he closed his eyes; conversation over.

Virgil lingered for a moment, scouring his brain for something to say but coming up blank. Inside his heart burned with guilt and impotence: his little brother was hurting, and he couldn’t do anything to fix it. All he’d done was make things worse.

Perhaps he should go.

“Okay then. Take it easy, alright?”

“Yup."

“There’s cinnamon rolls in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Thus dismissed, he turned and made his way towards the elevator, mind no longer on his ‘bird but instead on her grounded, miserable co-pilot.

Oh Gordy. It will get better; I promise.

………..

As the sound of the elevator faded away Gordon opened one eye a crack to check the coast was clear. Then he slowly, painfully hauled himself up, intent on getting to the residential levels. No doubt his big marshmallow of a brother would be on the comms right now, asking someone - probably Scott - to come down and check on him, and there was no way he was hanging around for that.

Even if his body hated him for moving.

The journey from the sofa to his room used to take less than two minutes. Today it took him seven minutes twenty. What was worse was that objectively he should be pleased. Sub-eight minutes was actually an improvement on a week ago.

Goddammit.

Finally, he was able to close the bedroom door behind him and collapse onto his bed, aching and miserable.

This sucked.

He was lucky to be alive; he knew that. A few weeks ago he’d been lying at the bottom of the ocean with half a volcano on top of him. Now, because of his brothers, Penny and Parker, he was back in the bosom of his family, healing, getting stronger, gradually shaving the seconds off his bedroom run.

He should be grateful. He’d been through far worse, for God’s sake.

So why?

Why wasn’t he able to shake this off?

Why was it that whenever he tried to see the positive, all he could see was just how freakin’ useless he was?

He didn’t dare say that out loud, of course. His family would absolutely kick his ass if they heard him say something like that. Penny too. (Boy, would she!) He could hear them now, telling him to give himself a chance, these things take time, blah blah blah… Hell, he even tried saying that stuff to himself sometimes, like he would if it were one of his brothers in this position instead of him.

If only any of it actually worked.

Because no matter how much he tried to reason his way out of this funk he was in, it didn’t help, because this feeling wasn’t logical. It couldn’t be reasoned with.

It whispered to him in the dark.

You’ve let them all down.

Look at the slack they’re having to pick up.

Look how much they’re worrying.

Worse.

They don’t need you back.

They’re fine without you.

Every time his brothers went off on a mission without him, it hurt. Whenever someone else took his place co-piloting for Virgil - even Penny, who was only doing it for his sake - he felt cold inside. And when Scott had been the one to take his new Thunderbird Four out for her maiden voyage? The mission to recover the Zero X capsule, no less; the thing that had kicked off Operation Bring Dad Home? Well, he’d just wanted to curl up right there on that sofa and never move again.

The unfairness.

The guilt.

The fear.

He would never wish what had happened on any of his family in a million years. But at the same time, why was it always him that got hurt?

Perhaps he really was just useless.

Sad, exhausted, hurting in more ways than he knew how to handle, he turned his face to the pillow and let the tears come.

…………

The thing about uber-strength pain meds is that they can make a guy fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and not wake up until the early hours.

He registered the dim not-quite dark as the world slowly came back to him.

Someone had drawn the covers over him at some point during the night, tucking them around him like he was a child, and didn’t that just sum up everything? Take a nap, take your meds, and maybe if you’re a good boy you’ll get a lollipop(!)

He shifted slightly and his hip complained. Gingerly he rolled over, tackling the manoeuvre in sections, trying to get comfortable. He was just settling again when something caught his eye on the chair by his bed.

A large package wrapped neatly in yellow paper.

Twisting carefully he reached out with his good arm and pulled the chair towards him. In the soft glow of pre-dawn, he recognised the paper as the same kind he’d had for his last birthday: bright yellow with blue seahorses and glittery bubbles. Scott had complained about the glitter getting all over his shirt, and they’d all spent the next hour randomly shaking the paper over each other’s heads until they’d sparkled like they were in a Las Vegas show.

He smiled at the memory and gradually pulled himself up until he was sitting, blanket wrapped around him in the cool, almost-morning air.

Holding the package on his lap, he delicately pulled it open at the seams, revealing unmistakable green wool underneath.

What the-?

In with the sweater there was a card written in Virgil’s big, swooping hand:

Seeing as you’re the only one who could pull it off anyway, you should have this, at least until you can make it back aboard the real thing.

She isn’t the same without you. V.

He read the card two more times, breath hitching on the last sentence each time, then he gently unfurled the sweater out in front of him to take a closer look at the design, now that it was technically his.

It took a few moments for him to notice it.

Something was different.

He squinted.

There, in the window of Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, carefully embroidered next to the tiny waving figure of Virgil, a second, blond-haired figure waved out at him in shades of blue and yellow wool.

How...?

...Virgil.

For a moment, he swore he could see the little co-pilot grinning. Or was that just his suddenly-blurred vision playing tricks?

He wiped his eyes and, discarding his blanket, pulled the sweater over his head. He couldn’t get his bad arm through the sleeve, so instead opted to keep it against his chest, nestled between the soft wool and his own thrumming heart.

Despite the way it looked, Virg had been right: the sweater was comfortable. So comfortable. Softened by repeated washing, with a clean smell of detergent and just a hint of Virgil’s cologne - sandalwood and bergamot, mellow and comforting - wearing it was like wearing a hug; warm and reassuring and just so snuggly.

Full of love.

Wrapping his good arm around himself and breathing in the calming, cozy scent, he picked his way carefully over to the window and opened the blinds. Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky a hundred different shades of pink and purple and orange. As he watched, the sun slowly poked its head out over the gentle waves of his beloved ocean, bathing him in the warmth of its early morning glow.

It was going to be a beautiful day.

#fishtankweek2024 #fishtank #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #alexthefly reblog #fluffy hurt/comfort #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds

47 notes · View notes

dogtrotting · 7 months ago

Text

The Watering Can Flower Market Photos (and lunch) ... with your dog

View On WordPress

#dog friendly garden centre #dog friendly niagara region #dog-friendly watering can flower market #the watering can flower market #the watering can photos #vineland #where to take the dog in niagara

0 notes

lexr86 · 2 months ago

Text

White Hot Shame

You’re being funny as you walk me to my Tube stop, visibly delighted when I laugh aloud because the shaggy dog story you’re telling is genuinely entertaining and because your affected posh-twat Harrow accent is truly appalling. Not as bad as your Weegie one though. The strapping Scottish burr does not mix well with your native Indiana accent. You can’t hit all the R’s and those you do hit still struggle in the back of your throat. I don’t care though, because you’re funny and I’m enjoying your company and have finally come to a realisation and a decision.

The realisation has been slow to announce itself. Like all my attractions, it crept up on silent feet, not making itself properly known until it was firmly established. It didn’t exist at all that first time I met you, even though you were funny then too. Even after that first D&D session, I wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of the crowd as anyone other than the cheerful joker whose name I didn’t quite catch. Kit, the perpetual arts student who had taken me out the previous week for a coffee that I was only belatedly coming to understand was some kind of an interview on behalf of the group, was beaming at me too brightly. And Greg the Dungeon Master was glaring at me too harshly. Between them I barely had the bandwidth to acknowledge all of you others. Kit embraced me in a purple furry-coated hug almost as soon as I walked through the door of the small community centre and ran through a clearly rehearsed introduction that went in one bemused ear and out the other. And Greg, it turned out, was not as glaringly grumpy towards newcomers as he first appeared. It was just the way his face fell apparently and he warmed quickly once he realised I was a much needed Ranger (level 11). That first time, you shook my hand, your palm warm and your rings pressing comfortably into the skin of mine, and you cracked a joke that I laughed at and immediately forgot as I was moved onto the next person by the purple whirlwind next to me.

It took two more weeks for us to realise that, as everyone scattered to the four corners of this little patch of North London in search of their usual ways home after our campaign session, we two were essentially heading in the same direction albeit via slightly different routes. You stumbled across me just outside the entrance to my stop while I was rooting through my bag in search of my errant Oyster card and casually mentioned that your bus stop was around the corner. And the next week and all the weeks after that, you walked my route with me so that we could joke and laugh until it was time to go our separate ways. I thought perhaps you had designs, would ask me out or make a move, and I would be forced to admit that I didn’t know you well enough to know if I wanted anything other than friendship. But instead, you let me come to this realisation on my own, let the months pass so that we could hit that perfect saddle point for me between not knowing you well enough to be attracted to you and knowing you so well that I’d accidentally friend-zoned myself. Or at least that point where I can hope that I haven’t friend-zoned myself.

And now we’re here and you’ve eventually gotten to the end of your story just as the entrance to my Tube stop comes into view. I breath deep and then let it out, along with the worry that I’m going to completely embarrass myself.

“Eddie…?”

“Mmmmm…?” Your attention is distracted by a loud but seemingly friendly disagreement in the nearby kebab shop. Your unruly curls, which were cut a bit too short to be pulled properly into a ponytail when I first met you, are now long enough to bob against your shoulders when you nod your acknowledgement of my question. I stare back towards the light of the Tube stop, glad that I don’t have to make eye contact for this.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” There is a silent pause and, fool that I am, I try to fill it. To elaborate. To explain. You know, just in case you don’t know what’s going on here. “You know, like on a date…? With me?”

Yes, I’m an idiot.

The silence does not end.

I turn my head, silently cursing what I know will come next. The slight frown of discomfort. The warm brown pools of your eyes shot through with pity. The No’s that are phrased as not-quite-No’s. “I really like you but not, you know, that way… I think it’s better for both of us if we stay friends… You’re like a sister to me…” I’ve heard a quite the selection of them over the years. For the record, I’ve heard other responses too. A couple of exclamations of surprise that have morphed not-so-slowly into Yes’s. One delighted “You betcha!” that never got beyond the third date but was a wonderful affirmation regardless. My slowness to attraction, both sexual and romantic, is not the worst of impediments. Until now, it seems.

Your response is none of the expected soft let-downs. Your shoulders are tense, your usually relaxed and expressive hands balled into fists under the dangling sleeves of your dark-dyed denim jacket. You look, quite frankly, horrified. Like I have done something to purposefully hurt you. Like I have betrayed you.

This is a response I have never anticipated, not from you nor any of my other slow-burn crushes. It hurts. I feel my own muscles tighten, my heart rate tick up, fight or flight or fawn… My mouth opens to retract it, to pull it back into myself, and I’m already making plans for finding a new D&D group because this is not going to be okay between us, not with this response, and they were your group first so I should be the one to leave.

But before I the words can get past my lips, before my stuttering brain can even lay out what I might say that could make this better, you spit out a terse “No,” and your long legs, that are usually so good at slowing down to let my shorter ones keep up, stretch out to their fullest. In less time than I have to understand what is happening, you are around the corner and gone, and I am standing alone outside my Tube stop gaping after you like a very confused fool.

It takes three days for you to text me, days which I spend contemplating how I will explain to Greg that I can’t make the coming week’s session, that I am ill or moving to a new city yet again or just plain done with D&D all of a sudden. When one of my workmates comes down with the flu, I secretly hope I’ve caught it because then I wouldn’t have to lie. In the end, your message appears before any flu-like symptoms do.

- Sorry.

I stare at the thin pale block of text in WhatsApp for a moment, aware that you know that I’ve seen your apology, that the little ticks have betrayed me, and my options are limited as a result. It would be churlish not to respond to such a short and clear message. On the other hand, I feel that this is not the opening to a single-line reply and then I’m done. I tap out an answer and resolve to wait for the next notification.

- Thanks.

- I get it – I ambushed you. I’d like to be friends if we still can though?

As soon as I hit send on the second message, the app shows you are “typing...” And typing. And typing. Apparently you have a lot to say. Fuck. There is a long wait, long enough that the screen on my phone goes to sleep and I hit the button on the half-full kettle to boil some water for a cup of tea. In the end, your reply isn’t the essay I was expecting.

- This might be easier to explain in person. Can we meet for a chat?

I have no real idea how to respond to that with anything but a single word. I hit the button on the kettle again to stop it boiling and sigh, mentally kicking myself for being such a doormat.

- Sure.

Your answer is a Google Map pin pointing to a pub that is a 20 minute bus journey from my flat.

- Is here good for you?

I react to the question with a thumbs-up and wander towards the hallway to grab my boots, thankful that I’ve at least had a shower and changed out of my pyjamas on this overcast and depressing Sunday afternoon.

Somehow you’re waiting at the main bar for me when I arrive, even though the bus schedule and traffic were in my favour, so you must have had a head start. There’s a three-quarters full pint of something pale and hazy in front of you and I’d be tickled that we have similar tastes in beer if I didn’t have such a sour taste in my mouth. You gesture to your glass and ask what I want. I end up ordering a half pint of whatever pilsner they have that isn’t Heineken and sip while you hand over cash. Then you gesture towards the back of the pub, looking grave and serious and so unlike the Eddie I know, and I’m pretty sure I’m getting dumped as a friend. You lead me through the maze that is this place until you find a quiet nook with a table just large enough for the two of us and no-one in earshot.

Yep, definitely getting dumped.

I hide my hurt sigh behind my glass of beer and sip again and wait for you to start.

“Shit.” You rub your hand over your face, digging the pad of your thumb into the inner corner of your eye, and suddenly you look your age. It’s amazing what a dimpled grin and carefree manner do for you otherwise. Now, here in this darkened corner, you look all of your years and I surmise that some of them have been less than easy ones. Your hand lands palm down on the worn wooden table beside your pint. “I have a health condition…”

Oh. Shit.

“I’m sorry,” and I am. I don’t entirely mean to but my hand ends up hovering over yours, fingertips twitching imperceptibly, and when you look down I find myself asking, “May I…?”

Touch you?

Hold your hand?

Comfort you?

I’ve no idea how I’m going to finish that sentence but you nod and save me from having to come up with something that would have no doubt sounded clingy after my failed attempt to ask you out.

When my palm touches the back of yours, you raise your hand slightly and I find my fingers slipping into the gap between your thumb and first finger. I give your hand a little squeeze. “I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

The look you give me is caught between rueful and amused, and you clarify quickly. “Christ, I’m not dying. I’m just… I have this condition but my health is perfectly fine, except that…” You pause and blow out a deep sigh, one that starts low in your chest, and I see your cheeks pink up and suddenly you’re staring resolutely over my shoulder into the dark corridor behind me, refusing to meet my eye, and your hand is limp in mine. Your voice drops lower but I hear you clearly when you state clinically, “One of the side effects is that I suffer from premature ejaculation.”

Oh!

I’m still processing your words and the emotional seesaw you’ve intently put me on when you continue. “It’s not something fixable. I can’t train myself out of it. So you see why I turned you down, and… sorry, I should have done it better than I did, but you see why I’m a pretty bad prospect for a date when I can’t last longer than a minute most times.” Your voice cracks on the last word and you grimace, your face a humiliated red flush. Your hand disappears from mine and hides with the other one behind your pint. “A pretty terrible prospect for a boyfriend if that’s what you were looking for.”

I look up sharply at that, kicked out of my slow processing of your admission, and I want to snap at you not to say that about yourself but I manage to swallow down my frustrated tone because I don’t think it will do anything except drive you further away from me. I think you’ve probably had your fair share of frustration and pity, and then some. So instead, I ask the one thing that springs to mind, being careful to pitch my tone as soft and non-judgemental. “Does it feel pleasurable when you come?” It sounds equally clinical but ‘enjoy’ won’t work in this context, not with the obvious shame you feel.

Your eyebrows disappear into your bangs for a second and I can tell I’ve thrown you, but then the frown is back, deeper now, the corners of your mouth pulled down and crap… I think I can see the beginning of tears at the corners of your eyes. I want to reassure you that I’m not making fun of you, but instead I plough ahead recklessly even as I keep my voice kid-glove light. “Thinking beyond any embarrassment, is it pleasurable…? Please, Eddie, I want to know.”

Your voice cracks again when you answer. “Well, yeah. But…” You trail off, unable to finish your objections or maybe you think you don’t have to because they’re so evident.

“So you enjoy the physical pleasure of coming. And you enjoy physical intimacy with a… a partner who’s understanding?” That last part is important because I suspect you may not have had as many understanding partners as you should have. Rage bubbles up in my stomach but I keep my thoughts on the matter to myself as you nod. “And if it was the other way around, if it was a woman in your bed who was coming within a minute of you touching her, would you have any objections?”

“That’s different!” You object and it’s so fast I doubt you’ve even had time to think through the idea before it’s out of your mouth.

I tilt my head and stare at you for a beat. Credit to you, you hold my gaze. “Is it? Aside from all the patriarchal cultural bullshit, if you enjoy what your body does and I want to share that with you, would it be so bad for us to enjoy it together?” You sigh and silently refuse to answer so I try a different tack. “I can’t, as I once saw charmingly expressed in a novel, ‘be dicked to orgasm’.” You can’t help yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up a smidge at this. I shrug, unbothered. “Oral doesn’t work for me. Fingers or a vibrator are the only ways I’m getting there.” I stare pointedly at your hands, still hiding behind your drink. “They still work whether or not you’ve come, yeah?”

Your jaw works as you look away again, eyes staring into the empty dimness of the pub. I resist blowing a breath out in frustration. Clearly logic isn’t going to win the day here so I throw in my last chip, hoping it’s enough to keep me in the game.

“I like you and if you’re willing, I’d like to get naked with you and explore how we can make each other feel good. No pressure, but I’m just saying, that’s what I’d like with you, Eddie.” That and dinner and drinks and more laughter and terrible accents from you.

Your gaze snap back to me, eyes wide and pupils blown, and I hold my breath, waiting for you to tell me “No” once more.

It takes a week for us to get to the naked exploration stage because I insist on both of us getting tested. It struck me in the pub after you huffed out a wary “Yes” that you might feel less pressured if you didn’t have to anticipate the extra sensations of rolling on a condom, and in any case I want to get a bit messy with you. I’m a sucker for a fun exchange of body fluids.

When you arrive at my flat, I think maybe we’ll have a drink first and chat. I’ve even planned ahead and picked up a selection of beverages, including some decent zero-percentage beers in case alcohol might pose a problem. But before I can play the good hostess, you pull the folded-up printout of your STI test results out of a pocket and silently hand it to me.

Raring to go, I think, but your posture is still that of a cornered animal and I realise you maybe just want to get this over with. Fail out quickly and go home wondering why you even bothered trying. The thought fills me with a sort of empty sadness which I hide by quickly scanning the list of results. All clear. My own slip of paper declaring full sexual health is hiding under a gas bill on my small kitchen table. Once you’ve had a chance to eyeball it and nod your acceptance, I lead you down the short hall to my bedroom.

I want to ask you to undress me but I’m worried about making too many demands on you too soon so I start to undress and hope you follow. When I drag my t-shirt over my head to reveal one of the nicer bras I own, soft barely-there fabric and little lace embellishments that emphasise my nipples, you stare and make absolutely no effort to take off any of your own clothes.

Yep, my breasts are simply that arresting a sight.

“You remember about the whole ‘both of us getting naked’ part of this, yeah?” I joke feebly, hoping maybe for an admission that you’re so awestruck with me that you’d genuinely forgotten. Instead, you nod curtly and dip your head to stare at your feet while you go to work stiffly. A black band t-shirt lands on the floor next to mine a second later. Your body is gorgeous, all soft muscle and dark ink. I want to taste the pale pink of your nipples, run my fingers over the trail of hair running south from your bellybutton. I want to find the spots that tickle and make you laugh unselfconsciously before I drag a pleasured groan out of you with my tongue. I want to have my way with you and leave you panting and delirious. Instead, I get back to the task at hand.

My bra is next to go, landing half on top of your t-shirt while you unbuckle your belt. I’m still eyeing you up and notice that your hands still while your button fly is mostly undone because your gaze has fallen on the soft lavender fabric of one cup. Your eyes flicker up, hands still held tense on that last button of your fly. Behind your hands, I can see black boxers – love, love, love a man in black underwear regardless of the cut! – and a pronounced bulge. I drag my eyes up to yours and you are transfixed, staring at my breasts like you haven’t ever seen a naked pair before. Or haven’t seen a pair in far too long. This was the awestruck reaction I was looking for. I stop moving and just stand for a long moment, watching you watching me, both of us topless, you in jeans that are ready to be pushed down your hips and me with the fingers of my left hand about to tug at the tie on the side of my wrap skirt. I focus on breathing, in and out and in again, solely to give you the sight of my breasts rising and falling gently.

After several breaths, I undo the tie on my skirt and wiggle it and my knickers down my legs – just as nice and lavender as my bra but wasted because I don’t even give you the opportunity to see them. I am as naked as I’m going to get, and you quickly follow suit.

Oh god, you have a dark red dragon tattoo on one hip, and I think I’m going to die. It’s straight out of D&D and I want to taste it as much as your nipples. Next to it, your dick stands delicious and proud. I don’t want to make you more self-conscious than I suspect you already are so I give it no more than a passing glance, just enough to know that I want to do terrible, wonderful things to it. To you. I want to make you grunt low in your throat, gorgeous and pleading for me, to make you whimper with overflowing pleasure. Some fucked up part of me wants to make you beg.

Instead, I climb as gracefully as possible onto my bed and half-ask, half-order you to “Come here.”

You do, and I lay out and pull you down beside me, and gently, oh so fucking gently, because I’m convinced that you need gentle right now, I press my lips to yours. It takes a long moment for you to respond but when you do, it’s lovely. There’s no other word I can think to describe it. Your lips are soft and warm and you kiss with just the right pressure. A tiny bit slow for my tastes but we’re apparently both accommodating personalities in bed and naturally adjust to find a speed somewhere in the middle. My fingertips press softly to your jaw for a while as we explore each others’ lips and then move into your hair, down the column of your neck, over the solid curve of your shoulders. I go no lower than that, enjoying this slow, naked make-out session and not wanting to push my luck right now. Your hands stroke over my waist and back, warming my skin and not venturing further afield. In this moment, you seem comfortable and I am happy for you. I have had other partners who were similarly tentative and I have taken their hands in mine to draw them to my breasts or between my legs but I don’t do that with you. You’ll get there in your own time, I think.

When I prod your lips gently with the tip of my tongue, you open for me and our kisses rachet up a level. Christ, you taste good. Clean and minty with that healthy human taste underneath. I could do this for hours. But we don’t get the chance to do this for hours because, at the feel of your tongue stroking mine, I move my hips without thinking. Only an inch or two but enough to bring my thigh into contact with your groin. Nothing more than a brush of skin on skin, gentle and fleeting, and I barely have time to think ‘Your dick is scalding’ as it twitches against my thigh before you freeze up completely and the grunt you make against my lips is not one of pleasure but of fear.

I stay exactly where I am, my body as frozen as yours, while I pull my face back an inch. The red flush is back on your cheeks and your mouth is a tense line, so much embarrassment and shame mixed in with the healthy glow of kiss-swollen lips and natural arousal. “You okay?” I whisper.

Your nod is strained, all your muscles locked into panic mode.

“Would you like to…” I fumble for the right words, “grind against me?” I’m still whispering, and the groan you let out as you press your jaw into the bedclothes is louder than my question. For a moment, you look like you’re trying to escape from me by burrowing your head into the bed but then you tilt your face back towards me again and nod shamefacedly.

I shuffle forward, and your legs part to let my thigh slide between them and then you’re rubbing your gorgeous, shuddering dick against my skin. You’re tilting me partway onto my back, burying your face not in the bed but in my neck, huffing and rubbing your nose and mouth over the sensitive skin there. Scenting me, I realise. Smelling me. Your hands pass stutteringly over my hips, my ass, down the back of the thigh that isn’t pinned between yours, getting dangerously close to the ticklish back of my knee with a palm that is now sweaty with nerves. This feels so frantic, so heaped with desperation. It feels so fucking good. This is you letting go and trusting me, and I know it would be horrible for me to laugh right now or squirm away regardless of the reason, but your hand is getting really close to the point where I will. Thankfully it reverses course and slides back up to cup the swell of my buttock before you can inadvertently set off a giggling fit by touching the wrong stretch of skin.

Thank God!

Your hips are still grinding, not even really thrusting, just pressing and trapping your dick between your body and mine, giving it just enough friction to… “Unnngh…!” Your hands tighten almost to the point of pain, squeezing my pelvis, digging into the fat of my ass, holding me still as you start to spill hot come across my hip and upper thigh.

And I lose my fucking mind.

“I’m sorry, sorry… Shit, I’m so sorry…” It’s like penance from your lips, whimpered hoarsely into the crook of my neck, even as you continue to rut – Christ, what a gorgeous word, rut! – and spurt on me. It is one of the sexiest things a guy has ever done with me, and I can’t help it, I moan and it’s a deep, wanton sound.

Your body gives one last shudder and you stop moving altogether, shoulders and spine locked with tension, your face damp and hot where it’s pressed against my skin. We are both sticky and you are so obviously mortified that I should feel bad for you, not because you came but because you feel so bad about it. Instead, my body has its own agenda and in that moment of quiet I feel a rush of my own juices tickle my pussy lips. I am so wet for you, it’s a bit ridiculous. So turned on, I should feel as embarrassed as you do.

“I thought I could hold on. Really, I…” Your words disappear into a frustrated groan, and I realise I have to do something right now to reassure you or you’ll disappear on me.

I stare at the ceiling above your shoulder as I pet your hair, combing the tips of my fingers through your long curls, easing them over the curve of your ear, the base of your skull, feeling the heat of your dark emotions through your skin. I don’t know how I am going to manage to say these words but somehow, because you need something to take you out of your shame, I do.

“I have this fantasy…” No response from you. Fine, yeah, everyone has fantasies, no big revelation there. I swallow thickly around a mouth that is suddenly filled with too much saliva. “In this fantasy, I’m with a man, someone I care for and who cares for me, someone like you.” Your shoulder shifts beneath my palm. Do I have your attention? I hope I do. “We’re teasing each other, kissing and touching, and then, then…” Jesus Christ, has my face always been this hot? I feel like I’m burning up. “This man, this gorgeous, beautiful man is coming uncontrollably on me. Coating my skin with his spunk. Totally unable to stop.” I don’t use the phrase ‘inhuman quantities of spunk’ because there are some physically impossible aspects of my fantasy that don’t need to be spoken aloud and I don’t want you to feel more pressure than you already do. “Just my mere presence, just the touch of my skin on his makes him lose control. It’s so hot, so… nnngh,” the sound out of my mouth is animalistic, “I don’t even know how to describe it, Eddie, but if I touch myself while I think about this man…” While I think about you. “…I come so goddamn hard!” You jolt in my arms.

I’m not naturally a talker during sex although I have been trying recently to get better about putting my desires into words. Right now though, it feels like the floodgates have opened and I may never be able to shut up again. “You just gave me my fantasy, Eddie, and it was beautiful.”

You raise your shoulders and tilt your head up to catch my eye. Your mouth is still a grimace, though softer now. There is still a line deep between your eyebrows, though whether it’s embarrassment or judgement or downright disgust, I can’t tell. I force myself to match your gaze, even as I stew red-faced and twitchy in a feedback cycle of horniness and shame. In the end, you’re the one to break the stalemate, pushing yourself up on your elbows and peering down between our bodies. I follow your lead to find that we are both smeared with the pearly whiteness of your come. You are growing soft against my upper thigh, relaxing there even as the rest of your body is tense, warm now rather than scalding hot.

“You’re objectifying me.” Your voice is low and gruff. I blink back shameful tears and nod, then manage to hiss out an apology so soft I can barely hear my own words. Your hand leaves rumpled bedclothes beside my head and your thumb and forefinger catch my jaw to tilt my head and force my eyes back to yours. You stare at me gravely for a long moment. “I’m not bothered by it.” There’s a tiny twitch at the corner of your lips and I realise you’re relieved and amused by my admission, maybe even a little turned on by it, even if it’s too soon for your body to start to respond again. You shrug. “You’re not the only one with fantasies, Ranger girl.” You push yourself up and off of me, rolling away to sit on the side of my bed, hands on your knees and head bent to look down at yourself, while I lie unmoving and wondering whether, despite your words, I’ve just blown things completely.

Before I can reach for you or apologise again, you’re on your feet, disappearing into the ensuite bathroom, and I hear the sound of running water. Fuck. You’re cleaning yourself up and in a moment you’ll come out for your clothes and then you’ll leave and I’ll… I’ll… what will I do?

I’m still lying on my back in the middle of the bed, one hand raised to press my fingers to the bridge of my nose in an attempt to hold off the headache that is threatening me, when I feel the warm stroke of a damp washcloth over my belly. My hand falls to the side and my eyes snap open to find you dragging the cloth down over my hip to caress my thigh. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you sigh the words out like it’s a particularly tiresome chore. “And then we’ll see just how hard I can make you come with my hands, mmmkay?” The dimple in your cheek pulses as you try to hold the smirk on your lips at bay. One moment it’s there, deep and teasing, the next it’s gone as you regain some control and strive to look serious. In the end you fail, and I spread my legs wordlessly as you ease the cooling cloth over a second pass of my thigh. As you approach my hip, your hand veers towards the soft skin my inner thigh as if you’ve missed a spot there and you brush the back of your knuckles against the damp curls at the apex of my thighs.

Oh yes!

My hips buck instinctively, hands clutching at the sheets when you rock your hand back and forth, pressing your knuckles against my pussy. You glide easily with the movement because, even swimming in embarrassment moments before, I’m still soaked. My juices coat your skin and you mumble a surprised, “Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

You disappear for a moment, and I hear the slap of the washcloth landing in the bathroom sink. Then you are back and kissing my lower belly, peppering featherlight kisses to the stretch between my bellybutton and mons. Your hand returns to its place between my legs but now it’s turned around, fingertips rather than knuckles nudging gently against my clit and trailing over my pussy lips, smearing my own juices in a swirl of liquid bliss over my skin. I groan at the sensation, spreading my legs wider to give you all the access you could ever need to get me off.

“Dirty girl… Making me blow my load all over you like a horny teenage really did it for you, huh? Teasing me and telling me I could grind a little on you like you were doing me a service, when all the time you were using me to get yourself all… worked… up.” You pump a finger into me, once, twice and then withdraw to flick it wetly over my clit. Holy shit, I’m going to combust! Whatever I though about myself talking sexy, I’ve clearly misjudged you. You are a master at this. A fucking god.

“How do you like it?” The question is kissed into my hip and then there is a little scramble as you reposition yourself, dragging yourself back up the length of my body to curl your free arm around my shoulders and press your face back into my neck. The hand you have buried between my legs doesn’t move at all though, except to keep petting and stroking. “Hmmm… tell me, dirty girl. Need to take my revenge and make you come ‘til you can’t see straight.”

We’re back to frantic but now I’m the one who’s frantic. I can barely get the words out. “Please, I need… my clit, I need you to stroke it in circles… gentle… Oh, ye-esss, just like that!” You follow my instructions perfectly. “Could you, I could…? I like to come around something. I have a dildo!”

Christ, I did not just shout that last bit, did I?

You growl in my ear, dismissing my dildo suggestion. “Not a chance! What do you think my fingers are for?” You flex your hand, fingers on my clit suddenly sliding down to dance around my entrance and I’m wondering if you’re ever going to push inside when you drag them back up to my clit and coat it in the slickness you have gathered. You kiss and suck and scent my neck, setting the nerves there alight while you pump your fingers into me, testing and teasing. The stretch is delicious and then the deliciousness of it all ramps up as something circles my clit. Your thumb, I think, and it’s the last coherent thought I have for a while because there’s a little flick to the circular motion you’re making and it’s… it’s… oh God, it’s so good that I come all over your hand within seconds.

Like a wave of perfect warm water, it sloshes around between my hips and flows through my stomach and thighs, causing the most wonderfully achy little cramps in my muscles. And when I clamp down on your fingers, because I have to, I can’t help it, my body’s going to do it regardless of what my mind might want, you feel so solid inside me that I’m sobbing with happiness. And thanks. Apparently, it’s really important to my orgasm-addled brain to thank you right now so I babble out several iterations of it until you’re shushing me gently, your lips pressed to my ear and then my jaw and then then my mouth.

“Thank you, thank you, oh good sweet… mmmmm… thank y–mmphf!”

I spend a while coming back to myself, just wallowing in the bliss and mess of it all, while you pull your fingers out from between my legs and inspect them. Then you stroke them wetly over my belly and my breasts, tweaking my nipples between your thumb and forefinger. Your mouth follows the path of slick that you’ve painted on me, lapping up my taste and wetness, until you reach my lower belly again and then you part my lips and place a single prissy little kiss on my clit. The sensation makes me giggle which, to be fair, is my usual response to oral. I wasn’t lying about it not working for me if I want to climax. It’s too hard to come when I feel like I’m being tickled into a laughing fit.

Fortunately, you’ve taken on board what I said in the pub about the limited options available to eke an orgasm out of my body, and soon you’re aligning your long torso to mine and shuffling your hips and then, with a resigned sigh, you hitch and press them to my belly.

Oh, you’re hard again!

I’m trying to formulate a request, an invitation, something, anything that will allow me to feel you coming against me again when you beat me to the punch. “I’d like to come inside you…” Your words fray a little at the edges. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, I’m not going to last much longer even on the second round, but –”

“Yes!” I rudely cut you off. “Please. Yes, please. I’d love that.” It’s my turn to pepper your skin with kisses, little soft pouts of my lips against your collarbone and chest. My mouth dances over one tattoo that I’m too close to see the detail of and I murmur, “Can you touch me first, before we…” I trail off, not wanting to load you with the pressure of the word ‘fuck’. “Just until I tell you to stop? Just my clit, please?”

You don’t make me explain myself which I’m thankful for, and when your wet fingers find my swollen bud of hypersensitive nerves again, I respond with puppy-like eagerness. My hips rock to the rhythm of my pulse, pressing myself into your hand for greater friction. It doesn’t take long for your touch to get me where I need to be and I find myself grasping your wrist and pulling your hand away before the “Stop” sobs itself out of my mouth. “Now… please,” I beg, and you oblige, lifting yourself away from my side and hovering over me, settling your hips between my eagerly spread legs.

We’re both shaking as you grip yourself and a little whimper escapes your lips. I reach down between us and spread myself for you in the hopes that that will make it easier. I’m drenched and ready in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been before and my body offers no resistance when you push in, the drag of your swollen dick like a balm against my inner walls. I’m not sure whose mouth lets fly the punched-out “Fuuuu-ngh!” that echoes around my quiet flat when you are finally fully sheathed inside me and I don’t care. I’m pretty sure we share the sentiment.

You’re so tense now, so tight in your spine and shoulders, that shaking doesn’t properly describe what your nerves are forcing out of you. Vibrating is more accurate. “Gimme a min–ohhh, Christ!” Despite your words, you don’t take a minute. Instead you grind yourself hard against me, trapping my hand and forcing the heel of my palm against my clit.

“Oh, oh, ohhh…!” I can’t help it, I’m too strung out on the path to this particular orgasm and without warning, I come around you with no regard for how it might affect you. Oops!

There’s a rushing in my ears so anything you might say or shout or babble is lost to me but I feel you thrust once and then grind a second time like you’re trying to get as deep inside me as you can. A solitary, barely-functioning part of my brain that isn’t totally overwhelmed by the bath it’s taking in a soup of happy hormones thinks you might be coming. I really hope you are. The thought of your dick pulsing and attempting to twitch inside me while my clenching muscles hold it so tight that it can’t move, even while you’re emptying your balls into me, while your lovely dick is soaking in our combined fluids… I inadvertently press my hand down harder on my thrumming clit and a tiny, little bonus orgasm licks its way along my nerves like a kitten made of electrical current and candy floss. Any remaining working parts of my brain lock up and all I’m aware of is bliss and the whimpering wordless pleas hissing through my teeth.

When I’m again in a fit state to take in my surroundings, I find that you are my most immediate surrounding. You’ve wrapped your arms around my back and rolled me onto my side with you, my chest to yours, my head tucked under your chin. I feel slick and vaguely out of touch with the overworked nerves between my legs. Experimentally, I flex my Kegel muscles and when you hiss I realise you are still inside me.

“Sorry!”

You huff and I think it sounds pained. “That’s my line, remember?”

I pull back to glare at you, tired of you putting yourself down like this, tired of you not appreciating that we have been having really fucking good sex regardless of your hang-ups! What greets my eyes is not what I expect. You look exhausted… but in a good way. Tired and relaxed like you could sleep soundly here in my arms. Unlike the other night in the pub, it doesn’t showcase your age, instead it seems to have stripped away some of those harder years.

“I came inside of a minute and I didn’t care. You felt so good and you were coming too, and…” You suddenly look worried. “You did come, didn’t you?”

I snort without entirely meaning to and the jerk it imparts to my body causes you to slip from me. We both utter little moans at the sensation, and when I recover I am quick to reassure you. “Eddie, I came twice. My brain engaged in some kind of operating system-level reboot!”

I’m rewarded with a grin and that dimple again. “Good, I’m glad you got something from it.”

“Something!” I scoff, feeling bolder about teasing you now that we’ve both confirmed that we enjoyed ourselves.

“I’m just… Thank you. I haven’t enjoyed being with someone like this in a long time.” You kiss me on the mouth. You kiss sweetly. Almost platonically, I’d say, if we weren’t lying here naked in each others’ arms, coated in come and the hazy after effects of several orgasms.

A suspicion niggles at my gut.

“You know I want to do this again, right?!” The look on your face confirms that you do not in fact know that. “For Christ’s sakes, listen to me, man!” I huff. “I enjoyed you. I am enjoying you. And yes, I probably have some shit to work out in my head about not objectifying my partners and I’ll go to therapy for it if you want me to. But regardless of that, I want to enjoy you again, have sex with you again, make you come again and hear that gut-punch of a noise that you make when you do!” Your eyebrows are climbing towards your sweaty bangs as you take in my exclamations. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the next part. “Assuming you want all or any of that too?”

You look at me, eyes full of surprise and a little wariness. “Please,” I whisper. “I really like you, Eddie.”

That, apparently, is what sells you on the idea.

“Yeah, I’d like that too.” The smile that spreads across your handsome face is easy. Like I didn’t have to just put so much effort into convincing you that you might enjoy yourself with me. Like I didn’t just bare my soul to you. “I like you too by the way… just in case that wasn’t entirely obvious. Even though I’m clearly a total fucking idiot for turning you down the first time.” You blush. Oh my God, a grown man is blushing over telling me he likes me! I swear my knees would buckle if I wasn’t already lying down. “I’d also like… maybe a shower? With you?”

I nod. We are quite the mess. Sweaty and sticky. The insides of my thighs are smeared, and something warm and wet is starting to drip out of me. It’s not an unpleasant sensation but if the bedclothes aren’t already ruined, they soon will be. Good thing I planned to do a load of laundry tonight and have a freshly covered duvet and sheets ready in the closet for a quick change. But first… “A shower sounds perfect. Or we could have a bath if you want?”

Your eyes widen at my suggestion. “How is it I somehow missed that you have a tub in your bathroom?”

I grin, shaking my head in amusement. It’s a big bathtub too, perfect for two people if you don’t mind snuggling close together. Skin-on-skin contact is a must. “You must have been a little distracted, sweetheart.”

“Mmm… that must have been it,” you murmur against my forehead as you pull me back in for a warm hug. Also the tub is in the main bathroom, not in the tiny ensuite, which explains why you didn’t see it.

“Since we’re talking about things we want… I kinda also want to order pizza after our bath. And maybe pop a film on, something we can snuggle up together to watch?” I fuss with the smattering of hair on your breastbone, realising belatedly that I never got to taste your nipples. Sounds like a great activity for the bath, I think to myself.

“Dinner and a movie? That sounds like a date,” you tease.

“Is that a yes?” I push, cursing myself as I do so.

“Yes!”

I want to ask you if it really is a Yes. If you really mean it. If you have this glowly, squeezing heat in the pit of your stomach like I do, because sex is never really just sex for me and I’m aware that I’m in a little bit deeper here than I really should be at this stage of things. I don’t do any of those things though. Instead, I grab your hand and pull you off the bed and across the hallway to the bathroom and its big bath and start running one for both of us.

#fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #writing #ao3 #smut #archive of our own #eddie munson x oc #shame #frustration #older eddie munson #sweet/hot

17 notes · View notes

junglefurytrash · 1 month ago

Text

Hi again DW Tumblr, I finished that other OC, and now I can share it with absolutely no guilt because Rox has been sentenced to the shadow realm! :D

So with that, here's my previous post to Stardust, and heeeere is..

"Toon R-008 - Vinessa the Retro DJ"

Type: Toon Role: Backup Distractor & Fast Extractor " Perky and ready to roll, Vinessa's always coming up with new ideas for songs and music! Sometimes a track doesn't always come out the way she'd hope, but that's okay; Vin knows that if you fail at something, you can always get up and try again! " - Information Card/Poster

🌈🌼" I'm more of a classical flower myself.. " 🌼🌈 - Dandy, upon purchasing her Toon License in-game

Twisted Vinessa - "Don't Let Starving Artists Suffer"

Type: Twisted Rarity: Rare " A desire to please and make others happy with their music has turned into a dangerously desperate desire to find her 'audience' again and gain their approval. Vin's sensor will rotate clockwise around the floor, seeking out Toons - Don't trigger it unless you want the DJ to come running! " - Twisted Research

Vinessa's Stats & Trinket:

Twisted Research Trinket: Red & Blue Headphones " These headphones fit your head - and others' - just fine! Decreases the Detection Range of Twisteds on the floor (and also gives them their own cool headphones!). "

Vinessa's Active Ability Icons:

Vinessa's Handler Design, Richter Middleton:

Coming in fast and not furious but instead mostly happy, meet Vinessa the Retro DJ, a Toon made to be a quick-paced Extractor to get floors done ASAP and get the hell outta there, but who is also able to be an additional Distractor just fine if the floor becomes too packed with Twisteds for your resident Goob or Pebble to manage all at once, sporting a 4 Star Extraction Speed and a 4 Star Stamina to make things happen and happen speedily!

Additionally for those hectic floors, especially if you get the Beeg Scary Dog that is T.Pebble, Vinessa's ability is an audio trap! Able to be popped down on any flat surface like the floor or a table, Vinessa can set down the trap and leave it there for as long as she feels necessary (which would most likely be as long as it takes for her and any others to get AWAY from the audio trap), and activate it when the time is right - When activated, the trap will play music, luring all Twisteds not being distracted to the trap and keeping them occupied at the audio trap for a period of time, at which point when it's finished it will go onto cooldown. Vinessa CAN move the audio trap to a new spot, but only if it's not been activated yet - Additionally, allies will be able to tell where the audio trap has been placed thanks to the ability icon showing up in the trap's location in their view. This can give your Distractor(s) some breathing room in cases where there's too many Twisteds to manage and they need stamina/healing, or if there's a Blackout and they don't know where the Twisteds are (as the trap will bring them all to one spot), or just if T.Pebbles is being the resident pain in the backside and your Distractor doesn't want to spend the next several minutes attempting to distract the angry doggo.

Vinessa (otherwise known as Vinny or Vin) is a friendly and extroverted Toon, but she's also a b it of a people-pleaser, to say the least, eager to gain approval of her superiors and of her friends; If she does well, people will listen to her music, and they'll like her music! If she does well, they'll want to hear more, and they get to keep making more! If she does well, she can show up in another episode IN-PERSON, and show up to the other floors of the Centre in-person too! Even if.. She's just gonna be there to make and play music for the others again.. But. Hey! That's what she was made for!..

They were normally down on the Music Production floors of Gardenview Centre, in her booth, creating the music she was ordered to make that would then go through her Handler and other quality control before being played on the speakers of the Centre, the Radios, the show's soundtrack, put onto cassettes and CDs, etc. When everything kicked off and the Centre shut, she was down there working on music, and it took her a long time before she found out what was going on. She stays down there, floor barricaded and protected as best they can, trying to reach out through whatever means she knows to contact Richter, Arthur, Delilah, anybody, to know she's alive and to come find them, all the while still making music.

Richter Middleton was a young music student who was VERY fresh out of school, but very talented in their works, getting hired by Arthur to produce music for the Dandy's World cartoon. When the Centre was opened and the workload massively increased, Delilah thought it would benefit to have a Toon assisting them, and with Arthur's design in hand she brought Vinessa to life and made Richter a Toon Handler, he and Vinny working together on music and bringing life to both the Show and the Centre; They'd most commonly be seen (when not in Music Production) on Vee's specialised themed floor. Richter isn't sure what happened to Vinessa when the Centre shut down; Even if it's been some time, they miss them and worry about their safety..

#dandy's world #dandy's world oc #vinessa the retro dj #I hope a vinyl disc DJ toon is unique and interesting for an OC?#tumblr please don't devour my post I'd like to see it on the tags and actually on my page

7 notes · View notes

hwaightme · 2 years ago

Text

Family for Hire (Ch.3)

(family for hire ml) -> blurb and general tags in series ml

☀️ pairing: single dad!seonghwa x business woman!reader ☀️ genre: romance, family, domestic, fake marriage, slice of life ☀️ ch. summary: who knew that meeting a toddler could be so testing, a parking lot to an activity centre was the equivalent of a gladiator ring, and that sometimes it all could lead to awakening fears you did not know you had? ☀️ ch. wordcount: 4.4k ☀️ ch. warnings/tags: language, kind of edited kind of not, kid asking scary questions, Seonghwa being a dad, exploitation, deception, Nari having thoughts, brutal kid honesty, judgement, hints at not so happy family background, fear, anxiety, Seonghwa being very soft and patient and domestic ☀️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 ☀️ series taglist: @yunnierights @moniesmoon @jackinmyarea @hwalysm @sankatchu @hijeongguk @likexaxdaydream @treasure-hwa @paralumanniluna @naiify ☀️ a/n: Hello there! As I am in major Hwa brainrot, this chapter is a two-parter (aka there will be a 3.5), so stay tuned, big hugs and much love, and all comments, likes and reblogs loved :)

Chapter 3: Pocket Edition CEO

It was impossible to predict that National Geographic documentaries would be what informed you on how best to approach and act around a toddler. Heart nearly skipping out of your chest as you stared back at the little girl with pigtails, you imagined this being a scene of some face off in the animal kingdom. Or as a duel in the style of a Western. Either way, there needed to be a dramatic rolling tumbleweed, and Seonghwa would probably not want to ruin his pristine clothes by imitating the dead plant on some concrete.

You were fully expected to be punched or cussed out, as the honest little buggers can do. You could settle for being called ‘a stinky – insert whatever character they remembered off a screen’. But today the bar for being one of the wildest days of your life was not going to be lowered, and after scrutinising you to the point where you were convinced that she could see your organs, Nari switched her attention to her father, turned her body to the side, and began to crab walk in his direction. While still peering at you with suspicion and moving to hug the precious toy in her grasp.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your so-called business partner stealing glances at you, which in turn made you roll your shoulders back, and settle into a friendly smile. But apparently, it was not satisfactory, as Seonghwa leaned towards you and whispered, lips barely moving.

“The car…”

“What, the car?”

“I left the gift in the car, so you can give it to her.”

“Oh, smart.”

The little girl was determined, continuing her journey sideways, nearly tripping three times, with Seonghwa’s hands automatically lifting as if he was about to bolt from place and go for a rugby style dive. And how were you supposed to stand? Was there a guide that you should have read about how to greet toddlers? It was not as simple as crouching down and letting them sniff your hand before petting their head, like you would do for a stranger's dog or cat. Besides, house pets liked you, so you did not need to put in extra effort for one to end up in your lap by the end of an evening. Here, there had to be some artistry involved. A complex system which no crash course would help with, but you were still cursing yourself for not preparing for the possibility of meeting Nari. Maybe a good start would be to look less like a mobster and get your hands out of your trouser pockets and instead act relaxed and ready for anything.

While you were fixated on the tiny form manoeuvring across the concrete play area in front of the activity centre, you took no notice of the other parents who began to pull up into the parking lot or simply amble in. Seonghwa, however, having practiced the skill of fatherly multitasking, was feeding his own ego by stealing sly glances at the ogling and gawking mothers, who probably had never in a million years expected him to pull up to 'gossip central' in a swanky new ride with someone who gave off the aura of an impressive postcode and a highly competitive job. He knew it was wrong to exploit your perceived status, which he, having had exposure to the field, wholly comprehended was an elaborate front to elevate your worth for employers, but since it happened somewhat accidentally, he saw no harm.

Settling for a couple of polite bows, the other parents did not dare approach him, clearly too perplexed and taken aback by your sudden appearance. Comically, what he could sense was fear on your end, had translated into a stoic and 'untouchable' demeanour, which only added to your overall image. Though for meeting his daughter this had to change, and fast. This was not an intern to take your frustrations out on and practice line manager rage; not that you would do that, but he war familiar with how expressive you could get.

"Hey... Y/N, inhale, exhale, no one is going to attack you."

"Sh- sure. You're right. Sorry." It only hit you just now that you would have to censor yourself if you were to get anywhere in the conversation realm with the toddler. You bit back another frustrated swear-down, rolled your shoulders back, and pretended like you were about to meet a highly influential CEO - not too terribly far from the truth.

And said high profile figure appeared to be fond of hiding behind her father’s leg, clinging onto the beige material, glancing at you like she was a koala on a tree, and you were a potential threat, here to cut down some eucalyptus. Seonghwa’s patience impressed you, as he pried the girl away from him, and with a kind smile patted her head and started whispering a quick introduction to who you were, what the car was here for, and reassuring her that you were safe. Her only response was that of suspicion as she let go of her father’s trouser leg and grabbed a somehow even larger fistful.

The scene must look odd for any onlookers – a showdown between the generations, an unlikely match of wariness and, what could be, personality. Here was to you thinking that Nari would be as sweet as this reformed Seonghwa who you had been trying to not let get to you all morning. A lady pushing a pram strolled past, and quickened her pace as soon as your glances met. What was it with child-related locations giving you the heebie-jeebies at any opportunity? You would not be able to answer whether the ‘showy’ motherly energy and outfit of that woman gave you a fright or not, but the agonising fire in your legs, begging for you to sprint in any direction as long as it took you far away from here, was very real. But you did not raise yourself to be a weakling, so with one final mental push, you gave your best in greeting the one and only Park Nari.

"Hi! “Um, yeah, so…” you began awkwardly, rocking on your feet once, twice as the girl was burning holes in your face with her glistening eyes which you swore showed the same constellations of stars as Seonghwa’s, “...as your dad had said, my name is L/N Y/N, and I am... an old friend." You let out a sharp exhale and looked to your newly faked husband for approval – with the negotiations, also known as Nari’s opinion, still in progress and formulating, every move could be critical and end up being catastrophic. Seonghwa seemed neutral for the time being – good enough in your books.

"Hello and nice to meet you, I am Park Nari. You don't look old." Nari answered, finally stepping away from Seonghwa, lowering her hands with the Chewbacca she had been holding almost touching the ground.

"Why thank-"

"You look tired."

Note to self: avoid getting roasted by toddlers at all costs, for they show no mercy and are honest to the point where their comments will feel like a punch in the gut. Your eyes widened as you took the impact quietly - your usual techniques were illegal to use against this opponent. Seonghwa had gone pale, hissing at his daughter that such behaviour was entirely inappropriate and that she should apologise immediately, but received his share of the fire, even though it was a sincere attempt on Nari's end to explain her logic:

"... like dad! You and dad look tired." She grinned, her already puffed-up cheeks ending up looking particularly 'squishable'. Not that you were ready to even shake hands with the kid, but you had eyes, and could make observations. Seonghwa looked up from his daughter, lips pursed, and gazed at you. You caught him mouthing a 'sorry' but waved him off and opened the car door closest to you, thanking the lucky stars and Seonghwa for positioning the gift bag conveniently right within reach from where you were. Time for child friendly bribery.

“Well, it is because I really wanted to pick something out for you, that you might enjoy.”

Nari’s expression transitioned to that of what looked to be understanding of something beyond your own comprehension. She was thinking deeply, and a child with thoughts was something you considered to be highly dangerous. You inched towards her, and crouched down to pass the bag, wondering for how long you could keep up the invested, calm and collected act. In the meantime, Seonghwa was perplexed by how your confidence from before had evaporated – in front of his very own flesh and blood, his precious little angel, his princess? If Seonghwa were to be frank, Nari was acting like a tiny menace, and he was failing to hold her back without risking her stealing the show with a tantrum or a walk out. But it was easy enough to understand her. You were a lot more than a stranger to him, while to Nari you were just that. Making an appearance in her life for the first time.

“Thank you…” Nari mumbled, giving you a bow, in the same style that her dad had taught her. He nodded to himself after having witnessed his baby acting moderately under control.

She even showed interest in the gift, taking it out of the bag and headbanging her gratitude when he took it from her and let her inspect the box in peace, and show it off to the plushie. That attitude did not last long, however, for as soon as everyone was settled in the car, with Seonghwa acting as Nari’s child safety seat in the back and you driving, she decided to start acting the real questions that were at the forefront of her mind.

"Are you trying to get into daddy's pants?"

Nearly choking on your spit and swerving, you gripped the steering wheel as if it was a rope that could help you get to safety. As you were thinking of something remotely appropriate for an answer, she continued, only this time addressing her father, who was burning up from embarrassment, a pained smile on his face.

“Dad, is Miss L/N trying to get in-”

“Nari, I love you, but this kind of question is not okay.” You were stunned by Seonghwa’s change in tone. Gone was the diffident guy you had greeted in the café. Enter stage left and move to the centre an authoritative, dependable father. You recognised notes of ‘university Seonghwa’ in his measured-out assertiveness, and, once more, fell into a stinging realisation that you really did not know the man of the present, most of your tactics and approaches relying on guesswork. It had been successful so far, but there was a limit to everything. You needed to focus and learn.

“Why?” the little girl asked, while you bit your tongue to not tell the driver who had just cut in front of you who you thought they were.

“It is a very personal one and makes the person you ask upset.”

“What does per... son… al… mean?” she asked, stumbling over the longer word.

“Remember how I explained the word ‘private’ to you? When I use it in this way, personal means the question is about something private and only related to the person you ask. And when something is private, would you want to say it out loud, hm, Nari?” you checked the rear-view mirror, and caught a glimpse of Seonghwa, head lowered, black wavy locks falling over his eyes as he spoke to his daughter with the attention of someone for whom nothing else existed. It was almost cute – the ‘almost’ coming from you being appalled that you just considered the possibility of a toddler being part of something you deemed adorable. You shook your head and blinked forcefully.

“No…”

“That’s right. So?”

“SORRY MISS L/N!” Nari screamed at the top of her voice, startling you. For the first time in your life being inside of the car did not feel safe to you and you contemplated accelerating above the official limit to cut some seconds. But seeing Seonghwa’s worried expression as he cradled Nari and kissed the top of her head made you want to be a law-abiding citizen once more. Not much fight and rebellion in you after all.

In true toddler fashion, the little girl got distracted, and for the next few minutes was preoccupied with your gift to her, babbling away with only the occasional interjection by Seonghwa to support her in her musings, ask a question or polish her already good pronunciation with some tiny adjustments. You remained quiet, letting your reflexes take over as you steered and looked out for road signs. While you had enough experience in going for aimless drives around the city to the level that you probably could be a taxi driver, Seonghwa’s neighbourhood was something of a mysterious, magical land to you.

As you weaved through the narrower streets which you had chosen to follow instead of being stuck in traffic, constantly checking the side-view mirrors to make sure they would not graze the brick walls that hid gardens from public view, Nari became interested in your motivations once again, and with one out of pocket query sent you through a giant loop. It was spectacular that you could even continue the journey.

"Are you a gold digger?"

You realised that you had never been interviewed with such intensity before, and with ease deemed the traditional approach almost enjoyable now. At least corporate did not look for you to bare your soul, only, depending on the employer, donate it in instalments.

"Nari, that is not appropriate and -"

"But dad didn't gramma say you have a heart of gold?"

From the windshield mirror you observed Seonghwa's expression instantly soften as he held his daughter tight while you were performing a particularly sharp turn, narrowly avoiding potted plants that someone had decided to leave out on the roadside.

"Thank you, Nari, but-"

"Gramma said it, not me..." Nari stated as a matter of factly, cracking you up while you merged into busier traffic. The cold hard logic spoke to you on a spiritual level and began to show you the little girl in a slightly different, more familiar light.

"But you delivered the nice message to me."

"That gold diggers want to get you?" She shot back at lightning speed, turning her head to peer at what was to be a new residential neighbourhood, though with the modern style of the buildings under construction, it could pass off as a bohemian business centre.

"That according to grandma, I have a heart of gold."

"Oooooh okay! Miss L/N are you a gold-"

"I can tell you; she definitely is not. And what did we talk about?" Seonghwa considered both your lifestyles, and found the term to be the furthest away from the truth – opportunist, maybe, but you would rather go through hell than be financially reliant on someone else. A long while ago, you had explained to him that from the day you had gotten your first pay check, you had set it to be your goal to save and move out permanently, so that you could be in control of your fate and reclaim what you had lost. Judging by your efforts, he had always thought that what you had missed out on was time itself, but that was only a crude hypothesis.

"Per-son-al? Okay… But Eunbi from school said that about her second mom, and I did not like her, she is mean." You wished you could make turns like Nari swerved around conversations. And who knew that the real drama happened in kindergarten? You chose to forget about the accidentally rude judgement and instead listened into the conversation.

"What makes you say that, and when did you meet her?" you nodded, agreeing with the questioning tactic.

"She came to school late and did not greet us and stuff, and I don't like her." Simple straightforward. Vibe check failed. You were starting to like Nari’s no nonsense approach to evaluating people, though your opinion would probably change in an instant if by horror, you were to end up on the wrong list – this toddler had too much power over your life at that moment, and it was a nightmare.

"Why is that?"

"She did not want to play at all, and was rude to Teacher Hwang and did not hug Eunbi goodbye and-”

“Okay… so what you are telling me, is that how she behaved was out of line, yes?”

“YES, dad, yes! She is a bully. But Eunbi said she is a gold digger so…”

“Do you know what the term means?”

“Is it a meanie?”

“No, it means someone who wants to be friends with someone else for their money.”

“For money? Why?”

“So that they can buy things, worry less about work… basically so they can change the way they live.”

“You should be a gold digger.”

“Are you saying we should change the way we live?” you realised, you would have snapped at right about that point, if not earlier. It was astonishing how Seonghwa was still continuing this conversation and honoured each phrase with full consideration.

“No. You should worry less about work. It makes me sad when dad worries.”

“Aw, Nari, I’m sorry, I don’t want to make you sad. But being with someone else only for money is not something I want to do.”

A sudden guilt floated into your soul, and you felt your chest tighten. What if you were a gold digger in some roundabout way? You were planning on using Seonghwa and his daughter as money bait, after all. Your goal was status, power and financial benefits – what was there that did not spell materialism and succumbing to vices of the earthly realm? Oh, how simple you were – you would not be shocked if Nari could see right through you.

“Then what do you want?” you did not wish to hear the answer, but had to listen.

“Hm… to be with someone for companionship and love.” You swore you saw Seonghwa glance upwards and towards you out of the corner of your eye, but you did not let it show. It could be your personal delusions acting out and giving you more things to be terribly anxious over.

“I love you, dad.” It seemed Nari was not interested in Seonghwa’s per-son-al life, and interpreted his answer as a declaration of paternal affection, which was much easier for your poor heart to take.

“Love you too, my cute princess.”

“Like Princess Leia?”

“Sure, like Princess Leia.”

“Yay…” the exclamation faded into the car’s rumbling as Nari snuggled into her dad’s blazer, practically digging herself under it and scrambling to become a tiny ball. In the few minutes left of the journey, you let yourself enjoy the bliss.

Apparently, Seonghwa ‘looked at you differently’ (a comment which flustered the man to the point where he dropped his keys while unlocking the front door) and ‘you were polite’, so in Nari’s eyes, that deemed you worthy of an invitation into her humble abode, much to Seonghwa’s amusement and hidden giddiness and your utter confusion. Considering the fact that you had been fully prepared for the girl to throw hands at you in the first seconds of meeting, the transition into her diligently explaining every single toy she had, imaginary worlds and being the biggest hypegirl for her father’s crafts while you sat cross-legged beside her, nodding enthusiastically, was surreal.

Unsure of how to approach toddler-level conversation, you took to asking her to elaborate on her decision-making and her strategies when it came to storytelling and crafting her own universes. This turned out to be a hit, as Nari would immediately launch into the largest diversions, passionately describing a chaotic crossover between some anime she had seen, a certain intergalactic franchise and what you gathered was some Pixar movie. While you were struggling to keep up, Nari’s passion was addictive, and motivated you to keep on listening. Soon enough, you were feeding back with your own ideas and innovating, which led to the girl taking a large sheet of paper, crayons and plopping down by the coffee table, beckoning you to take a seat with her so you could draw the ‘cool space monster things together’.

You were grateful that Nari was having fun, since for you, this felt like a never-ending assessment where you were afraid to even breathe wrong. But it could be the case that this approach had allowed you to tap into familiar territory and unlock some of your workplace characteristics instead of the awkward scared mess that you would otherwise act like. Initially, Seonghwa was hovering around you two, observing the interactions and always being ready to step in, for which you were incredibly grateful. But as minutes turned to hours, and Nari was completely immersed in play and your blazer was long hanging on a chair to not get doodled on, he disappeared into the kitchen to fix up an early dinner.

“What colour do you think Pow-pow’s fur should be?” you asked, using all your strength to remain serious.

“Orange.”

“Orange?”

“Yes. Mm. Orange.”

“Cool.” You reached for the appropriate crayon and began to colour in said monster’s fur. According to Nari, this one liked to eat sweet things and was really neat – you pretended to not know where inspiration for those preferences came from.

“Y/N?” about an hour ago Nari took to addressing you by your first name, initially approaching the matter with heart-melting shyness that made you accept this change in a split second.

“Yeah? What’s up, Nari?”

“Do you like dad?” the deafening clatter of pots and plates from the kitchen suggested you had an audience, causing a light blush to rise on your cheeks. The problem with kids was no matter what you said, they would not give up until you either said the truth, or tired them out with your verbal writhing, and you most certainly did not have the energy for the latter.

“Uh… yes. Sure, I do! He is very nice, so I do like him.” each word weighing heavy on your tongue, you let them fall to the floor, along with your composure. Nari could not mean much more than what a standard kid perceived liking to be, right?

On the same sites where you had read about the theory of development you had seen a separate discussion of natural egocentrism, narcissistic behaviours and 'me' tendencies that toddlers manifested as they grew up and started to gain tid-bits of independence. So, Nari hopefully meant mere mutual tolerance and your shared ability to play with her. Short-lived ponderings, much like all others that you had been having during your interactions with this magnificent, bright mind in a tiny body.

“He is very nice… You are very nice too. I like your drawings. I like that you like him, too.” the purposeful scrubbing noise that sounded like Seonghwa attacking dishes in the sink ceased, and a metaphorical spotlight was turned on you. You had been unable to come up with a better word to use to describe the man, but it appeared to be a spectacular selection for his daughter.

“You are very kind, Nari. Thank you for… you know. Playing with me?” you stated, though your choice of words made you cringe. For someone well-versed in the art of double speak and slithering out of the grasp of uncomfortable questions during profit and loss review meetings, you were a disaster when discussing banal feelings, turning to rumination for false support.

But the smile that Nari gave you, stellar and trusting, eliminated most, if not all concern from your heart. You held back a gasp as you noticed Seonghwa's daughter getting shy, squeezing her shoulders in and letting out a quiet giggle, whispering a soft "you're really really really nice...". You did not notice Seonghwa had stepped out, and was leaning against the frame of the sliding glass door with his arms crossed. He was still wearing a bright, polka dot apron, though even that was clean aside from one tiny splatter, and held a serene demeanour. The scene that had unfolded before him, with you and Nari huddled together and living in your own world was better than any artistic masterpiece. Nothing would ever be able to deliver the same level of impact as the acceptance that you two offered one another. All this time, Seonghwa had been afraid of judgement, and that was the biggest reason why he had started venturing out to reconnect with people from the past only now. To an extent, his behaviour could be labelled as selfish - he was not in the right state of mind nor life conditions, and as such he removed himself from multiple social circles and concentrated his efforts on going through a necessary metamorphosis. And now, to see you specifically, interacting with the centre of his universe - his daughter, and much to his and likely your surprise, finding common ground, was leaving him misty-eyed.

“Please make him less worried.” Nari's request was simple, but so hard to achieve.

Your heart sank as you pondered what you had just proposed to Seonghwa that morning. You had been honest, laid down all your cards, but skipped out on the terms and conditions. Fixated on the benefits, which were not even guaranteed, you did not see risk in Seonghwa's quick agreement. So, all there was left was to accept the possibility of ending up being the bad guy, and all that came with the journey to your grand finale.

“I… I’ll try my best.”

Fortunately for you, Nari was not the type to pinkie promise or ask a million times if someone really meant what they said. She was beautifully oblivious to the spectrum of evil out there. You refrained from expressing how you perceived yourself then: as the girl's first proper evil. One she did not even know about, and using her still limited vocabulary, ended up deeming 'nice'. Were you vile? The question plagued you, and yet you still got up and followed Nari's lead to the table when Seonghwa had announced that food was ready. There were too many variables. Too many unknowns. But only one charming gentleman pushing the chair out for you. One sincere expression of gratitude for being with a little girl and giving her so much joy. And what looked to be one happy family, sat at a dinner table, chatting about everything and nothing as minutes steeped in comfort, safety and true homeliness flew by. So, this was what such a life was supposed to feel like.

165 notes · View notes