#man getting hit in groin by football | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ssahotchhner · 3 years

Text

reckless endangerment

the reader can't let go of the trauma of aaron being kidnapped and tortured six months ago.

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: kidnapping, torture, smut, dom!hotch

masterlist

questions, comments, concerns

It was stupid to jump on the helicopter that contained at least two terrorists as it took off that roof in Manhattan. Even stupider that you had done it alone, Aaron’s voice screaming for you from behind. You weren’t sure he would forgive you for this if you survived so you supposed it was a good thing you weren’t planning on surviving.

Why did you jump on the helicopter, you may ask, and that would be a reasonable question. Perhaps it was your hero complex finally getting the better of you, knowing the helicopter was planning on flying straight into the Empire State Building, loaded with explosives. Or perhaps it was because these terrorists were part of a group that had tortured Aaron for hours a few months ago when he was on assignment in Pakistan and you had always believed fully in revenge. Aaron did not, he was much better than you.

“Hold your fire!” Aaron had yelled when it was clear you weren’t getting off that helicopter, “Federal agent on board!”

“With all due respect, sir, but you said that helicopter was headed for the Empire State Building where there are thousands of tourists and--”

“I said hold your fire.” Aaron snarls at the leader of the SWAT team. He knows he’s being ridiculous, letting emotion cloud his judgement, but how can he let them blow up a helicopter that you’re on? And why the fuck had you jumped on it in the first place?

The SWAT agent glared at him, “That helicopter gets within a hundred yards of the building, I’m ordering my men to shoot it down.” And then he walked away.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, the rest of the team not far behind him, “What the hell did she do that for?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He responded. He was furious with you, so much so he couldn’t think straight.

JJ steps closer, the panic evident on her face, “She’s not responding on radio.”

He looks at the rest of the team, all of them one step away from absolutely losing their minds over the fact that one of their own had gone on a suicide mission without consulting any of them, and then he looks back to the helicopter that’s getting smaller and smaller by the second.

***

SIX MONTHS AGO

You take a sip from your glass, “I miss you.” You say to your computer screen.

On that screen, SSA Aaron Hotchner smiles back at you, “I know. I’ll be home before you know it.”

“When you get back,” You say slowly, “Can we… Can we tell them? About us?”

By them, he knew you meant the team. He gets quiet, the smile falling off his face, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Hotch, they’re like our family. I feel terrible keeping things from them. It was fun in the beginning, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

He swallows, but then nods, “Okay.”

“Really?”

He smiles, “Yeah, of course. I don’t like hiding you either.”

You’re about to tell him you love him when there are suddenly men in the tent, “Aaron?” He looks around and scrambles for his gun, but he’s too late. One of the men hits him in the side of the head with a blunt object and he’s out, “Aaron!” You yell and then the feed cuts out.

***

It was surprisingly easy to disarm them, you supposed because you had surprised them. You easily knocked the gun away from the one who wasn’t piloting, ducked some of his punches before kicking him square in the chest, causing him to fall down. He hit his head on a hard metal handle on the way down, knocking himself unconscious. The Empire State Building was looming closer and closer and you knew if you didn’t stop it, SWAT would shoot down the helicopter. It would lead to less deaths than crashing directly into the building would, but people would still die from fallen debris. You wouldn’t let that happen. You pointed your gun at the man in the cockpit.

***

“Garcia, is her body cam on?”

“No, sir, but I can turn it on.”

Seconds later, the team was viewing the inside of the helicopter. You had knocked one of the men unconscious and handcuffed him to a handle, but you still had to get control of the helicopter.

“Can you hack the helicopter, Garcia?”

He hears the frantic typing of the technical analyst, but she huffs on the other end, “Not under these time constraints no, by the time I get in it’ll be too late.”

“Agent Hotchner, the snipers have locked in on the target.”

“Just give her another minute.”

“We don’t have another minute.”

He sighs, “She’s about to take control of the cockpit.”

“Does she know how to fly a chopper?”

“She’ll figure it out. Stand down, I won’t say it again.” Hotch’s radio goes silent after that.

***

You waste no time getting the team together and forty minutes later you’re sitting in the conference room, styrofoam cup of coffee warming your hands.

“You were video calling Hotch? At 10 PM?” Reid asks. From anyone else, it would sound accusatory, but you knew he was just genuinely curious.

“10 PM here is 7AM for him. I caught him right before he started his day, wanted to ask him about a case.”

Spencer frowns, “What case?”

Your mouth falls open as you try to fumble for something, but it’s already too late. “I knew it.” Rossi says quietly.

You grind your teeth together, “I’m sorry, is dissecting my love life more important to you guys than finding Hotch after he’s been kidnapped by a terrorist group?” You stand, squashing the empty styrofoam cup in your hand and toss it in the waste bin as you walk out of the room.

Moments later, Spencer’s standing next to you and you immediately feel guilty, “I didn’t mean to pry,” He says, “Honestly, the two of you being romantically involved was the last thing I would have guessed.”

The corners of your lips turn up just slightly, “I didn’t mean to snap in there, I know you meant nothing by it, I just… Right before he was taken we talked about telling you all. Together. Once he got back.” You sniff, “Part of me feels like all of you figuring it out without him here is the universe saying he’s going to die out there. I know that’s silly, but…”

“It’s not silly at all. When you’ve witnessed something traumatic, like a loved one being taken away in front of you with no way for you to help, your brain looks for anything to rationalize it. Even the universe predicting the outcome.”

Spencer's voice throwing out facts was actually fairly soothing, “Thank you, Dr. Reid.”

“Come on.” He squeezes your shoulder, “Let’s bring Hotch home.”

***

“Slowly put your hands up and back away from the controls,” You say, flexing your fingers on the gun, “Now!” You say when he doesn’t move. You’re running out of time. Finally, he slowly raises his hands, but at the last second turns and lunges for you. The helicopter tips as you fall over, your gun misfires at the ceiling before tumbling out of the chopper, and you’re free falling until your face slams on the floor and your hands grab the outside edge of the helicopter so hard you��re sure you ripped out your fingernails. Dangling, you grunt as you scramble to hook your feet on something. The pilot, already assuming you’re dead, had gone back to the cockpit.

Finally, you haul yourself back inside and run to him, ripping him out of his seat. He’s bigger than you, though, and quickly overpowers you. His hands wrap around your throat as you’re pinned to the floor and you’re choking, suffocating. All you can think is at least you’ll die before the chopper goes up in flames. And then, in a last ditch effort that’s more involuntary reaction than conscious choice, you’re able to knee him in the groin. His hands immediately leave your throat and instead of taking the moment to catch your breath, you kick him off you and he rolls to the open door. You reach for him, but you’re too late, he falls.

You wanted revenge, but you didn’t want to kill anyone. But you had no time to think about that now. You cough a few times and then stumble over to the cockpit. For the first time since you jumped on the helicopter, you turn your radio back on.

“I don’t suppose one of you knows how to fly a chopper?”

***

When you reenter the conference room everyone’s watching the last few seconds of the video call. They look at you apologetically and you nod in acknowledgement. You have to close your eyes at the sound of your own screams.

“Who was he working to take down while he was there?” Morgan asked.

“The leader of the Kashmir Jehad Force, his name was Syed Khan.” You said.

JJ frowned, “He told you all of this? Wasn’t it classified?”

You nodded, “Hotch asked to bring me on a few weeks ago when they were stuck. I was debriefed, but then they had a break before I could get on the plane. They finished the operation a few days ago, Hotch was supposed to come home in the next couple of days.”

“So Khan is dead?” Rossi asked.

You nod, “No one was supposed to know it was the US Government who did it. They wanted it to look like an accident. They shouldn’t have known Hotch was there.”

“Are you thinking there’s a double agent?” Emily asked.

You shrug, “It’s either that or Hotch was sloppy. Which one would you bet on?” The room is silent. “Exactly.” You say quietly.

***

They don’t have time to be relieved about the fact that you single handedly re-hijacked the chopper because now you need to figure out how to safely land it and you’re a football field length away from the Empire State Building. Reid jumps into action, apparently having read a lot about helicopters when he was younger.

“I’m assuming he had it on autopilot, the button will be glowing green on your left, turn it off and then get ready to steer.”

You sigh, “Spencer, I am so happy to hear your voice.” You flip off the switch like he said and the helicopter immediately starts beeping at you and plummets. You try and remain calm and pull it up and then turn the helicopter in the opposite direction from the building and sigh. “You know how to land this thing, right Reid?”

“Yeah, I’ll walk you through it.”

Hotch has to walk away from the conversation because he’s so caught up in feeling relieved that you’re alive and absolutely furious with you for doing what you did. He thinks he knows why you did it. You had been absolutely torn up when he had been taken while in Pakistan and you had been on edge this whole case knowing the terrorists you were after had been a part of the group that had tortured him.

***

When Hotch wakes up, he’s chained to the ceiling by his wrists, shirtless. He can feel a migraine blooming from his temple where he was hit, but he knows the real pain hasn’t even begun yet. He can hear talking from the corner of the room and before they can see that he’s awake, he begins detaching himself. He pictures your face, smiling at him on your first date. The way you smile sleepily at him when he kisses you first thing in the morning. The way you scrunch up your forehead just a little when you’re thinking really hard. The first time you told him you loved him. And then he’s with you and no one can touch him, no one can hurt him.

***

“Do you know where they would keep him?” Strauss is sitting in the conference room now, looking at you, “You were debriefed, is it enough for a profile?”

You sighed deeply, eyes darting back and forth as you tried to recall all the information you know, “I know most of the profile for Kahn, but we never focused on the group as a whole because we wanted to find him alone when we neutralized him.” You tap your fingers on the table, “I have no idea what a group without Kahn would function like, even knowing what I knew before, the fact that Kahn is gone would change the whole profile. We don’t know who took over.”

“And what do you know about the group?”

“Um,” You blinked a few times, you were having a hard time focusing, “They were all followers, none of them would have been capable of leading. Whoever is in control now was outside of the group.”

“Maybe our double agent?” Emily says.

You nod, “That would make sense.”

Strauss frowns, “You think there’s a double agent?”

“There’s no way the group would have known Hotch was responsible if they didn’t have insider information.” You say.

“What you’re proposing is that a terrorist somehow infiltrated a Top Secret US Operation, waited for us to kill a terrorist leader, then took over that same terrorist group and kidnapped the leader of our operation.” Strauss said and waited for someone to say something, “Does that not sound ridiculous to anyone else?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” You ask sharply.

“Yes, that Agent Hotchner left something behind at the scene that pointed the remaining group in his direction.”

You’re shaking your head, “If you’re so certain that’s the case, then check their old stronghold. If it’s a new guy, they would have abandoned it, which I’m certain they did. But be my guest, waste our time and your men.” You storm out of the conference room for a second time.

***

You find yourself in Aaron’s office and you tilt your head to the side, stretching out a kink in your neck before sitting on the couch. You look around the office, well decorated with plaques commemorating his work in the bureau. When you get up and walk around to his side of the desk, you notice a small gold frame that hadn’t been there before. In it is a small picture of the both of you sitting on the beach at sunset. When had he put this here? When had he decided that it was worth the risk of your coworkers noticing that new frame? Seeing you propped on his desk like that?

And then you were crying and you couldn’t stop it and you just wanted to hold him. “Looks like you just outed your relationship to Erin.” You looked up to see Rossi standing in the doorway and wiped your tears, sniffling.

“Not like she can say anything considering you both make it a habit of checking in at the same hotel every weekend.” You snap, and then sigh instantly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” He says and walks over to put a hand on your shoulder, “You miss him.”

“A few hours ago we were talking about what we were going to do when he gets back, and now he’s gone.”

“He’s coming back, Y/N. We’ll find him.”

***

You had been right about the former stronghold being abandoned. All signs now pointed to a double agent. You tried to think of everything Aaron had told you about the team that would be a part of the operation, but you kept coming up empty. When a list was brought out with pictures of each you went over it again, every conversation you had had with Aaron since he left.

And then… there was one interaction, one interruption that you and Aaron had both dismissed at the time.

A man walks up behind Aaron while he’s talking to you, debriefing you back when they thought you’d be flying in. At the look on your face, Hotch had turned around to face him, “Can I help you with something?”

The man had simply shook his head and left, but you could have sworn for the rest of the call, he had lingered. Listening. Aaron had explained to you that most of those involved in the operation hadn’t known the full details of the plan up until they had left, in order to prevent situations like the one they were in now.

There were times when Aaron was talking to you on the phone and he told you he felt like someone had been watching him, but you both dismissed it as paranoia. And when the pictures and names were presented to you again, you pointed to the man you were sure you saw on that one video call. “What do we know about him?” You asked.

And the look of dread on Erin’s face when you pointed him out told you everything you needed to know. Garcia did what she always did and soon they knew every detail of his life. He was a textbook narcissist and sociopath. Incredibly charming, everyone loved him, he could convince almost anyone to follow him. He had an FBI background and rumor had it, he thought he was to be the one to lead this operation until Aaron showed up.

“So he takes over an entire terrorist organization just to take out Hotch?” Morgan asks, “We have to be missing something.”

You’re getting impatient, “Well let’s figure it out on the jet.”

“This team is not going to Pakistan.” Erin says firmly, “We will inform an extraction team that’s already on the ground when we figure out where they’re holding him.” You’re already rolling your eyes and preparing a retort and she notes that and continues, “If you can’t compartmentalize your emotions, Agent, I will have you removed from the case.”

You hold yourself back from yelling that you need to be the one who brings him home, because you know how ridiculous it sounds and you being stubborn isn’t helping Aaron. “Fine.” You say, “Here’s what I can tell you.”

***

You’re on top of him, straddling his hips, giggling as your hair falls in your face. He reaches up to push it away and you grind your hips against his. “Hotchner.” You say, “You have to wake up.” He frowns. It’s not your voice.

And before he can stop it, your face swims away and it’s replaced by SSA Scott Carter. It takes him a few moments to realize that Carter isn’t here to help him and that he was probably behind this whole thing. “Carter?” He manages.

Carter smiles, “Ah, the darling of the BAU finally awakens. What were you dreaming about, Hotchner? Sounded juicy. Was it about your girlfriend?” His head shot up at that. If you were in danger, he’d kill this son of a bitch. “Oh, I hit a nerve.” He smirks, “Did you tell her you weren’t planning on coming home this week? That you had some loose strings to tie up?”

Hotch blinked, his brain was still fuzzy from what he assumed was a concussion, “You… You’re the one stealing the military weapons and selling them to the terrorist organizations.” He hadn’t told you he was planning on staying a few more days to figure out who was transporting the weapons, he had still been hoping to figure it out before his flight was scheduled to leave, but Carter had been his prime suspect. Apparently, Carter had figured out he was on to him. It was why he was able to get Khan’s men to drag him from his tent this morning.

Carter gives him a slow clap, “You know, for a profiler, I’m disappointed you hadn’t figured it out sooner, Hotchner. Really, I’m very torn up about it. I have half a mind to fly to Quantico after you’re dead and demand your position.”

Aaron laughs, “You’re out of your mind if you think my team won’t figure this out in a quarter of the time it took me to.”

“What did you tell them, Hotchner?”

“I haven’t been in contact with my team in weeks.”

“Oh, but your girlfriend. Did you think I’d forget she’s a federal agent in the BAU as well?”

“She doesn’t know anything, the mission was classified, you know that.”

“You never mentioned your suspicions of a lucrative weapons trading operation?”

“No.”

Carter hums and takes out a knife, “I don’t believe you.”

Hotch doesn’t flinch, “Then go ahead and carve me up, Carter. You won’t be the first.”

***

With Reid’s help, after working through the night you were able to narrow down the possible holding sights to three places and Strauss ordered three separate teams to check each place. Now the only thing left to do was wait.

You’re sitting alone in Hotch’s office when Penelope, JJ, and Emily all walk in, JJ holding a tea for you. You give her a small smile of thanks as you take it, “You guys don’t have to sit with me, I’m okay.”

“Did you think we were going to just let you gloss over the fact you never told us you were dating Hotch?” Penelope said.

You manage a genuine smile and look down at your tea, “We weren’t sure when or how to tell you guys. Or if it would make things weird.”

JJ shrugs, “We’re already family and families are weird.”

“Not the point,” Penelope interjects, “We need all the details now, who made the first move?”

“He did, actually,” You smile recalling the memory, “He asked me if he could call me outside of work hours and I said sure, he could always call me to discuss a case. Then he got really red and I asked him if there was something else he would want to call me about. And he cleared his throat and asked if he could call me to ask me out to dinner sometime and I laughed and said yes.”

Emily shakes her head, “Hard to imagine that man getting flustered over anything.”

You laugh, “Yeah, he gets really awkward around women he likes romantically, it’s kind of endearing.” You clear your throat, “Thank you guys for trying to distract me.”

JJ nods, “They’re going to find him. Alive.”

You nod, “Yeah. I just wish it was my face he was seeing first.”

***

You had somehow managed to fall asleep at some point, head in JJ’s lap with her fingers gently combing through your hair.

“Guys.” Spencer’s voice jolts you from sleep, “They found him.”

All of you jump up, but you’re the first one out of the room, trailing Spencer, “He’s okay?”

“He’s injured, but yeah, he’s gonna be fine.”

Your legs almost give out, but JJ and Emily come on either side to grab your arms as you walk into the conference room.

“They’re airlifting him to the hospital, he was stabbed a couple of times but they were shallow, some burns, looks like he was waterboarded as well,” Erin Strauss smiles, “But he’s fine. They’ll transfer him to DC first thing in the morning.”

“What about Carter?” You ask.

“It turns out he was stealing weapons from the military and selling them to terrorist organizations and Hotch was onto him. That’s why he took him. Not because of Khan. He wanted to know how much Hotch knew and if he had told you anything.”

You shake your head, “I didn’t know anything about that.”

Strauss nodded, “Carter has people here. Hotch didn’t mention it to you on purpose. So that they wouldn’t take you if something happened.”

You close your eyes. That man, always trying to protect you. Always being the hero. You could have found him hours ago if he had just told you. But that was the man you had fallen in love with.

***

You insisted on being on the roof of the DC hospital when the chopper landed and you charmed all the nurses into allowing you into every room he was wheeled in until he was settled. They had sedated him for the long flight and it seemed he would wake at any moment. You slid your small, cold hand, into his large, warm one and waited.

“I know that ice cold hand,” He said slowly. His voice was gravely and it brought tears to your eyes to see that he was trying to smile. “Oh, hey, don’t cry.” He reaches his hand up to stroke your cheek and you turn your head into his hand to kiss his palm, sniffling.

“I’m very happy to see you.” You manage, choking down your sobs, “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.” His smile grows, “It’s not funny!”

“It’s very funny, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry over anything and certainly not me.” You glare at him through your tears and he chuckles, “Ah, there she is, tough guy. I know the only thing holding you back from punching me in the shoulder is that I’m injured.”

“Oh, I’ll still do it if you don’t shut that pretty mouth of yours.”

He smirks, “Promise?”

And finally you break into laughter and lean over him to kiss his mouth, “You should’ve told me about Carter.” You say, “You could have at least told me you were in danger.”

“And what, have you worried from an ocean away when it might have been nothing? I needed more evidence.”

You bite your lip, “I’ve never been so scared in my whole life, watching you get taken like that.”

“I came home.” He says softly, “I’m okay, I promise.”

You swallow, “Did they get Carter?” He nods, “And what about the guys that took you in?”

“Sweetheart, that’s a whole terrorist organization, no they didn’t get them.”

“They kidnapped a federal agent!” You say indignantly.

“And the federal agent is alive.”

“But—!”

He puts a finger over your mouth to quiet you, “Don’t make me argue with you like your unit chief right now. I just want to be your boyfriend.”

You sigh, “Okay,” Leaning over him, you rest your head on his chest and he begins stroking your hair. Having not slept at all since Hotch had been taken, you fall asleep like that. Finally at peace.

***

You hadn’t really been able to let it go, even when Hotch was better and back to work, he could tell you were harboring real anger about his kidnappers.

And on that morning, the morning you jumped on the god forsaken helicopter, when the BAU was asked to come to New York to investigate a possible terrorist threat, he debated telling you not to come. The government had suspicions that they were here to take revenge for Khan and he knew you’d be upset with being benched.

“Hotch, I’m fine. I’m not angry.” You had said when he pulled you into his office after debriefing the rest of the team.

“If you even hint at taking impulsive, reckless risks I will suspend you immediately, understood?”

You sigh, “I hate when you use your boss man voice with me.”

“Y/N—” He starts impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, understood. No being reckless. Got it.”

His eyes scan your face to see if you’re lying, “Good.” He says finally and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s go then.”

He should have known you were lying. It was only the previous night you had woken him up tossing and turning from a nightmare. When he had finally gotten you awake you practically flung yourself at him, arms twining themselves around his neck as you caught your breath, “I thought you were gone again.” You had said breathlessly. And he had wordlessly held you to him, running his fingers through your hair until you were asleep again. It hadn’t been the first time he had had to comfort you. You had had far more nightmares about him being taken than he had about himself being tortured. Truth be told, he had been through far worse than being kidnapped and tortured for 24 hours. He knew it made you feel weak, the nightmares, when you weren’t even the one who had been tortured so he never brought them up. Never made you talk about them. But they worried him all the same. You relived the trauma again over and over, nearly every night. How were you expected to let the anger go when you were still living through it?

He should have known, but he let you out in the field anyway. Would that not put in question his ability to lead? His ability to lead with you on the same team?

He can barely see through his anger as he turns back to where Reid is instructing you to land. When you successfully land and jump out of the chopper, the rest of the team gathers around you to hug you, but Hotch stays back, watching.

When you notice, you walk over to him, “Hotch, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have--”

“You’re suspended for at least a month, if not more.” He starts, “You’re lucky I don’t remove you from this team all together.”

You frown, “Aaron, I was able to detain one of the suspects, now we can learn more about the group--”

“By doing what you did you put yourself and hundreds of civilians at risk. We could have shot down the chopper, but because you jumped onboard I had to instruct them to stand down. Which, by the way, I had to do several times because they were more than willing to kill you to get that chopper down, do you have any idea the damage you caused? What could have happened if you didn’t get control of that chopper when you did?”

“I… Baby, I’m sorry--” You reach your hand out to put on his arm, but he pulls away.

“Don’t talk like that, I’m not your boyfriend right now, I’m your unit chief. Now give me your badge and gun.”

You know you can’t blame him, he had warned you he would do this and you had disobeyed him intentionally. But still, your hands shake as you hand over your gun and badge. You don’t say anything else as you leave the roof, heading down all the way to ground level to get a taxi back to the hotel. And then you wait. You lay on your back and wait for the sound of the door opening and when it does hours later, you push yourself up and sit cross legged on the bed.

“Hi.” You say softly when he walks in.

He spares you a glance before heading to the bathroom without a word. You sigh and fall back on the bed. When you hear the shower running you decide to undress yourself and head in.

He sighs when he realizes you’ve joined him, but doesn’t object when you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his back, “I’m sorry.” You murmur.

“You keep saying that, but I know if you were given the opportunity to do it all again, you’d make the same decision.”

You pause at that, “You’re right, I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to disobey you to do it.”

He turns in your arms and looks down into your eyes, “Do you not see the problem with that? You did what you did out of revenge. You let your emotions get the best of you, you broke the number one rule of being in the BAU.”

“Those men were prepared to die at all costs, I just didn’t want them to get off that easy. I want them to pay for what they did to you, and this way, at least one of them will. Would you not have done the same? Did you not murder Foyet after he had given himself up because he had killed your wife and threatened your son?”

“Don’t.” He warns.

You scoff, “You have this God complex sometimes, Aaron, and it’s so frustrating. You can do whatever you want because you always have a reason and from your standpoint you’re always right. But whenever one of your toy soldiers falls out of line, it’s a different story--”

“What I did with Foyet did not put myself or civilians at risk.” He says firmly.

“You went in alone.” You said, “You didn’t wait for backup.”

He looks down and shakes his head, “You cannot compare what you did today to the things I’ve done because I would never endanger hundreds of innocent people just for some petty revenge.”

He thinks your eyes water, but it’s difficult to tell in the shower, “It wasn’t petty, Aaron. Not to me.”

He sighs and bends his forehead to yours, bringing both hands up to cradle your face, “Honey, I’m fine. You have to let it go.”

You close your eyes at his touch and lean up just slightly to capture his mouth with yours and as he sighs into your mouth you pull away, just slightly, “If it was me… If I was the one who was kidnapped and tortured in a country thousands of miles away, what would you have done?”

He swallows, and searches your face, “There wouldn’t have been a single protocol that I wouldn’t have broken to get you home safe.”

You nod, “I’m sorry. I understand why you’re upset, I put others in danger. It won’t happen again.”

He kisses you hard on the mouth, “You’re still suspended.”

You hum and he pushes you against the shower wall, his hand coming up to rest on your throat, “Are you going to punish me?” You asked breathlessly.

“Maybe.” He leans down and scrapes his teeth against your neck, hand tightening around your throat just slightly in warning when you squirmed. “I’m still angry with you.” He says, his eyes looking up to meet yours, tightening his grip on your throat again.

You can barely breathe through his grip, “For disobeying you?”

“No.” He says roughly, “For nearly getting yourself killed.”

You manage to swallow, “And that would have upset you?”

The desire immediately fizzles out of his eyes and he drops his hand, “Of course it would, how could you ask that?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just…” You shrug, “I don’t know, forget it.”

“No,” He puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you from leaving, “Do you really think I wouldn’t have been upset if you died?”

“Aaron,” You say slowly, “You are the love of my life. But Haley was yours. And that’s okay, I don’t expect anything else, but it’s just a fact of our relationship that I love you more than you love me.”

He stares at you blankly for another moment, and then looks away to turn the shower off. He leaves you standing there, wet and naked as he climbs out of the shower and towels himself off silently.

“Aaron.” You say after he’s been silent for so long, stepping out of the shower and wrapping your own towel around yourself.

“You think there can only be one?”

You blink, “What?”

“A person can have more than one love of their life, you think you just get one and done?”

You frown, walking over to the bed and lowering yourself onto it, “Yes, that’s the whole concept.”

He scoffs at you, “I forget how young you are, you think you know everything there is to know about relationships, you have no idea.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Me?” He raises his eyebrows, “Don’t patronize you, you’re the one who just tried to convince me you know more about my feelings, about who I love than I do. That’s quite patronizing, wouldn’t you say?”

You look down at your hands, “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

He sighs and walks over to you, crouching in front of you, “Haley was the love of my life, that’s true. But in my head,” He swallows, “There’s the me from before Haley, and there’s the me from after Haley. And you,” He brushes his index finger over the tip of your nose, “Were the person who made the me after Haley believe I deserved love again. You are just as much the love of my life as she is and I have no idea where I’d be right now if I hadn’t met you.”

You finally give him a little bit of a smile, “Probably even more insufferably miserable than you are now.”

He chuckles and you relish in the sound, bringing your fingers up to lightly stroke his cheek, “I’m sorry. For everything today, being reckless, bringing up Haley… I’m sorry, I was out of line.”

“It’s okay,” He says softly, “But you pull a stunt like that again, I’ll fire you.”

“Yes sir.” You say, smirking as you lean in to kiss him, twining your arms around the back of his head. Gently, you tug and pull him back on the bed, on top of you and you feel him smile into your mouth.

Since you’re already naked from the shower, he can’t stop his hands from wandering across your soft skin. His hand grips your thigh, lifting up your leg and allowing him to squeeze your ass. You gasp into his mouth just the way he likes and he bites down on your lower lip. “Aaron,” You whine.

“Did you want something, sweet girl?” He whispers in your ear as his hand slides between your legs.

It’s not fair, he knows when he works you up like this it’s nearly impossible to get a coherent word out of you. You manage only to moan his name again as he slowly, torturously, rubs over you again. “Come on, baby, use your words.” He teases and you can hear the smile in his voice. Bastard.

He runs a single finger down your folds, “Should I make you come with my fingers?” He slowly dips a finger inside you, eating up your reaction as your mouth falls open and a moan claws its way up your throat. “Or,” He pulls his finger out and you glare at him, “I could do it with my mouth.” Your eyes roll back when he licks you and you physically ache at his touch. But then he stops, “Or maybe,” He crawls back up to kiss your mouth and you can taste yourself on his tongue, “I won’t let you come at all since you’ve been such a bad girl.”

“Please,” You whine, “Please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

When he pulls back to look at you, his pupils are blown out and you feel such a rush seeing your effect on him. “We’ll see.” He says softly and without warning thrusts into you. Your back arches against the mattress as you curse. When your eyes meet his, he has a look of such confident satisfaction it nearly makes you come undone right there. “I think,” He pulls out slowly, “I’ll take my time with you tonight.” He reaches up a hand and wraps it around your throat again, “Is this okay?” He says softly, breaking his role for the first time.

You nod, “Please.” You say again, knowing how he loves when you beg. He scans your face once and then he grins again, tightening his hand around your throat until you’re gasping. “Good girl,” He whispers in your ear and slowly pushes into you again, gently biting your ear.

“Baby,” You manage with what little air you’re able to take in. He immediately stops, taking his hands off you, but you shake your head and pull his hand back to your throat, “Harder.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Fuck,” He curses, wrapping both hands around your throat, “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

And you smirk as he pushes down on your windpipe before slamming his hips into you at full force, you’re rapidly approaching climax, but Aaron can tell. You don’t know how he can tell, but he immediately slows his hips and takes his hands off your throat. You gasp at the sudden release and cough a little bit, “I didn’t tell you you could come.”

“I didn’t,” You say breathlessly, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You almost did, and you would have if I didn’t stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looks at you and tilts his head to the side as he watches you, “Turn around.” He says calmly.

You hide your smile as you do what you’re told, turning on your knees, letting your forearms and face fall to the pillow. He roughly pulls at your waist, repositioning you and pulling your ass up even farther. He runs a hand over your ass, “Look at you, so pretty for me.” He says softly before pulling back his hand and smacking it hard against your ass. You moan into your pillow and then he’s inside you, a fistful of your hair in his fist.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yes.”

He slams into you roughly making you yelp, “And you’ll never disobey me again?”

You swallow, “Never.”

He releases your hair and leans over you, sweetly kissing your shoulder and you can feel his smile against your skin, “That’s my sweet girl.” He reaches his arm around your front and begins to massage your clit as he thrusts into you. “Come for me, baby.” He says and speeds up his movements. It’s all the permission you need and you’re immediately unraveling. It takes everything in you not to collapse onto your stomach until he’s also climaxing, brought to his edge by the pulsing of your walls. He swears and collapses fully onto your back, your knees giving way under his weight.

You both lay there like that, him resting on your back in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. Then, Aaron sits up quickly, hands searching your skin, “I’m sorry, baby, did I hurt you?”

“No.” You say, but he presses kisses all over your skin anyway, immediately entering aftercare mode.

You sigh sleepily and pull him to you, wanting to snuggle with him. He obliges, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into your neck. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin, “So much.”

You hum, “I love you. Thank you for not firing me.”

“If you ever end up getting yourself killed I’ll never forgive you.”

You chuckle and kiss his temple, “Noted.”

#mine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #hotch angst #hotch fluff #aaron hotchner #hotch smut #hotch imagine

465 notes · View notes

kalee60 · 4 years

Note

i wish you would write a fic where jock!bucky seduces twink!steve, maybe he hits steve with that pec flex guys do that is both dick-ish and insanely hot at the same time?

Oh Manda - you absolute gorgeous gem! I very much like what you're asking me to create here 😘 I also love, love, love that you sent me a prompt!

I immediately think of sun, summer, ice cream, boys at the beach playing frisbee and our gorgeous Smol!Steve and Jock!Bucky as friends mutually pining (Ha - it's me, it was never going to be anything but this story!)

Once again, my quick little drabble (that I wrote today when I woke up {thanks to my sprinting buddies in discord}) turned into a 4k fic... But I mean - I think that's okay (more stucky for us - right?)

I hope you like where I took this, maybe in a slightly different direction than intended - it's also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to check them out and read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Beach and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

Steve was in hell, literally. It was hot, he was sweaty and he was being tortured. Honestly, Steve really loved summer, but at the same time he loathed it. And most of that had to do with the fact he had to sit around in his large group of friends and watch Bucky fucking Barnes sans top and wearing only a small pair of running shorts frolic over the sand at the beach.

Life was unfair.

How could somebody like Bucky actually exist in real time? He was a complete jock for starters, his looks and size perfect for being naturally great at sports, earning him a football scholarship of his choice (of course). And Steve, well Steve Rogers was as far from a jock as anyone could get. Not that he was horrible in the fitness and muscular department, but he was too little and his asthma still played up to join rugged contact sports. Being 5’4 also didn’t particularly endear him to any of the coaches at college who were scouting for star players. Plus studying to be a high school teacher probably wasn’t sporty enough, and he was leaning towards a specialist English role, not Gym.

So Steve joined the campus gym instead of a sporting team, did weights and classes and enjoyed it immensely. It was where he met Natasha, and that fateful meeting brought him to Bucky and his dickish jock ways and friends.

Though if Steve was to be fair (of which he was - usually) not all jocks were dicks, even if Steve had preconceived notions from high school what college boys would be like. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that the captain of the football team was not only gorgeous, cocky and a bit of a douche, but also very smart, kind and had a smile that could make Steve’s legs turn to jelly with only a small half tilt.

But it was as he sat on a towel under the shade of a large umbrella that Carol had stolen from her parent’s garden shed, that Steve really felt the heat, and it had nothing to do with the blazing sun above him and the burning sand beneath his feet.

It was all Bucky Barnes and his chest, his slim waist, his tanned olive skin, the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his sinewed and muscled thighs that tapered down to calves that bunched up as he jumped and landed to grab the frisbee aimed at him.

Steve sighed heavily as his gaze lingered on the brunette. Bucky Barnes was every mans wet dream, every girls perfect prince, and Steve pulled his dark sunnies over his eyes again, ignoring the pounding in his chest, the throbbing in his groin as he watched Bucky behind dark lenses spring up and prance over the sand, laughing with a wide mouth that could do sinful things to Steve’s body. The worst part was that Bucky was doing all of this with no knowledge that Steve harboured the biggest crush of his life.

It really was unfair.

Sitting back to lean on his hands, stretching his legs out, he saw Bucky glance over at him, and gave a smile. Bucky grinned back and then grappled Sam to the sand to yank the frisbee from his grip. Life wasn’t unfair because Bucky didn’t date guys, he did, very much so, and girls too from what Steve had seen, it was just the guys Bucky dated were typically more like… jocks.

Steve hunched over, trying to not stare too long and inadvertently get turned on, finding it an impossibility as his eyes wouldn’t tear away from Bucky’s frame as he bounded effortlessly over the soft sand, something Steve couldn’t do. He’d almost lost a lung from the trek over to their secluded spot earlier that day. Soft sand was the enemy - that was fact.

“Heads up.”

Startled from his thoughts by Bucky’s deep voice urgently calling out his way, Steve looked up only to see the frisbee coming straight for him. With a reaction that even surprised himself, Steve raised his hand and caught the flying disc with nary a blink of an eye.

Bucky was skidding to a halt on his knees before him a second later.

“Shit, Steve. That was epic, you sure you don’t want to play? You can be on my team - my secret frisbee weapon.”

Steve’s mouth went dry as he tried to listen to the words leaving Bucky, because the delectable man was less than two feet away and the smell of sunscreen, sweat and something virile and uniquely Bucky entered his senses. Steve knew that if sitting next to Bucky in the dining hall was torture when Bucky was wearing his spicy cologne, he’d keel over being enveloped in his sweaty beach scent for longer than a minute.

God he wanted Bucky to fill him, everywhere. Make him forget his name, take him over and over.

He realised that he still hadn’t answered and heat crept into his cheeks, managing to blurt out, “I’m good for now. Nat’s grabbing ice creams and I don’t want to get a stitch.”

Steve then gave Bucky what he hoped was a soft and cheeky winning grin, but the way Bucky faltered, swallowed tightly, face impassive made Steve wonder if he’d missed the mark on trying to be flirty.

He really was as hopeless as Darcy continually told him.

Steve’s eyes trailed down to Bucky’s broad and lightly haired chest, finding himself breathing quicker, wondering if he’d remembered to pack his inhaler. No, he was sure it was in the pocket of his backpack. Thank god, he might need it in the face of Bucky’s glorious muscles moving in his vision all day.

“If you’re sure,” Bucky finally said in a deep steady voice.

“Maybe later,” Steve stammered, holding up the frisbee with a shaky hand. He had to get a grip.

“Alright, later then, I’m holding you to that.” And Bucky took the disc from Steve’s grip and was off bounding towards Sam, Carol, Thor and Maria.

While Steve recalibrated his thoughts, Nat came back holding only one ice cream cone, licking it slowly with a sparkle in her eye as Clint trailed behind, wearing Nat’s beach bag and carrying the rest of the ice creams, and Steve worried she’d overestimated his balancing skills. But if Nat asked, Clint would do - it was kind of amazing the power she had over him without even trying. Although they weren’t dating (yet), Nat was never cruel, she was playing the long game and really liked Clint, but had been hurt before by some Russian asshole, and Steve knew that Clint, when Nat finally agreed to go out with him would never be the same man again. He’d be lost in deep shock and joy. They were perfect for each other.

A pang went through his gut as Steve watched them, taking a cone from Clint, wishing he had someone that wanted him as much as they wanted each other.

“Vanilla,” Nat commented with a scrunch of her nose at Steve’s choice as he took a lick of the creamy goodness, the chill on his tongue welcome under the heat of the day. “You’re so very basic, Rogers.”

“Hey there is nothing wrong with that. I happen to love vanilla.” A rich voice said from right in front of Steve as Bucky flopped down on the sand, kicking up little grains that stuck on Bucky’s thighs where he was sweating. Steve shut his eyes against the picture before him, once again pleading to any God or Goddess that would listen that it wasn’t fair, that they had to find him someone one day. He just hoped it would be soon, else his dick drop off from Bucky unwittingly giving him blue balls.

“You’re one to talk, you didn’t even want ice cream, just a soda. And a club soda at that.”

Bucky looked over to Nat, flashing her a wide grin, and Steve immediately started to lick his ice cream just to do anything but stare at the crinkling in the corners of Bucky’s eyes, or to watch his lips as they wrapped around the bottle tip. He only half listened to their banter as they kept teasing each other, Nat and Bucky having been best friends from childhood, the reason how Steve inadvertently fell into the group of jocks, for a lack of a better term to encompass all the fit people he was now surrounded with.

Nat had introduced him to everyone after they’d hit it off at the gym in first semester, and Steve had waited for the inevitable teasing to commence about his small stature, but it never came. He was always included, never mocked (unless it was called for, because he was a facts man and couldn’t help correcting people when they were clearly in the wrong) and it was such a novel experience, so how could he not fall immediately in lust with the football captain? One who had smokey blue-grey eyes, sinfully full lips made for kissing among other fun activities and a personality that you could fall into and live inside forever.

“Err, Steve… your ice cream, it’s ummm, dripping.”

“What?” Steve asked, realising that he’d been swirling his tongue over the top of the soft confectionary and that his fingers were now completely sticky as the ice cream dripped over them on to his thigh. “Oh shit.”

Steve immediately switched hands and started to lap at his fingers, tongue darting between them to catch all the creaminess, sucking them into his mouth one by one, only looking up when he heard a muted groan. Bucky was moving before him, squirming in the sand, and as his eyes landed on Bucky, he startled, surprised to find Bucky’s hooded gaze directly on Steve. But his eyes hadn’t landed just anywhere, they were trained to Steve’s mouth, and as Steve swiped his finger through the sweetness that had dribbled on his thigh, Bucky’s gaze followed that finger's movements. Steve without thought, heart thumping hard, confusion and awe flowing through his veins, stuck the digit in his mouth, licking off the stickiness.

Thankfully, Steve had his sunglasses on, hiding his expression, but he knew his face was burning red at the brash and overt display. Bucky was watching him intently, the rise and fall of his gloriously thick chest heaved, and Bucky’s skin flushed from the exercise or maybe the sun. Steve wasn’t sure.

But it was as Steve licked around the base of the cone again, the ice cream melting quicker in the heat than he could swallow, Bucky’s pecs twitched.

Steve stopped all movement, caught at the tick of flesh, the way it bounced taut, watching with abject lust and desire as Bucky did it again - knowing exactly where Steve’s eyes were trained.

It was such a fucking dick move, a power move to get attention and Steve hated jocks who flexed like that, but on Bucky… on Bucky it was god damn mesmerizing. And it was after the third time Bucky’s pecs jumped, Bucky stood up abruptly and fled saying in a higher pitch than usual that he was jumping in the water, that Steve realised he might not have been doing it on purpose.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bucky was dead, he was going to die from being hard for... how long had he known Steve Rogers, six months maybe? Well, that was how long he’d survived with a non-stop boner for the blonde man. And he was at the end of his tether.

Steve was everything Bucky ever wanted in a partner, smart, strong, intense, funny, handsome and a person that he could fall into, spend time with - love.

So it didn't help his little issue to be at the beach that day, watching Steve sit under the huge umbrella on brightly coloured towels in his swim trunks and a loose tank with arm holes so big he could see all the way through to his muscular chest and pink nipples. It was driving him fucking insane.

Sure he’d seen Steve wearing an array of items at the gym, but he’d never witnessed him so carefree as he was at the beach. He was smiling more, relaxed, joking while big sunglasses hid those gorgeous eyes that would give the ocean a run for its money as to what was bluer.

But what killed Bucky that particular day over every other day he lusted after Steve, what made him clench and twitch all over was watching Steve lick up his ice cream. It was downright obscene, Steve shouldn’t be allowed to do that in public, or at least he should have a warning sticker on his person.

Steve had a mouth made for sucking cock, and Bucky wanted, no, he needed to know what having those lips wrapped around him felt like. Christ, he wanted to know what it felt like to be buried in Steve, maybe even have Steve press into him. Fuck.

There was only one thing for it.

He had to seduce Steve, and he had to do it soon.

But that begged the question - how?

How did Bucky capture the attention of the smartest, funniest, quick witted and grumpiest man on campus? Not only that, but to have Steve take him seriously? Bucky was aware that people thought he was only a dumb jock, that all he had to offer the world was to play ball and shit talk other teams and work out in the gym. Which, yeah of course he did all of those things - but he really was so much more. He was studying economics, was thinking about trying to specialise and work as an international trade specialist after college, and although Bucky really loved playing ball - it wasn’t his whole life. He’d never go pro - well, not without a hell of a lot of luck and persistence, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to take something he enjoyed and make it a living in that way. He’d seen how broken some sports stars bodies were after a career, and he still wanted to be able to walk at forty without having had three knee reconstructions.

But Steve, Steve saw through all of that, he spoke to Bucky like an intellect, like he had something worthy to say, to add to the conversation. Even at the gym after Nat had introduced them (Bucky begging to know who the gorgeous guy she was chatting to on the rowing machines was) Steve and he worked out together, had fun catcalling each other for being weak and helped each other with their forms - something Bucky largely did just to get hands on Steve even though Steve’s form was perfect.

Bucky had been taken with the slight man from the first moment he’d seen him, always under the impression that Steve was too smart to even think about dating a meathead like him, even if he truly wasn't what his physique made him. So he stuck with friendship, but now he wanted more. Was going to ask for more.

“Whatcha thinking?” Nat asked as she swam out to float in the water next to him.

“Nothing much,” He replied, ignoring her knowing hum. He hated that they’d been friends forever and she knew all his tells.

The much needed cold water had soothed his itching skin, and from his vantage point he could look back at their rag tag group of friends, able to stare unabashadly at Steve as he laughed with Clint and Thor about something, staring up at Thor as he... as he fucking flexed in front of Steve.

“Easy boy,” Natasha grabbed his bicep that was taut from clenching his fists, “Thor’s with Jane remember? Steve’s not interested in someone like Thor anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes swung to her immediately. “What do you mean? Because he's a jock?”

Nat let out an exasperated sigh. “No you idiot. Because he’s interest lies elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s chest squeezed tight, wondering who had Steve’s undivided attention. And he couldn’t help but watch Steve as Carol held out a hand to pull him to his feet, and suddenly Bucky forgot his disappointment when Steve pulled his tank off, revealing a gorgeous toned body in all its glory. Bucky’s dick stirred. Thank fuck he was hidden in the water.

“You are a colossal idiot. You know that right?” Nat deadpanned.

“I have to ask Steve out,” he blurted. “I need to… I need to be with him.”

“I know,” Nat said with a smirk, and Bucky looked at her gratefully, if she helped he would be fine. “But that really sounds like a you problem. Have fun with that.”

“You horrible cow,” Bucky sniped back, ready to splash her, but she was already under the water stealthily swimming up behind Clint, only to dunk the unsuspecting man.

Bucky’s attention suddenly caught on movement on the shoreline as Steve stood knee deep, testing the water and with no further hesitation, dove in, coming up for air not far from where Bucky floated. Bucky watched mesmerized as the sun glinted off Steve’s wet eyelashes, before he wiped the droplets from them, smiling at Bucky.

“Oh god, this water feels amazing.”

“So would you,” Bucky whispered.

“Huh?” Steve asked.

For a long moment, Bucky stared at Steve, realising that sound carried over water differently and Steve most likely caught what he said. Seducing someone was hard, even though he hadn’t even tried yet.

Instead of answering, Bucky ducked his head so his mouth went underwater and swam towards Steve like a shark, deciding that he just had to ask him point blank, no messing around with seduction. Slipping up out of the water at the last moment he put on his most predatory smile, Steve’s eyes widening and he looked around, face flushed and Bucky hoped he wasn’t looking for an escape.

He quickly darted behind Steve, wrapping his arms tight around his lithe body, trying not to linger too much as Steve was the perfect fit, felt so good against him; and when he heard the small gasp from Steve’s throat he launched him into the air. Flinging Steve into the water a few feet away.

“You fucker,” Steve exclaimed laughing as he came up for air, and Bucky smirked.

Suddenly with a smirk of his own that made Bucky inhale sharply, Steve disappeared under the water, Bucky feeling him come up underneath his body and with a strength that belied Steve’s small stature, completely turning Bucky on more than it should, he was pushed up out of the water, throwing him completely under as well.

“Jesus, Steve. You should join the team.” Bucky spluttered when he came up for air.

Steve grinned back, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and Bucky stared, lost in how stunning Steve looked in the sunlight, that he was there before him alone in the ocean full of people, “I mean they already have you and Sam as Captains. Wouldn’t want to put either of you out of a job.”

Bucky laughed, “I don’t doubt you’d do it too, Stevie.”

And when Steve stopped smiling, Bucky realised what he’d said.

“Shit, sorry - you don’t like that? Nicknames?”

“No I... I do…” Steve answered softly, and Bucky became lost in a blue that matched the water they were treading.

“Would you get out with me?” Bucky blurted.

“Sorry? Get out of the water?”

Bucky internally facepalmed himself. “No, I mean go out.”

“Out. With you?”

Bucky nodded.

“Err, why me?” Steve asked in a small voice lost on a gust of wind.

Looking at Steve, who stared back at him with questions in his eyes, Bucky wanted to explain how much he’d desired it for months, to tell Steve all the ways he wanted to make him happy, and as a multitude of words sat on his tongue, Bucky suddenly understood Steve might not listen to his reasoning, might not believe him. So he decided to show his intent instead, and swam closer. Steve’s eyes were wide, guileless, Bucky seeing a small spark of something more, and hoping he wasn’t triple jumping over a line, he swam up behind Steve. He felt Steve tense up, anticipating to be flung into the water again, but instead, Bucky pulled him closer so that Steve’s back slotted against his front and leaned in, mouth only an inch away from Steve’s ear.

“Why you? Oh Stevie, you have no idea how gorgeous you are. How much I want you.” Bucky pressed his nose against the back of Steve’s ear and inhaled deeply, sunscreen, salt and Steve’s shampoo filled his senses and he lost his head for a moment, especially when Steve let out a high pitched groan and wriggled back into Bucky. “I want to spread you out beneath me, I want to lick all the sweat off your body, sweat that I'm going to cause from working you hard, making you work extra hard for my dick, because Stevie - I want you, I want you bad, and I think you might want me back just as much.”

Bucky hoped he wasn’t completely off base with his desires, that Steve really was just as interested, and when Steve ground back against him, skin sliding against Bucky’s, letting out another moan at the friction when he felt Bucky hardening up underneath him, Bucky knew it was going to be ok.

“Yes…” Steve whimpered as his shorts caught against Bucky’s dick, pushing backwards.

“You want that baby?”

“Fuck. Yes, I do.”

“How much?”

Steve spluttered, and Bucky couldn’t help chuckle at the noise. “What do you mean?”

“How much do you want it?” Bucky knew he was being a prick, making his pec’s tense against Steve’s back, pulling him onto his lap as they floated in the water, before wrapping a leg around one of Steve’s pulling it to the side, making Steve gasp gorgeously.

“A normal amount,” Steve husked back.

“Oh, you want me a normal amount - is that all?” Bucky smirked before licking a sloppy stripe up Steve’s neck at the same time as he snuck a hand down the front of Steve’s swim trunks, gripping his dick tightly, feeling the impressive length and girth for the first time. Fuck, he was definietly not taking switching of the table. But not anytime soon. First, he wanted to take Steve apart in every way conceivable.

Steve meanwhile, was liquid in his arms, going slack as Bucky took his time to explore while they floated in circles not far from the shore, but far enough out they wouldn’t get in trouble. He hoped.

The moans tearing from Steve’s throat were getting louder though, Bucky loving every noise punched out of Steve as he stroked harder under the water, the friction and pressure of the water making him slower and more languid than usual. And Bucky wanted to make Steve call out with no thought or boundaries, nothing to stifle his pleasure, he needed Steve coming in his arms, again and again.

“I think you might just want me a little more than that.” Bucky rasped against Steve’s neck, sucking a bruise onto his pink skin, giving Steve’s dick another sharp tug and before he knew what was happening, Steve was shaking in his arms, whimpering out a release and Bucky was speechless. Utterly speechless as he continued to stroke Steve slowly, carefully as he jerked in his hand.

“Holy fuck, you’re stunning, gorgeous, the absolute best,” Bucky rambled into Steve’s neck, nipping kisses and pressing his lips against him in absolute awe at what had just occured.

Suddenly Steve moved, spinning himself around to straddle Bucky and he went under for a moment as their weights shifted and came back up spluttering, only for Steve to launch himself so his lips pushed against his. Steve took over, devouring his mouth, and although Bucky was the one in control, holding them both up, he’d never felt so out of control as Steve writhed and ground down as best he could in the water. Shit, Steve was going to be a handful and Bucky was there for it.

As he kissed back, grabbing the back of Steve’s head, holding him still as he pressed his tongue in deeply, a huge beach ball smacked into the side of his face. They jumped apart with a gasp.

“Don’t make me go get the hose!” Nat yelled out as she and Clint swam around nearby. “It’s about time you dolts wised up, but this is a public beach with you know - families.”

Bucky watched as Steve’s face flushed a perfect shade of red, and he couldn’t help but grab him again, giving him a quick intense kiss, claiming Steve until he struggled for breath, to show Bucky’s intent was clear and true. It was pure perfection.

“We’ll pick this up again later.” Bucky promised.

“Later.” Steve replied breathlessly.

Suddenly Steve pushed himself away from Bucky, grabbing and throwing the beach ball, hitting Clint dead on the nose. The surprised yelp from both Clint and Natasha made Bucky laugh.

“Oh it’s so on, James,” Nat yelled out.

Steve piped up from his side, “you wish, Romanoff - we’re gonna take you down!”

Bucky beamed.

“Yeah!” he called over to them, dodging the ball that came directly for him as Nat and Clint shit-talked. And as he and Steve swam out to retrieve the ball floating behind them, Bucky turned to Steve and gave him an overtly salacious wink. “And once we take them down, I’m going to take you home and show you what going down is all about.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Really? That was incredibly lame, especially for a savvy sex-crazed jock.”

“You’re not interested in my proposal then?”

“Oh I’m interested,” Steve grinned, licking his lips and Bucky caught his breath. “But if you’re going to use dad jokes on the regular - I might have to start calling you something else in the bedroom.”

Steve then threw the ball, Nat ducking at the last minute, and Bucky didn’t even feel when the returning pitch slammed into his head; Steve’s words creating a delicious cacophony of images and filthy thoughts in his mind instead.

Bucky had always known that Stevie Rogers was going to be both the life and death of him, and as he rubbed his head, grasping the ball in one hand, ready to throw it, he couldn’t wait to see where their adventure would take them.

But first - Clint had to pay.

#stucky #mywriting #friends to lovers #college #bottom Steve #implied switch #beach and fun #melting ice creams are a real issue for libidos #gift for Manda - the best and brightest of them all #prompt game #kalee answers

154 notes · View notes

awkward-gay-bro · 4 years

Text

New Position

Officer James Hanson knew he had killed this interview. The skinny suit who had conducted it had been eying him up the whole time. Hanson couldn’t blame him of course, anyone would be lucky to get to look at his studly muscles, but the guy should have tried harder to hide it. They were police officers, after all. They were supposed to be men. That didn’t stop Hanson from flexing his arms across his strapping chest, whatever got him the position that was rightfully his.

Hanson considered himself one of the most up and coming officers, and he knew he deserved to be in a position of real power. He was tired of just being another uni, he knew that he should be something better. And low and behold a scout for a swat division he’d never even heard of approached him. The man was almost as rippling with muscle as he was and had told him that his personality was exactly what they looked for in a special position within their elite team. Hanson wanted to know more, but the other man said that this was on a need to know basis, and that if he got the position they could go into more details.

After signing and NDA and a contract that he could either turn around now, or he was signed on for the next five years, Hanson was sent a message of where to go for his special training. Hanson didn’t even read what he was signing, he was too excited. The little bit of information he had on this told him he’d even be getting his own office at the team’s secret headquarters. Hanson made his way to the address he’d been provided and couldn’t believe it. The skyscraper didn’t look anything like a precinct he’d seen before, and as he walked into the lobby he couldn’t help thinking he was in a movie. There was no one in the lobby, just a fancy fountain, artwork, topiaries, but nothing that would indicate this had to do with law enforcement. There was a singular elevator in the lobby, whose doors opened, and the suit who’d interviewed him walked out.

“Hello Officer Hanson, follow me, and we will begin your processing,” the suit said.

“Am I going to get to learn more about what we are doing here?” Hanson asked as he followed the other man into the elevator.

“We specialize in the things most people don’t even know exist. Crimes using technology most people would believe are simply science fiction fantasies,” the suit nonchalantly said as if he were talking about something as mundane about stamp collecting. “But we can talk about that later, first step is getting you down to the lab for transitioning.”

“Wait does that mean we have high tech weapons here? Like the guns in Men In Black?” Hanson said excitedly. He was ecstatic. He always knew that he was meant for something bigger than all those other schmucks from the academy. Finally, those thoughts were being confirmed.

As the elevator hit the floor labeled lab, the suit said, “That movie got more right than we expected, but you aren’t going to need to worry about that. This is Dr. Rosalind, she is our head geneticist. She will be taking care of you through the bulk of your transition to your new role.”

A beautiful woman, with flaming auburn hair walked out and extended her hand, “Hello, you must be Jamie. Let’s get you in my chair here, most of my subjects prefer to be out during the transition to avoid any pain, so I’m just going to do a small dose of anesthesia.”

“It’s James, and do I really need anesthesia just for you to do a physical? I can assure you, I’m in peak physical condition.” Hanson knew if this suit was the only kinda guy she’d been working with, he was definitely going to have a chance to get with this lady scientist. He was strapping and rugged, and guys like him always got the brainy hottie in the movies.

“This is going to be a lot more than just a physical, James. But I have a packed schedule today so let’s get this started.” As she said this she pulled down a mask to his face, flipped a switch, and he was out.

When Hanson woke back up, he was no longer in the lab. He was sitting in a dark bedroom that looked like something out of a brothel. There was no door to the room, just large deep red curtains. As he started to look around the massive room he saw that all of his belongings he’d set aside for relocation were there. If this was going to be his new room, he was definitely going to have to manly up the place. As he lifted one of the boxes he realized whatever the doctor had done really must have drained his energy, the box felt a lot heavier than it had when he packed it. Opening the box he pulled out his high school football jersey, his prized possession of the good old days. When he held it in front of himself, though, it fell down to his knees. It looked like it would be a dress on him.

“What the hell? They stretched out my jersey?” Looking through the other boxes he found that this was the only article of clothing they’d actually brought over. He couldn’t find any of his clothes. From the corner of his eye he spotted a closet, and assumed they must have already set his clothing up there. But none of his normal clothes were there. It was all way too faggy clothes, mixed with random skimpy costumes, and it was all several sizes too small. The closest thing to being in any way something he would wear was a leather swat uniform. He stripped out of the hospital gown he was for some reason wearing, only now realizing someone had to have removed his clothes for him. Hoping it was the scientist lady and not the suit, he quickly pulled on the leather pants. He hadn’t noticed how smooth his body had become, his hard earned muscles faded, his body hair gone, even his tattoos he’d spent so much time and money on were completely absent. The leather pants went up shockingly easy considering how small and tight they looked, until he got up to his butt. “I knew these wouldn’t fit,” he thought to himself. One massive tug, and he finally got them above his butt, which then began jiggling from the movement. “What the hell?” He reached down and grabbed his butt. Gone was his perky tight rear end, replaced with massive globes he couldn’t even fit in his hands. He hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact his hands had grown smaller and daintier, but these massive cheeks would have been more than a handful even with his formerly rugged paws.

He finished putting the costume on, buttoning a vest of his now lithe, smooth chest, when the suit walked in through the curtains. “Ah, Doctor Rosalind always does magnificent work. I forgot to introduce myself earlier, you can call me Cassidy. I see you found your new wardrobe?”

“What the hell did she do to my ass?” Hanson said as he turned to face his new coworker. When he finally saw him face to face he was horrified to see that he was now looking up at the man he’d once considered scrawny. He wasn’t just shorter than the other man, he was smaller. “How did you get so big?”

“I’m the exact same as I’ve always been, Jamie,” Cassidy chuckled. Looking up at him, Hanson hadn’t noticed before that he definitely had muscles. The dress shirt he was wearing was tight across his chest, and showed off the lean muscles of his frame. Hanson also noticed that his eyes were deep, and that his smile was as cute as any of his ex-girlfriends’. He immediately shook those thoughts out of his head.

“How is this going to help me be a better cop? How am I gonna shut down someone with high tech weapons if I can’t even reach the top shelf?” Hanson yelled.

“That’s not your job, Jamie. It’s mine,” Cassidy began to explain. “With our need for secrecy, our agents here are not able to leave and go back to their normal lives. And we aren’t able to start new lives with others. Our identities, like yours, have been erased from normal society. But we still have needs. That’s where a new program came in, a way for us to satisfy those needs, for friendship, for love, for lust. You were found by one of our recruiters with an ironic sense of humour, and you have gone through our rigorous treatment so that you can participate in that very program.”

“I’m supposed to be a cop! I’m supposed to be something great!” Hanson yelled.

“And now you are. You have been perfected to my specifications. You are definitely something great,” Cassidy said as he walked closer. Leaning down to Hanson, he planted a kiss, gently holding the back off his head. Hanson fell into the kiss, his body betraying him. The simple touch of the other man’s lips sent butterflies to his stomach and blood to his groin. As Cassidy caressed his face with one hand, he reached down with the other and grabbed one of Hanson’s massive mounds firmly. Falling farther into the kiss, Hanson arched his back pushing his jiggling cheek deeper into Cassidy’s hand.

Breaking from the kiss, Cassidy said, “You know, most of the agents here assign some new personalities to the partners. I liked how arrogant you were, I made sure they didn’t change a thing about that sexy brain of yours. Well, other than helping you appreciate mine as well.” Hanson should have been angry at what the other man had done, but all he could think of was how thoughtful it was that Cassidy made sure he would still be himself. Even if it was in a new package. “Now this will be your new office, it’s connected by these curtains to mine. We can go more into the rest of the facility, but what do you say we break in this bed?” With that Cassidy took his hand from Jamie’s head, and grabbed hold of his other cheek. Grabbing both cheeks firmly, he lifted the smaller man up, into his arms and began kissing him again. Jamie began grinding into the larger man as they kissed, his massive rear end twerking along in Cassidy’s hands. Jamie thought to himself that he’d have plenty of time to be angry later, right now he just wanted to show off that he was the best of the best no matter the position. And Cassidy had a lot of positions he wanted to try out.

#male tf #male transformation #man to boi #twinkification #butt growth #straight to gay #muscle theft #my work

225 notes · View notes

eyebeastposts · 3 years

Text

I posted 361 times in 2021

287 posts created (80%)

74 posts reblogged (20%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.3 posts.

I added 665 tags in 2021

#writing prompt - 95 posts

#eyebeast - 94 posts

#request - 94 posts

#exercise - 92 posts

#patreon - 88 posts

#female - 52 posts

#transformation - 50 posts

#tf - 50 posts

#wg - 25 posts

#poll - 25 posts

Longest Tag: 17 characters

#altar of eyebeast

My Top Posts in 2021

Patreon Prompt 24

Patreon

Prompt: A rather petite woman takes on a restaurant’s eating challenge, which is so tough the restaurant claims it’ll “make a man out of you.” She crushes the record, turning into a massive, bloated male in the process.

When the dainty woman named Hisaki entered the shop and declared her order, the staff took it as a joke. Shaking about her long black hair, she once again stated her intention to take on the legendary, Soba Stud Challenge. Taking her spot in the center of the restaurant, Hisaki watched the staff painstakingly load her table with 100 bowels of noodles. With half the staff already preparing to dispose of the challenger’s leftovers, the owner stepped out to ring a gong to begin the girl’s gauntlet.

Hisaki attacked the noodles like a rabid beast, not once touching her pair of chopsticks. One after another the bowls were emptied out and carelessly tossed to the ground. While most of the staff stood in awe of the sight before them, the owner sat in the corner, biting his nails. No one had managed to beat his challenge, using it as nothing more than a gimmick to bring in more customers. His soba wasn’t meant to be eaten in such large quantities, his heart skipping a beat as he watched the effects of his secret ingredient begin to affect Hisaki.

The young woman’s flat stomach bulged outwards to accommodate the immense amount of food. As her shirt rose higher up her swelling stomach, strands of unruly black hair crept around her deepening belly button and crept towards her chest and groin. Weight being layered onto her breasts increased their size, at the cost of taking their form to make them resemble a pair of dropping man pecs. Pausing to readjust her shirt with her plump fingers, she wiped stray drops of broth from the whiskers that dotted her upper lip and multiple chins. The chair supporting her massive weight creaked and groaned as she leaned her meaty rear to the side to scratch at the unsightly bulge in her overburdened sweatpants.

Picking up the final bowl, Hisaki brought it to his lips and sucked down the last of the broth. Letting the emptied bowl roll across the floor to join its fallen brethren, he lazily scratched at the hairs of his bloated belly. Opening his mouth wide, he let loose a loud belch that echoed through the restaurant. Turning towards the awestruck staff, he waved them over to request a dessert order to celebrate his hard earned victory.

7 notes • Posted 2021-04-02 04:40:40 GMT

Writing Prompt 386

Prompt: A cheerleader wants to date the star football player but can never seem to get his attention. With the help of a succubus she becomes his perfect match, leaving her shocked as she's transformed into an obese nerdy guy with gastrointestinal issues.

“And you’re sure about this?” the succubus asked, sliding her finger across the contract to illustrate her point.

“Of course,” Vanessa replied, flipping her luxurious blonde hair as she scribbled her name on the dotted line. “If Brent doesn’t want the banging body of the university’s hottest cheerleader, then so be it. I’ll become whatever he wants.”

The succubus smiled as she accepted the contract. “As you wish,” she said, pointing a finger at Vanessa and letting a spark of demonic energy hit her square in the chest.

Reeling from the warm sensation spreading through her, Vanessa watched her already voluptuous chest pack on with weight. Any elation she had at her growing cup-size was negated by the sight of her boobs losing their shapeliness as they became a pair of sagging pecs that ripped right through her top. Patches of unruly hair formed on her chest and spread down to cover bulbous belly and down to her nether region. Wriggling about her fattening rear and feeling her hair shrink up to a fourth of its original length, she felt something jostle about in her undergarments.

Vanessa’s discovery of the newly acquired penis and testicles brought out a husky, masculine gaps from his fattened, grease covered lips. Shivering as he realized what had happened to him, his visage became worsened by a bout of flatulence helping to rip apart his skirt to leave her standing on the field in only her underwear. Belching out a curse at the disappearance of the succubus, Vanessa was caught completely off guard as a pair of muscular hands reached out to grope his pecs.

“Hey there,” Brent said, nuzzling his face against Vanessa’s newly acquired peach fuzz. “Haven’t seen you around here before. How do you feel about Crusher Queen?”

“She is the greatest super hero developed by Iris Comics and deserved way more recognition from the UURRRP public when her standalone spin off came out,” Vanessa spouted, at a loss of where this wealth of nerdy info had come from.

“Finally, a guy with taste and good looks. What do you say we head back to my place for some beer and…other things?”

“Um, BWOOOORRRP sure,” Vanessa replied, a smile on his face as he waddled after Brent.

8 notes • Posted 2021-06-23 15:22:23 GMT

Writing Prompt 392

Prompt: A young woman makes a deal with a demon to receive immense riches. She's granted this wish, and is given immense wealth, but is also rendered a stinking, immobile blob as punishment for her greed.

Amidst the stacks of legal work and people dressed in their best suits were two obvious things that shouldn’t have existed in the court room. The first was a man with red skin, curved horns, and a black goatee that stood at the stand. The other was the immobile pile of two-ton fat taking up the space where the plaintiff stand would be. Wincing at the smell that permeated the woman once known as Gorgia Bennet, the jury had a hard time seeing her as anything other than a sphere of flesh that constantly spewed gas.

Walking past Gorgia with a clothes pin attached to his nose, Gorgia’s lawyer approached the demon with a contract in hand. “This is the contract you signed with my client, correct?”

“Yes,” the demon replied. “In exchange for making her the richest woman in the world, I gave her a body just as heavy as her greed.”

The demon’s smug smile faltered as the lawyer slammed the contract on the table. “That is where I and the rest of the court must disagree. Ever since gaining her riches, Ms. Bennet has funded hospitals, built orphanages, invested in medical research, and various other philanthropic activities. This is all while keeping her modest, one person apartment and appearing at many fundraiser events. In fact, she was in the middle of accepting an award for her work with the homeless when your curse decided to kick in. The building had to be evacuated once she crashed through 10 floors and filled the hotel with noxious fumes.”

Turning away from the silent demon, the lawyer approached the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, does that sound like the acts of a greedy woman to you?”

Upon watching the jurors in unison shake their heads, the demon rubbed his fingers against his temple. It was on that day that he was reminded why he and the other demons hated lawyers so much.

10 notes • Posted 2021-06-26 15:41:30 GMT

Halloween Prompt 72

Prompt: A fat bully steals candy from kids. She begins to gorge herself on her spoils before realizing she's turned into an immobile, living candy blob.

Another group of kids dressed in adorable costumes, another easy steal for Tana. Swiping the bags from their hands, she shot a nasty look at the one dressed as a witch. Far beyond looking over the moral implications of a college girl stealing from children, Tana shoved another handful of candy in her mouth. As she savored her stolen goods, she failed to see or hear the bolt of green energy that struck her on the back.

Over the next few successful candy thefts, Tana began to notice her belly bloating up. As her flesh continued to peek out of holes in her clothing, she saw a shimmering yellow color across her skin. Another handful of candy further expanded her flesh and made her realize her body had taken on the consistency of taffy. Having enough sense to stop before things got worse, she attempted to toss away the candy only for it to fly back into her open maw.

The candy from her various robberies acted on its own to further transform her body. Forced to guzzle down hundreds of pounds of sweets, Tana could only watch as she was transformed into a massive blob of banana flavored taffy. Left as an immobile sphere the size of a car, she wriggled about her sunken in limbs to see the young girl dressed as a witch return to claim her treats. Looking over the unmovable candy blob, the young witch let out a cackle, walking away despite the constant pleas of mercy from her victim.

11 notes • Posted 2021-10-26 16:05:09 GMT

Writing Prompt 396

Prompt: A young man walking through an empty park stumbles upon a strange statue of a naked voluptuous shortstack succubus that has the demon's spirit trap within. The human accidentally breaks the statue and becomes the succubus, leaving her free to waddle off in search for of some sexy time.

Sneaking past the gathering of priests outside of the park’s front gate, Aiden was determined to keep up his daily jogging route. Mere minutes into his run, he was stopped by the sight of an odd statue nestled against a tree. Approaching the two-foot statue, he couldn’t imagine how the park officials could allow such a demonic and promiscuous landmark to be installed. Glancing at some red writing along the statue’s base, he bent down to try and examine it.

A light bump of Aiden’s head against the statue was enough to send it toppling to the ground. The loud crash of stone shattering across the ground was accompanied with a series of maniacal giggling. Looking around for the source, Aiden paused at the sound of someone whispering in his ear. The female voice spoke of unrivalled pleasure and lust. All he needed to do was let her take over.

Softly nodding his head sent Aiden’s spiraling downwards to match the size of the statue he had just destroyed. In replacement for his height, he was gifted a pair of breasts and butt cheeks that looked like overfilled sandbags. Feeling up his assets with his elongated nails, Aiden’s reach gradually shifted towards his nether region. Feeling the edge of his newly formed labia, a few more flicks were enough to seal his fate.

Given complete control, the succubus accelerated her take over of Aiden’s body. Acquiring a shade of bright crimson skin to go with her spaded tail and curved horns, she let him experience his first orgasm as a woman as she rubbed against her vagina. Hitting her climax completed her hold over her newly acquired body. Not quite satisfied, the succubus began waddling towards the park exit. Whipping back her long black hair to rest against her dump truck of an ass, she tapped her fingers against her luscious breasts as she thought about the wealth of pent up libido she was about to unleash upon the world.

14 notes • Posted 2021-06-28 18:22:50 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

2 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Bully me for months? I'll hit you where it hurts the most, literally.

I want to preface this by saying I'm not proud of what I've done here. To the casual observer, what I did might seem like justice, but, really, I wish it didn't have to go as far as it did. I want my story to be a cautionary tale of what happens when bullying isn't taken seriously. I don't want this story to inspire you to do what I did, but as to what happens when people don't make the right choices the first time. Also, TL;DR at the bottom, the quotes aren't exact, and apologies if this seems a little all over the place. It's not easy for me to bring up stories like this, but I felt maybe I'd do some good by sharing it.

For as long as I can remember, I had a habit of bottling up my emotions. My single father is a staunch believer in traditional masculinity, including the idea that men and boys shouldn't cry. By my early to mid teens, I succumbed to this outdated idea, and accepted my fate as a quiet, stoic drone that just took orders, respected authority, and did hard work (especially manual labor.)

Enter my high school, which had a huge problem with bullying. The worst kids by far were the trashy "gangsta" kids (their words, not mine) from the inner city who targeted anybody they considered weaker than them. I was a pretty muscular 15 year old, but that didn't stop them from saying things like "Dude, you're so fat," or "Wassamatta, fattie? Lose your Twinkies on the way over?" In class, it was mostly petty annoyance: taking my pencil, sticking gum in my hair, insults. They got physical when the teachers weren't looking. Tripping me in the hall and pretending it was an accident; slamming my head against the locker, hitting me with footballs or soccer balls and saying a fake "whoops, sorry!" By themselves, it didn't seem that bad, but enough grains of sand add up to a huge pile, and, at that point, I was up to my waist in it.

Of course, the school didn't do anything about it. Teachers would either tell me "I'll take care of it," and then nothing ever changed, or I'd get something stupid like "I didn't see it. There's nothing I can do" or "You know, if I stopped class every time a kid was acting up, we'd never get anything done." Sure, and if a tree falls in the forest, it didn't make a sound because you didn't hear it. My father wasn't any help either. He'd tell me things like "there's gonna be people like that everywhere you go," or "if you're crying about this, you'll never make it in life," basically telling me to go suck it up because there are worse things out there. As a kid, I was hurt by this, but I was 15, so my self-esteem had been run over by a Combine a few times by now. For months, I just kept ignoring and waiting, hoping my teachers would keep their word about dealing with this problem. Sadly, it seemed they'd rather prioritize pep rallies and Career Aptitude Tests than do their job in keeping kids safe.

By around Spring, I'd had enough. By now, my sadness and annoyance had transmuted into boiling rage that I'd been keeping in me for far too long. If nobody was going to fight for me, I'd do it for myself, literally. I devoted the majority of my weekend to prepping for a showdown on Monday.

One of the few good things about my father is that how knowledgeable he is in self-defense. He believed it was important for a man to learn to fight, so he had me take several different kinds of martial art classes. If I was gonna fight a bully, I had to make it a proper fight. I then researched about Krav Maga, a branch of martial arts that's basically a military-style form of self defense, meant to train you how to fight if you were ever in danger "outside the arena." No rules, no balanced teams, no referees; just you and your need for survival. One of the components of Krav Maga is knowing the body's biggest "weak spots," ones that maximize the most amount of pain when hurt. Things like the groin, toes, and eyes were obvious, but you could also hit the knees, solar plexus, and even the spine. Since my classes didn't teach Krav Maga (you had to be 16 at the time,) I watched many online videos, making mental notes of the techniques used. It was almost always the same kid or group of kids that bullied me, so I already knew what they looked like, and, more importantly, where to strike.

On Monday, I waited for the next chance to come for the bullies to attack. To my surprise, they kept quiet for the most part. Maybe this was one of my lucky days where I'd actually get some work done. Then, while I was crunching for an exam during lunch, one of the bullies, a regular, spilled my water all over my textbook, and saying, "Whoops, sorry!" As he and his pals started walking away laughing, I got a good look at the back of the guy's neck. I raised my fist, aiming for the middle where I'd likely hit his spinal column.

WHAM! I knocked the guy over to the ground. That's when all Hell broke lose. His friends tried tackling me away, and I tried remembering to hit all their weak points: eyes, throat, groin, and jaw. It was fairly sloppy attempt at Krav Maga given my inexperience, and the other kids trying to fight back, but it got the effect I wanted. Of course, I didn't come out unscathed. I got punched in the jaw, a bloody nose, a bruise to the forehead, and more than a few kicks in the family jewels. The other kids noticed us fighting, with some going to get a teacher while others watched in a mix of shock and excitement. Eventually, the principal and a few other teachers pulled us apart, and sent us to the office, after our injuries were treated.

The principal talked with us individually while the assistant principal called all our parents. When it was my turn, I explained what happened. At some point, the principal said, "Why didn't you tell the teacher?" At that moment, I just snapped, somehow managing to sound even angrier than when I was fighting a few minutes ago. "I ALREADY TOLD THE DAMNED TEACHERS, LIKE A MILLION FUCKING TIMES, BUT NOBODY WAS DOING SHIT ABOUT IT! NOBODY! YOU TELL ME OVER AND OVER 'I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT, I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT,' BUT NOBODY EVER FUCKING DOES! I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT LIKE I HAD TO DO THIS OF SOMEBODY HERE ACTUALLY DID THEIR DAMNED JOB FOR ONCE!" I got an extra week of suspension for yelling.

Much to my surprise, my father was rather quiet about the whole thing. Normally, my father had the temperament of a dragon, but maybe this whole fight touched his inner "macho man" that made him go easier on me.

On the car ride home, he said calmly, but firmly, "What happened? And tell me the truth." I told him, "They wouldn't stop picking on me, so I defended myself." I waited to hear my father make some snide remark about hurt feelings, but he just said, "Were you in danger?" I paused for a moment, and said, "...Yes." I knew I was exaggerating, but maybe this could open my father's eyes to see how much I was hurting. He was quiet for a minute, and then said, "I can't judge on your situation 'cause I wasn't there, but it's in a boy's nature to be aggressive sometimes, and it sounds like those bullies were just using it for harm. I also know you well enough t'know you wouldn't lay a finger on somebody unless you felt like you had to." I nodded, holding back tears. "Next time you're ever in that kinda danger, call me. Don't wait for the teachers to fail you again. I'll give 'em Hell." I was stunned, and, once I realized what'd just happened, I smiled. That's one of the few redeeming qualities about my father. As toxic and narcissistic as he was, he was an expert on bringing vengeance to those who deserved it.

During my suspension, one of the bullies' parents wanted to press assault charges on me, but my father threatened to counter-sue the school AND the parents for letting the bullying go on for so long. Thankfully, nobody had to go to court as the bullies' credibility sank faster than the Titanic. Once word got around that I fought back to stop the bullying (rather than the strong, quiet guy going psycho,) more kids decided to come forward to the principal about their experience being bullied, too, and how they also went to the teachers for help. This included a few girls who were being sexually harassed by these kids. This was a PR nightmare for the school that left a permanent stain on their reputation among the locals. In the end, the bullies got expelled, some faced charges for sexual harassment, and I got transferred to a different high school. I guess I'm a little proud that I inspired some other troubled kids to come forward, but I really didn't like violence. I'm built for self-defense, but I don't like hurting anybody unless it's to protect those I love. I would've much preferred if teachers actually did their job, and "took care of it" before I had to.

I did get a gift certificate for summer classes in Krav Maga for my Sweet 16. Thankfully, I've never had to use it yet.

TL;DR: Bullies spend months torturing me, and teachers won't do anything, so I researched and imitated an advanced martial arts to bring maximum physical pain to my bullies.

(source) story by (/u/aitacrybaby)

#prorevenge #by /u/aitacrybaby #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

47 notes · View notes

maturemenoftvandfilms · 4 years

Text

The King Of Character Actors

CHAPTER SEVEN: Poker Night: Part One

Featuring Charles Durning, Ed Asner, Rod Steiger, George Segal and Norby Walters.

I was invited to a weekly game held at the Hollywood home of the former sports agent Norby Walters by Charles Durning after we became friends while filming Home for the Holidays in 1995. As he was explaining to me, "it’s a diverse group of every actor in Hollywood” for low-limit stud poker. The minimum bet is just $1 and some of the regulars might consist of Alec Baldwin, Robert Downey Jr., Angie Dickinson, Sid Caesar or Sharon Stone. They all played until 10:45 before spending the next 15 minutes telling Frank Sinatra stories with everything ending by 11:00 pm.

Each Wednesday night, the veteran music agent welcomed nine boldface names to his Wilshire corridor high rise for three hours of poker. But tonight, thanks to some last minute cancellations, only a total of five men besides Charlie and me sat around the table. The lure of poker was stronger for these guys. Football, baseball, boxing and the business were popular topics of conversation. I was introduced to each and was greeted with a strong handshake from each man. I sat down among the members and started to study those who were already studying me.

Starting with our host Norby Walters, a short, nerdy fellow with nary a thing to say. He sat sipping his drink and worrying about the time. He was barefoot and wearing slacks with a short-sleeved cabana shirt, the top buttons unfastened to reveal a scar from heart surgery.

Charles Durning (72) was the elder statesman of the group. Short with a roly-poly build, his chest seemed to strain the limits of his shirt buttons. When he speaks, his voice is that of a Marine drill sergeant - people listen and obey. Self-educated, he’s been working since he was in knee pants; what he knows, he learned the hard way. He was my sure bet of the night. The one I was going to have sex with.

To Charlie's right was actor, George Segal (61). He was in his early sixties, my guess, around maybe six foot with a strong, but receding hairline. His dark hair was almost transparent on top. He was wearing shorts and a tank top. Chest hairs poked enticingly out from the top of the sleeveless top.

Next, was actor, Rod Steiger (70). At seventy something, Steiger was a stocky, shaved-headed, bull-necked man with piercing eyes, a brooding presence, but funny as hell. He wore long pants, a black button up shirt and an old style roadster beret topping his bald head. He smiled as our eyes met, then returned to his conversation with the man to his right.

Last was Ed Asner (66). Beautiful features, great build and incredibly handsome. His chest hairs nearly exploded from the top of his shirt. His fur lined forearms stuck out of the rolled up sleeves like carpeted appendages of some nineteen fifties goon. As a young adult, no one turned me on more than this man. My first impression was that Ed was funny, nice and sort of a big lush. He had three drinks and got sort of loud, but not in a bad way, it was after all a party.

These were Charlie's poker pals. I’ll admit I was a little nervous playing against these guys. Each talked to the other while I darted in and out of their conversations. All except Ed. He was different. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew he was different. I lost the first few hands. Badly. But then my luck changed and I won every hand for the next hour.

“Read ‘em and weep boys, read and weep. I win again.” I said in a taunting voice.

“Keep it up kid. You’ll get yours.” Ed said.

“Come on Mr. Asner. None of you have won in an hour. Hell, I’ll suck your dick if you win just one of the next five hands. I’m so confident, if any of you win in the next five hands. I’ll suck all of your cocks.” I boasted.

“Ok boys, let’s keep it clean.” Norby said.

“No. He’s been running his mouth all night. OK you’re on. I win one of the next five hands and you’ll suck all of our cock.”

“Deal.” I readily answered.

It was my turn to deal again, I had learned a lot from other card players about hiding cards and dealing from the bottom of the deck. Norby, Ed, Rod and George were unaware that they were being set up. Mr. Durning however, was somewhat aware of my intentions since I was sucking his cock since Home for the Holidays wrapped up months ago. After shuffling the cards, I made sure Ed got the best hand.

“Aces and deuces. Full house. Can you beat that kid?” He said.

“No.” Was all I had to say.

"That didn’t take long, you lost on the first hand.”

“Then it looks like you have to suck everyone’s cock.”

“Come on guys, you’re not going through with that bet are you?” Norby questioned.

“Hey, the kid made the bet. It’s up to him if he is going to live up to it.”

“I never go back on a bet.” I said as I got up, found an empty bedroom and waited for my first client.

Our host, Norby wasted little time joining me in the bedroom, telling me that I didn't need to do this. I could tell that despite his outward chivalry, the bulge in the front of his pants signaled his true feelings. Seeing my determination, he allowed me to unclasp the top of his pants and unbuttoned his shirt. As I slipped the shorts down past his knees, his cock was peeking out of the front of his boxer shorts. I tugged on his boxers, slowly, teasing him before they finally passed his cock, springing out freely away from his body.

I excitedly leaned over to grasp his firm uncut cock. I love to peel the protective skin back with my tongue and lips, exposing the sensitive head. My actions were greeted with the usual response as Norby moaned audibly. Not wanting to remain standing, he sat down on the edge of the bed and then fell back, legs splayed apart for my easy access. I attacked his groin with the fervor of a long neglected lover. My cock was pressing against the edge of the bed in a vain attempt to attract some attention for itself.

Norby grasped the bed covers tightly as my head bobbed rapidly on his tool. Grunting and groaning, Norby writhed beneath my attack. His entire body seemed to tense and then with an upward thrust of his hips, he climaxed. Manly fluids flowed into my hungry mouth. As I squeezed the last of his cum from his cock, his whole body relaxed as his breathing started to slow and his eyes slowly opened.

"Thank you." Norby said as I slumped back into the small chair next to the bed and watched him get dressed before rejoining the card game.

I didn't have to wait long as I heard someone getting up from the table and heading down the hall. I thought it would be Charlie, but to my surprise, it was George. Without speaking, he opened his pants to reveal his cock. As if responding to his inaudible command, I leaned forward and took his tool offered and placed it in my mouth. It easily fit. The nicely cut cock quickly hardened between my lips.

As the turgor pressure reached the maximum within his five inch cock, I felt his hands firmly grasp my head. His hips began to rhythmically thrust in synchrony with my lips. As quickly as it started, it ended. I heard a couple grunts, tasted something slightly salty on my tongue and the next I knew, he was withdrawing his cock. I finally looked up at my guest face. He quietly mouthed 'Thank you' and then shuffled back to the table.

The others at the table said nothing and acted as if he was there all along. George picked up his cards and continued on playing as if nothing had occurred. It wasn't long before I heard someone politely excused himself from the table, ostensibly to use the john, I was soon confronted with Rod standing in front of me, unzipping his pants.

He unbuttoned his pants, pulled the waistband of his underwear down to allow his already half hard cock to flop out. Using both his hands to hold his pants and underwear, Rod thrust his hips forward causing his manhood to lightly tap my lips. I quickly opened my mouth to let his cock slide in. As his tool grew, I knew that unlike my last visitor, I'd have a problem accommodating this man's growing cock.

On a couple of occasions I had to limit his thrusts because I was nearly choking. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, allowing his shaft to slide in and out of my mouth through my moistened palm as Rod became more vocal. His grunts and my slurping noises were loud enough that everyone in the house could hear. It didn't matter to me and obviously didn't matter to Rod.

"Oh my God!" Rod said as he began to let loose.

As the first spurt hit my tongue, Rod grabbed his dick with his right hand and started to almost violently jack his cock. His knees slightly bent, the moans and grunts continued as he rapidly jacked the rest of his man fluid into my waiting mouth. I relaxed and allowed Rod to finish his release as his right hand switched from a rapid jacking motion to a careful milking motion. Each drop of his cum was carefully deposited upon my tongue.

As Rod's breathing slowly returned to normal, he slowly pulled his pants and underwear back up to their proper position. He smiled down at me as I exercised my stretched jaw muscles. Rod beamed with pride recognizing that it was his endowment that caused my minor discomfort. With a tip of his hat, Rod turned and moved back to the table. He sat quietly next to the other players. Picking up his hand of cards, he smiled as if he got dealt an inside straight.

George wasted little time joining me in the bedroom, standing proudly in front of me. The bulge in the front of his shorts signal his readiness as I unclasp the top of his shorts. As I slipped his shorts down past his knees, his cock sprang out from his body. I excitedly grasp his firm cock as he sat down on the edge of the bed and the fell back, legs splayed apart for easy access. I attacked his groin with the fervor of a long neglected lover. With active hands, tongue and lips I worked on his perfect pink tool. I was enjoying it almost as much as George. My cock was pressing against the edge of the bed in a vain attempt to attract some attention for itself.

George grasped the bed covers tightly as I worked. He move further up on the bed, finding ourselves in plain view of the other occupants in the other room. My head bobbed rapidly on his tool, as George grunted and groan, writhing beneath my attack.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the guys watching, especially Charlie. He watched over the top of this cards, not concerned about who was winning the current hand. Next to him, Ed tried not act nonchalant, but his intent gaze was not focused on the cards. Suddenly George tensed up and then with an upward thrust of his hips, he came. Manly fluids flowed into my hungry mouth.

As I squeezed the last of his energy from his cock, his whole body relaxed. Slumping back into the small chair next to the bed, I watched George slipped his shorts back on. Sipping on a glass of scotch he brought in, I watched as he rejoined the card game. I wondered who would be next. Ed or Charlie? It wasn't long before I got my answer.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

#Charles Durning #George Segal #Edward Asner #Ed Asner #Norby Walters #Rod Steiger #Poker Night pt 1 #durning fan fiction #asner fan fiction #fan fiction #The King Of Character Actors

50 notes · View notes

the-ic-corner · 4 years

Text

@incelhugochavez, this one is for you! and every other Šejan Šipper here. There’s chaos, there’s love, there’s lots of sexual innuendo’s. Oops!

Well, Dejan has to keep his promise. He told Josip and Elena he’d make them Christmas cookies, so now he has to try his hand at baking. As a kid, he would help his mother out in the kitchen. But only if it was too cold outside and the other kids didn’t want to play football. He’d try to make all types of shapes with the dough, but mostly just circles. Those were easiest and looked like footballs. He used to eat the dough too, and he never got sick, so that salmonella thing is probably fake news.

Today he’s standing in the kitchen of his Joel Hotel. The hotel is closed for the winter. The only ones in the entire building are him and Šime. Their families will arrive tomorrow. Hopefully by then they’ll be able to enjoy some homemade cookies.

On the table in front of them are all the ingredients they need. Now the only thing they’ll have to do is mix it up and knead it. Dejan grabs the bowl and tells Šime exactly what he needs.

“eggs”

> “how much?”

“four, and now butter”

> “how much?”

“250 gram, now flour”

> “how much?”

“400 gram”

> “and now sugar?”

“sugar”

> “that’s what I said”

“Oh thought you called me sugar”

> “how much sugar, sugar?”

“nema limita”

Šime dunks the entire bag of sugar in the bowl. Now the entire mixture is unbalanced. Dejan whines. It was supposed to be just 300 gram. Now he has to tell Šime to add more of the other stuff too. The bowl starts to overflow with ingredients as Šime adds more and more stuff to it. Dejan stops him, and just starts kneading the mixture. It’s a mess. It feels weird. He’s not used to putting his hands in stuff that feels like this. It won’t come together.

“Šime, you put too much flour in now. Look at this powdery mess” Dejan says, as he holds up his hands that are coated in a white mixture.

“Maybe it needs some milk” Šime concludes and opens the fridge.

With his back turned towards him, Dejan can’t resist to smack Šime’s ass. The contours of his hand remain visible in white powder on Šime’s dark jeans. Dejan chuckles. What a beautiful sight.

Šime closes the fridge and twists his body to see the damage.

“De-e-e-j” he exclaims.

“I only have one clean pair of pants left now” he continues.

“Well, do you have more clean shirts orrr….” Dejan asks with his hands out towards Šime’s black t-shirt.

Šime recoils. As Dejan moves forwards, Šime starts running.

They follow each other running around the kitchen, like cat and mouse. Dejan could swear he’s usually faster than Šime but the smaller man is much more nimble. Where Šime zooms past the tables and countertops so gracefully, Dejan runs straight into one of the corners. The pointy part hits him right in the groin.

“Aahhhooooooo” Dejan moans in pain.

“That’s what you get for trying to mess with me” Šime concludes, but his eyes are filled with worry.

Dejan takes a sharp breath. It really hurts.

“Did you really hurt yourself?” Šime asks tentatively.

“Yes, maybe you should kiss it to take the pain away” Dejan answers.

Šime scoffs.

“Get back to kneading” he tells Dejan.

Dejan does as he’s told and sticks his hands back in the dough.

“Can I get another egg, Šime?”

“Well, since you’re asking nicely.”

Šime breaks another egg on the edge of the bowl. A piece of shell ends up in the bowl.

“No, no, can you get that out?” Dejan asks with his hands still covered.

“Nah, it’s just a little extra crunch” Šime replies.

“My kids are gonna choke on that piece!” Dejan says.

“Ok, I don’t wanna be responsible for that” Šime says as he starts to fish out the piece of eggshell.

“I would only choke their daddy” Šime concludes.

Dejan blushes, but decides not to comment on that. He continues kneading and it looks like the dough is actually coming together. Šime starts dusting the tabletop with flour, so Dejan can roll out the dough. Dejan grabs the rolling pin and smacks Šime on the ass.

“Again?” Šime responds.

“Oh, no complaining, you like it” Dejan justifies.

They roll out the dough, prepare a baking tray, and start making shapes. Dejan makes circles and uses a knife to sculpt in some hexagons and pentagons for that football look. He’s very concentrated, his tongue sticking out between his lips.

Šime interrupts his process.

“Look, I made you!” he says proudly while he shows a little man figure to Dejan.

“Awhhh, but what’s that little protrusion right here?” Dejan asks

“It’s my favourite part of you” Šime answers.

“But why is it so small then!” Dejan exclaims.

“Well, we can’t have your kids thinking you’ve got a third leg” Šime says.

“They wouldn’t be wrong” Dejan mutters under his breath.

“Ok it’s going.” Šime concludes. “I’ll put it in my mouth” he says as he chews on the extra bit of dough.

Dejan looks up and smirks.

“Now I’m gonna make myself and three little mini’s” Šime continues.

Not much later, the baking tray is filled with footballs and five little cookie figures. Dejan sets the right temperature and Šime carefully puts the tray in the oven. Dejan cleans the worktop and goes to sit on top of it, watching Šime load the dishwasher.

“I hope they’ll taste good” Dejan says.

“At least they were made with love” Šime shrugs. He walks over to Dejan and goes to stand between his legs. Dejan smiles at him and gently cleans a little bit of flour off Šime’s face with his finger.

Šime’s hands move up on Dejan’s thighs.

“Does it still hurt here, Deki? Do you think a kiss will still fix it?”

#sejan #christmas fic nr 2 #my writing

12 notes · View notes

raytothejtotheg · 4 years

Text

I bought my first athletic cup as a transgender man-

Fantastic idea!!

Pros-

There is a great Wiki how to article to help you fit, although I will suggest that you go one size down with the manufacturer’s suggested sizes if you’re super tall or skinny (I’m 5ft8 and skinnier than shit). I bought a Mueller “hard” cup, typically used for full-contact sports like football and rugby. The great part about most of the brands now have sizing on the back of the package.

The specific reason I bought an athletic cup even though I haven’t had bottom surgery is that I went out rafting with some of the guys and I awkwardly noticed that one of the guys was wearing a cup and I asked him about it (we’re super close), and he said that he has an old one he drilled a couple extra holes in (to drain water) because he’s been hit really hard before while swimming and almost lost a testicle a few years ago, so now he always wears one. It gave me the idea that it’s a cheap, fairly safe way to pack without using a packer while swimming because most packers aren’t water safe and most STPs (Stand To Pee packers) make you look like you have a hardon when you get wet and it’s super embarrassing when people notice. I chose a cup a size smaller than suggested because I am super skinny and as I stated before, I don’t want to look like I have a hard on.

Cons-

You may have to try a couple out in the shower moving around to see if that particular cup will cause a lot of chaffing in the groin area.

If it shifts at the wrong angle and you fart, it sounds weird 🤣

#ftm #transgender #femaletomale #surgery #testosterone #phalloplasty #thisiswhattranslookslike #dysphoric #bottomdysphoria #hrt #athleticcup #packing #metoidioplasty #swimming

49 notes · View notes

mountainleafuniversity · 4 years

Text

Linneaus: Undertow Pt 1

Artwork by: @warrior-kitty

Special thanks to: @gemellath

This story is rated PG-13 for content. You have been warned.

It was a beautiful day for the citizens of Charluftton as the Wild Waves Festival was in full swing. The plaza was full of vendors selling t-shirts and frozen ice, the bar was full of all kinds of live music, including bands like Boil, The Lost Tapes and Art House, and even the beach was full of fun events such as volley ball, sailing, and even a beach 5k obstacle course. Boaters were out fishing and tubing and just all around having a good time. However, for the shapeshifting vixen, she was lying home in bed wearing her work cap, a buttoned jacket and khaki work pants. On her nametag was the name “Kit Rouge”. She was a shy fox who was diagnosed with a disorder that caused her to have trouble controlling her shapeshifting powers, and today, due to the events that occurred at work, was no exception.

“All I did was get grossed out…” she muttered. “Yet of course I turned into a fox bug like I always do when I’m disgusted. And of course, everyone thinks I’m too old for this to happen. I can’t control it…”

Kit had a busy day at work with lots of fishermen and families out buying things from pool toys to bait and couldn’t even stop the lines from the shoppers just itching to get their stuff and hit the water. She swore if she saw another sailor she would transform into her angry form and chuck them off their boat.

Her cellphone rang, and Kit answered.

“Hey Vixie!” Coin started, wearing sunglasses. “Work was rough today wasn’t it?!”

“Oh! Hello Coin! It was rough! Like the time that giraffe all jacked up on cocaine went up to you and-“

“Didn’t you remember our plans for today?!” he interrupted.

“What plans?” the khaki-clad kitsune asked.

“To go tubing with us!” Rio said.

“But I thought we were going to go to the beach!” Kit cried. “I want to lie down, get a sun tan and eat all the cannolis I can think off!”

“The beach is tomorrow and the next day!” Coin replied.

“Just get changed, pack some sandwiches and don’t forget the tube! See you in a half an hour.”

With that they hung up.

Kit thought about it for a second and decided to just go embark with her friends on the boat.

The young vixen put on a yellow one-piece swimsuit and covered it with a Zelda t-shirt and her khaki shorts from her work uniform. She then put on her special waterproof contacts, so she doesn’t turn her friends into her clones again. Finally, she made her friends sandwiches to eat on the boat while they hung out. Kit opened the garage to find Coin’s boat tube and sighed, knowing that none of their days out ever go well.

When she arrived, she saw her jackelope friend in his salmon trunks, purple t-shirt and sunglasses, with Rio harvest mouse perched on top of his antlers. She was in a little sailor’s outfit with a cap.

“First mate Rio! Ready to embark!” she said with glee.

“Hey Kitty!” Coin blurted. “Just put the tube in the back, were going to go fishing for a little while.”

“I thought you had a fear of fish.” Kit replied.

“My dad wants us to get fish for the Braun’s fish recipe!”

“You hate the taste of fish as well!”

“I’m getting paid if I do this.”

“Fair.”

And with that, they entered the boat.

Kit untied the ropes from the hooks, while Rio and Coin brought the buoys into the boat.

“Hey um Kit…” Rio said. “I think you might want to put your sunhat in the cabinet, so you don’t lose it.

“Oh, I’m fine.” Kit said without concern. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

As Coin and First Mate Rio pushed it to thirty miles an hour, Kit began to scream as her body grew more multicolored fur, whiskers grew, and her body became feline. The scared cat held onto her hat as hard as she could while the boat tore through the river.

“I retract my previous statement!” screamed Kit. “This is way too fast! My hat’s gonna fly away if you’re not careful!”

“Too fast?” replied Coin, seemingly unaffected by the rip-roaring speeds they were currently travelling at.

“No way! Calm down, will you? If you didn’t want your hat to get blown off, you should’ve at least stored it in the compartment.”

Begrudgingly, he and Rio slowed to boat down so that Kit could hand the hat over to Rio.

“Honestly,” she said, “We should’ve insisted on it in the first place.”

As they continued to sail, the trio began to develop an appreciation for the architecture of the waterside houses. Rio would wonder aloud who lives there, or there, or there? Enough time had passed for Kit to have calmed down; one tug of her tail later, and she was back in her fox form.

“Right then,” she said, retrieving her hat at last, “What are we up to first?”

“Sandbar, of course!” replied Rio as the boat sailed towards the spot where the ocean embraced the shore.

The little stretch of sand was surprisingly full of people sunbathing, dipping their toes in the water; anything to make the most of the fresh heat.

“Oh, nice! We can all have a game of keepie-uppie!”

Kit casted her line out towards the water and waited. Soon enough she had something on her line, reeling it in as hard as she could to discover she had caught a gar.

“Nice!” she said, pleased with herself.

“Hey, look guys I caught this cool long-billed thing!”

The crowd looked over, but only saw the fish worth jack squat and laughed.

Kit became slimier and turned grey, with white hair growing until she was now her sad form, the fox slug Granny.

“Dang nabbit!” she muttered to herself before casting the line once again…only to this time catch a sea bass…

“Did you bring the football?” Rio asked.

“Sure did!” Coin said, holding the old pigskin.

“I said the football!” Rio growled.

“This is a football!” Coin responded, perplexed.

Soon an argument erupted between the two of them, until they decided to just toss the ball around. The jackelope through a spiral throw towards Rio, who then responded by nailing her personal perch in the chest. Coin got up, picked the football off of the bar and tossed it again. After a while, he was getting nailed in the face, chest, and even in the groin by the sailor mouse’s throws. He called for a time out to see Granny still trying to catch fish.

“Hey bud.” She said. “Could you give my tail a pull?”

Coin turned her back into Kit.

“Thanks”

“So what’s going on here?” Coin asked.

“I”ve been catching nothing but sea bass and gar…”

Coin looked at her in disbelief.

“Kit there aren’t any sea bass in here…you mean sea trout.”

Kit blushed a little.

“It’s alright, you caught like five of them already!”

So, they waited and caught a decent amount of fish to put in the cooler.

After sunbathing for a bit, the Trio decided it was time to go tubing. They packed up their chairs, their belongings and the fish, which were placed in a water tank on the back of the boat.

“Alright guys!” Rio shouted with excitement. “Time for tubing!”

Coin took off his shirt and glasses, leaving him with only his trunks, while Kit dressed down to her swimsuit. Both of them then put on life jackets and hopped onto the tube.

“Um…” Kit said, somewhat nervous. “I’m not sure I want to do this…”

“Oh we’ll be fine. I’ve gone tubing dozens of times.”

“Get ready you guys!” First Mate Rio shouted as she pushed on the gas. She pulled it forward and the two cryptid creatures were yanked screaming. They narrowly missed other boats and shores, but soon the wild mouse got carried away. At a wedding reception between two mice on a dock, the two burst through and destroyed the dock the mice were on, leaving Coin with a face full of tiny wedding cake, and Kit with the groom in her mouth. Next, the two of them flew over another boat’s wake, which was sunk as soon as the tube landed on it. Finally, they neared an exclusive gated community residence, and ended up going through the yards of the tenants. Statues, trees, and rocks pelted them with pure bruises and scratches. At one point, they broke in through a beaver business man’s house and destroyed his kitchen, his teenage daughter’s bedroom, and his priceless wine cellar.

After breaking out of the last wall, a ramp was seen straight ahead for the duo, and with the ramp, Kit flew off of the tube and belly flopped into the water. Coin, luckily, stayed on, but ended up getting dragged through marsh grasses and oyster beds. He was all chopped up, so when Rio stopped, Coin fell into a million pieces. He healed himself, as always when he got this injured, and pulled into the boat.

“Hang on, where’s Kit?” the crazy driver asked.

From a groan they heard, the two saw her bobbing in the water. Coin spun it back around to collect Kit, who wasn’t very amused about the whole situation once she climbed back on board.

She was trying her best not to snap at Rio, as the jackelope got her a towel to wipe off the water.

Rio than then tried to fire up the engine but called Coin over. After a brief and worried discussion, the rabbit sheepishly confronted his fox friend.

“Umm…Kit….”

“What is it?” she snapped with her eyes already glowing.

“The boat…it’s out of gas…”

Suddenly Kit screamed as she transformed into DemKit, with his voice deepening into a roar. He picked up the cowering and flailing jackelope and chucked him off the boat. Then moved on towards Rio and held her up, shaking her around.

“WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO NOW FIRST MATE RIO?!?!” he roared.

“Calm Down!” Rio said. “Coin can just call the boat tow.”

DemKit dropped Rio and blushed a little embarrassed.

“Sorry Coin!” he yelled out.

“Try to grab the tube.”

Coin swam towards the tube, failing to notice the fin behind him. He climbed onto it, but as he was being pulled in by the fox monster, a shark leapt from behind him and bit down on his swim trunks, ripping them and pulling them into the water. His two friends screamed with DemKit frantically pulling on the rope harder, but it was fruitless as he pulled it in to find the shark had cut it in half. Coin, meanwhile, had a censor bar over his special area and watched as whale watchers and fishermen boated by laughing. The shark returned and pulled the censor off of him, causing DemKit and Rio to blush and look away.

“How can this get any worse?” the mouse said to herself.

“There they are!” an angry woman said, with a crowd of people on a police boat. The officer looked to see a sailor mouse next to a steering wheel, some fox monster, and a naked jackelope behind them.

“Oh crap.” DemKit said to himself, embarrassed.

Later on, Kit, now back as her normal self, and Coin were eating the fish they’d caught in the estuary with their families at Coin’s house.

“I’m glad they found out I was just transformed.” She said. “And they found the shark with Coin’s compressions lodged in its throat at the hospital. He said he needed clothes to deliver to someone.”

“Who?” Gunda asked

“We don’t know yet, but because he pulled my censored bar away he now has to register as a sex offender.”

“As for Rio?” Kit’s father asked.

“Well because she was recklessly driving to the point of bodily harm and property damage, and we didn’t do anything wrong, she has to spend the Festival in jail.” Kit replied.

“It’s a good thing you guys called to get the trout out.” Jonas said. “Proud of you son!”

“Thanks dad! How was the nautical golf tournament?”

“Well, we placed second.” He declared to Margaret. “We have to go to the plaza tomorrow. You are performing tomorrow night correct?”

“Yea, I’m meeting Harry and Roxie at work tomorrow, and D’Arcy is setting up her clothing tent at the beach market.”

“Apparently someone sent a threat to her earlier this afternoon.” Kit’s brother told them. “They’re investigating who sent it.”

“Well, it’s probably nothing we should worry about, but we should tell D’Arcy once we get to the beach.”

Meanwhile the salmon trunks sank into a cave where a sea serpent sat waiting and grabbed it.

“Nice…” she said. “A sample of clothing from one of that jersey devil’s friends.” She smiled with glee. “He could be useful to me… in finally bringing her down…” she laughed as her factory workers continued to work…

#story #writing #cryptids #cryptid #original writing #comedy #art

4 notes · View notes

zilbea · 5 years

Text

Some FAHC freewood headcanons I promised! (kinda long)

Gavin has a back thing - it’s inconvenient, really. He’ll arch away from the touch of the occasional Fake accidentally brushing his back in passing. It throws him for loops, sending shivers shooting both up his spine and to his groin. Some might say it’s why he’s always fronting on people - exuding such arrogance and nosiness; no one can get extort his hypersensitivity if he faces them - no one can make him look vulnerable. No one except Ryan, who caresses Gavin’s back with strong warm hands after a long day of heisting. No one except Ryan can make The Golden Boy melt under their touch, and as Ryan pulls Gavin into a kiss, trailing his fingers up and down that tanned back, he’s the only one Gavin leans towards.

Gavin brings a kitten into the penthouse one day. Most of the Fakes don’t much care for it, but it brings The Golden Boy absolute joy. Gavin stumbles into the penthouse late one night, bruised and exhausted from a side job. The main room appears empty and Gavin blindly flops onto a couch, begging for sleep to swallow him. It almost does, until Gavin hears a low voice mumbling from the other couch. Opening his eyes, Gavin sees The Vagabond, still in heist face paint, cradling the small dark tabby. The kitten looks comically minuscule in Ryan’s large arms, and Gavin can’t help but smile. The tabby lets out a small mewl and kneads at Ryan’s belly. Ryan scratches the kitten’s head, chuckling softly. “Gavin,” he says, not looking up, “You’ve got some competition for my affections”

Ryan knows he’s scary. He knows The Vagabond is notorious around Los Santos, and he does little to downplay this fact. During missions, Ryan rarely checks his rage, letting it boil over and unfurl with vicious ferocity onto victims. Even so, Ryan thinks, as he watches the Golden Boy calmly snap the neck of a traitor of the Fakes, that Gavin Free should be the talk of terror. He carries out jobs with such silent offhanded energy and always manages to keep his clothes unmarred. Ryan won’t ever tell Gavin, but he looks up to The Golden Boy. Clean, calm, casual, and horribly cute. Ryan’s brain drops to his lap when Gavin winks at him - the dead traitor’s head between two pristine hands.

The Fakes know to give Ryan his space after big heists or dangerous jobs. They’ve seen the hostility that still burns in his eyes as he stalks around the penthouse, having killed and tortured just hours before. Ryan knows his limits, and for fear of lashing out at the crew, he often locks himself in his room to regain a sense of normalcy. None of the crew questions it, not necessarily willing to find out how the Vagabond de-stresses. One night, after a risky heist, Gavin realizes that Ryan’s door is cracked. He leans in close to the door and ragged shuddering breaths echo forth. Gavin peers through the crack - drawing lewd conclusions - but to his surprise, he finds the Vagabond hunched over on his bed, head in his hands. Gavin slips through the door against his better judgment, settling on the bed next to Ryan. Gavin puts an arm around Ryan’s shaking shoulders, and Ryan draws a slow, tense breath. He stares up at The Golden Boy with anguish in his eyes, face paint melted and smeared by tears. Gavin just gives Ryan a gentle nod, rubbing circles into The Vagabond’s shoulders until shaky breaths become measured once more.

(I could go on and on about this one alone)

During heists, Gavin likes to switch to a separate intercom channel as he hacks from a distance. He taps into Ryan’s mic and listens to the sounds of Ryan’s carnage, offering unwelcome commentary directly into Ryan’s earpiece. Gavin hears Ryan grunting in a fistfight struggle and puts on his best pout. “Ryan, I thought those noises were only for me, Ryan!” Ryan grits his teeth and knocks his victim unconscious. Later, fingers flying across the keys, Gavin hears Ryan snarl, “Be good for me, and I won’t have to do this,” followed by a strangled scream. Gavin grins, saying “Not the first time I’ve heard that one.” Ryan, covered in blood that isn’t his, closes his eyes and sighs in irritation as Gavin loudly reminisces Ryan tying him to the bed. Gavin hears Michael and Geoff’s voices through Ryan’s mic; he types a line of code on screen and says, “Ryan, a million dollars, but every time you roll your eyes, a very small bald man hits your bum with a sexy paddle.” Ryan growls a shut up into his mic, and Gavin just grins when he hears Michael ask who the hell Ryan’s talking to. During the heist’s climax Gavin is left with little to do but monitor the crew - so of course he talks Ryan’s ear off. He asks Ryan if he’s a psychopath, when’s the last time he got off, why he didn’t water the plants, if he wanted to get a dog, how it feels to be buried deep inside Gavin - Ryan cuts him off with another growl into the mic; “If you don’t shut your smarmy fucking mouth right this minute I’m going to come back there and give you a reason to not talk for days.” Gavin quirks an eyebrow at this, languidly kicking his feet up onto the desk. “Ryan,” he says innocently, “If you want to fuck my mouth all you have to do is ask!” Ryan’s eye twitches.

Ryan really loves to dance. It’s a fact he never planned on sharing with the Fakes, but sometimes, after most of the crew have gone to bed, he’ll pull Gavin close - swaying to easy jazz music and the wail of sirens far below. With a smile, he spins the Golden Boy into a twirl, dipping him into a kiss as sax and sirens crescendo.

Ryan isn’t known for his sense of danger during heists, and he and Jeremy are notorious for escaping bruised, bloodied, and battered. Ryan hates showing weakness and often refuses to seek treatment for his wounds. Because of this, Gavin corners Ryan on the couch one night, first aid supplies in his arms. Ryan frowns at the greeting, opening his mouth to protest, but Gavin just kisses him quiet. Gavin sinks to his knees between Ryan’s legs, gingerly grabbing the larger man’s bloody hands in his. Begrudgingly, Ryan holds still as Gavin cleans his knuckles. Gavin’s eyes flick to Ryan’s as he smears ointment across the cuts, content to see the spark of agony fade from those icy blue eyes. Gavin kisses Ryan’s fingertips slowly and Ryan bites his lip. He gazes at Gavin kneeling between his legs, bandaging his wounds with a tenderness Ryan had never yet seen, and maybe, just maybe, The Vagabond is falling in love.

Ryan was a football star back before he turned to a life of crime and glory and sometimes when provoked, a little bit of his old offensive side creeps through. Gavin gets in rowdy moods sometimes, assaulting Michael or Jeremy with a surprise tackle in the penthouse’s main room, or running headlong into a mutual shove. Ryan usually stands by as the shenanigans unfold, shaking his head and laughing, but when Gavin runs at him, he’s prepared. He catches the Brit in strong arms, hoisting the squealing man onto a shoulder. Michael and Jeremy collapse into a fit of laughter as Ryan parades Gavin around. Gavin flails and squawks in Ryan’s grasp, putting up a monumental fuss, but really, he loves the attention.

During a heist getaway, there’s not enough seats in the small van to securely hold the whole crew. Geoff drives with Jack shotgun (literally). Trevor sits on Alfredo’s lap, Michael sprawls across Jeremy, and Gavin is seated on Ryan. The crew is in high spirits; blaring music and overlapping chatter recalling their best moments almost drowns out the police sirens. It’s a bumpy chase and Gavin is a malicious tease, accentuating each jostling pothole with an extra movement of his hips. The van rattles over a grassy hill and Gavin grinds his ass against Ryan’s lap. Ryan’s face is flushed and he just hopes the Fakes are too caught up in their conversations to notice. He places his hands on Gavin’s waist to settle the Brit’s squirming and leans forward, lips brushing Gavin’s ear. “Don’t do this here, Gavin, please.” His voice is low and he’s not sure if he really means his words. Gavin just cranes his head around, staring slyly at the Vagabond. He reaches backwards and grabs Ryan’s neck, moving his hips hard into Ryan’s lap as Geoff yanks the van off-road. His lips brush the larger man’s, speaking softly. “What’s wrong, lovely Ryan?”

#freewood #slight warning for lewdness sorta #fake ah crew #fahc #zilbea's writing #hooo boy why can't i just write short things #i love words and being wordy #anyway hope you enjoy these! i have thousands more but this is already a long post lol #im also more of a not-fluff freewood typa gal buttttttt some situations require exception

231 notes · View notes

naorisososo · 4 years

Text

Night Driving

Headlights flashed by every few minutes, as cars passed on my left side. The road was narrow, desperately clinging to the side of a rocky mountain face, and there was only a weak guardrail separating them from falling to their doom.

The thought popped into my head every time. I couldn’t help it. But I knew better. Plus, I convinced myself some time ago that I wasn’t the only one with dark thoughts like this. It’s what made me normal. Relatable, almost.

The map that sat on the dashboard flapped like the wings of a bird wishing to fly, but it was tucked away where it would remain flightless. The folded pages of the map were my guide to an escape. A relief from reality. There was a location in the middle of the national park I was driving to that was circled with thick, red ink. The smell made me lightheaded for a moment, but I reluctantly put the cap back on. Again, relatable thoughts.

The shapes of the clouds above had slowly melted away into nothingness, as the sun set behind the tall wall of pine trees that bordered the long, winding road I drove upon. It was almost pretty - the way the oranges melted into a raspberry purple hue, finally giving way into the dark midnight tone, as sparkles of stars twinkled above.

A splatter hit the windshield, as a bug met its end. I frowned, taking a moment to roll up my window before turning on the windshield wipers, hoping the fluid would remove its dead carcass from my view. A few dozen wipes would suffice before rolling down the windows again, letting the fresh air fill the cabin of the car. Why do we call it fresh air? This is the same air that the dinosaurs used to fart in, right?

The car in front of mine must be slowing down because their brake lights painted my hands and the passenger seat beside me red with caution. Don’t slow down. Go faster. No one would miss you if you just happened to crash into the car in front of you. Maybe that’s a bit too harsh. Oh well.

I slowed myself behind them, resting my hand against the cold frame of the window, tapping my fingers to some unknown beat. I couldn’t see anything else in front of that car since we were on a curve, but I was surprised there was any reason at all to slow down. It’s not like there would be traffic. At least, not where I was heading.

They opened their door, as their hazard lights clicked on. I watched as they scratched their head, slamming their door shut, and shouting at their useless car. I adjusted the angle of my rear-view mirror, checking to see there was no other car behind. I must have pushed too hard, as the mirror snapped off of its holder. I sighed, looking down at the cheap feature. Must be what I get for purchasing the first car I came across. I tossed it in the back seat, listening to the soft thud and bounce of it hitting the leather seat then coming to rest on the floor.

A few more minutes passed, as two cars slowly passed us by, staring curiously at the man who stood in front of his car, bent over, pretending to know what he was looking at as he fumbled with the guts of his car. One car was overly cautious, giving the man and his car plenty of room, almost rubbing up against the guardrail before centering their car back on the road. I tapped my fingernails against the dashboard, leaning my cheek impatiently on my other fist. I had places to be. Well, places to get lost in, would be more accurate. Couldn’t he have picked a better time to have his car breakdown?

I honked.

The man quickly shot up, hitting the underside of his hood. He peeked his head out from behind, glaring at me, as I flashed my brights to further annoy him.

“Go around then, smart ass!” he shouted, flipping the bird at me.

What a brilliant idea.

I shifted into reverse, being sure to give Mr. Repairman plenty of space, before slowly driving into the other lane of traffic. I smiled, flashing pearly whites in his direction, as I drove past. Neither of us saw what was coming.

The loud music echoed along the rocky surface, as a group of teenagers sang along to whatever song was popular on the radio at the time. They had just come back from skinny dipping in the lakes of the great national park that was just a few miles up the road. Their breaths stank with alcohol, as the high school quarterback sat in the driver’s seat while his girlfriend sat beside him, being egged on by their classmates in the backseat to give him a blowjob while he drove.

“I’ll do it if you do it!” her best friend teased from the backseat, as she looked over her own boyfriend, kissing him playfully on the cheek.

“You hear that, buddy! We’re about to get lucky!” his teammate said, roughly patting the driver’s shoulder, as he slid his hand down his girlfriend’s backside, feeling the curve of her ass in his grasp, giving it a tight squeeze that caused her to giggle with glee.

The girlfriend in the passenger seat chewed softly on the tip of her thumb, as she looked at her curly haired football boyfriend who just looked so delicious earlier that afternoon in the water.

Of course they made out and did other stuff, but a blowjob while driving? How exhilarating!

“Come on, baby, don’t be shy,” the driver offered, taking one hand off of the steering wheel to rub her left thigh. His fingers only inches away from something that grew wetter by the minute.

“Oh, alright...but this doesn’t leave the group! Promise?!” she huffed, looking at the duo in the backseat before giggling softly. “You must want me really bad, huh, babe?” she asked, leaning over the center console, and admiring the bulge she could see underneath his colorful chino shorts.

She placed her hand on top of the bulge, applying friction to excite him before undoing his waistband, and sliding him inside of her mouth.

He bit his lip, rolling his eyes back, only closing his eyes for a moment before coming around the curve to see my car driving around the parked car.

He cursed, quickly slamming on the breaks and swerving to avoid me, only to slam into the parked car instead.

The screech pierced my eardrums, as I swerved to the left to avoid their car that seemingly came out of nowhere, and off I went - through the guardrail and over the edge of the road.

The quarterback slowly lifted his head from the steering wheel, seeing his own blood dripping off of it. The windshield was completely shattered from the collision, and it took him a moment to see past the cracks of glass to notice the man pinned between the cars.

“Fuck! No, no, no…” he began to mutter to himself, as he tried to lift himself up out of the car, only to feel the weight of something in his lap.

He looked down to see a bloody mess.

His girlfriend’s face had tears streaming down her cheeks, with her lips pressed against the base of his cock. Her mangled neck looked heinous in the moonlight, as he now began to feel the pain radiate from his groin. Blood soaked through his shorts and into the leather car seat, as he pushed her off of him, only to realize his dick was still inside her messy muzzle.

He screamed with agony, as the initial shock dissipated, allowing the pain to fully greet him.

I fell.

Well, tumbled would be more accurate. It all happened so quickly that when I woke up, I had to remember what occurred just moments ago.

The coffee that had kept me warm during my drive was now in puddles on the ceiling of the car. What a hell of stain.

So much for those godforsaken guardrails. They didn’t really guard anyone, did they?

I couldn’t feel anything below my waist, and the glass shards in my arms weren’t probably great for my health either. I didn’t bother pulling any of them out. There was enough blood all over me anyway. But I did spot a hole that I could try and pull myself out of. Emphasis on try.

I was way heavier than I remembered, as I slowly dragged myself up through the hole with my forearms, feeling the shards of glass dig deeper into my skin. It felt like my hands had fallen asleep and I felt millions of little pins and needles, but they weren’t pins and needles. No, it was glass.

Mr. Repairman was smart enough to put on his emergency brakes just in case his car decided to roll away from him. This maintained the traction his car had, as the highschoolers swerved, slamming him from behind, into the grill of his car.

He laid across the engine, whispering something about fixing his car, as his head just nodded repetitively - as if stuck in a loop. As the last bits of breath escaped his lips, bubbles of blood popped, splattering across the warm, dusty plastic of the battery.

The map got its wish. It flew alright. Flapping during the free-fall, the burst of wind picking it up and carrying it out of the opposite window into the cold night air. Gravity soon took its toll, pushing it down towards the carnage below, intermittently hitting a branch before ultimately landing just a few feet away from the wreck.

I couldn’t pull myself any farther. I just laid there, torso sticking out of the crumbled car, cursing my broken and twisted legs for betraying me too early. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

I was going to smile and strike up a conversation about the weather with the clerk at the entrance booth of the national park. I was going to ask about the best place to park, only to take a wrong turn and veer off onto a dirt road. I was going to leave the keys in the seat of my car, and wander off into the woods.

Someone would maybe discover my body a few days later, as they hiked through, seeing my bright red shoes sticking out of the leafy debris that lay scattered across the forest floor. There was to be a mysterious fog surrounding them, adding more mystery to my death. But no.

Now I’m destined to die confined by this wretched car that was to be my last purchase. The headlights hummed softly, stretching their beams out past the trunks that surrounded me, almost pitying me before dimming to their own death.

Fuck. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This is unfamiliar. This is unplanned. How unsophisticated. Now the only thing left of me will be the skid marks I left upon the road several stories above me.

What a shame.

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

This post was inspired by this writing prompt I found!

#thanks for reading #i hope you liked it #writing prompt #writing prompts #daily writing prompt #first post #dark #gore #romance #fiction #please feel free to let me know what you think in my asks!#nervous #writeblr #writeblr community

4 notes · View notes