#wanted to make his face like. less. perfect? as in he has a crooked nose and not perfect skin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaizzz · 14 days ago

Text

Part ll

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Part l Part ll Part lll

Title: The Bloom Beneath The Silence

—

It starts after a long training run.

You’re helping Tuffnut wrangle Barf and Belch back into their stall. The sun’s setting, your braid’s a mess, and your arms ache in a good way.

You’re laughing — really laughing — as Tuffnut nearly faceplants in a pile of wet straw. Again.

“That’s the third time this week,” you snort, tossing a brush his way.

“Gravity has a crush on me,” he says, puffing out his chest. “Can’t keep her hands off.”

You roll your eyes and keep brushing. Just another moment of chaos, laughter, ease.

You think you’ve hidden it well.

Until he speaks.

Quiet. Calm.

Too calm for Tuffnut.

“Y’know, your laugh sounds different when we’re alone.”

You freeze. Just for a second.

Then smirk over your shoulder. “What, you writing poetry now?”

“Pshh. Please. Poetry’s for people with fewer issues.”

He tosses straw at your face. You dodge it.

But he doesn’t drop it.

“I’m not asking what’s wrong,” he adds after a pause. “But I’ve seen you go quiet when no one’s looking. And you hold your chest when you think no one notices.”

You say nothing.

“And don’t give me that ‘forge dust’ crap again. It’s not forge dust if it happens in the middle of the woods.”

You slowly look up from your brush.

And he’s just standing there — no jokes, no dramatic poses. Just Tuffnut. Tall, crooked, a little too observant for someone who once tried to marry a rock.

“I’m not asking,” he says again, gentler this time.

“But if something is wrong�� I got you, okay?”

You stare at him.

You could lie. Laugh. Say something sarcastic.

Instead, you just say:

“…Okay.”

And he nods. Like that’s enough.

For now.

⸻

Later that night, you press a cloth to your nose again.

You don’t cry.

But it’s the first time someone’s seen you in weeks.

Even if they don’t know what they’re seeing.

—-

You’re sitting on the edge of the docks, boots dangling just above the water, sharpening a blade you haven’t had reason to use in days.

It’s peaceful here.

Until Astrid drops down beside you, relaxed in a way few people ever get to see her.

You don’t mind the company. She’s quiet at first, like you are.

The waves lap. The whetstone scrapes.

And then, casually, like it’s nothing, she says:

“So… Snotlout and Minden, huh?”

Your hand stills. Just briefly.

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. “What about them?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. Just seems like it’s becoming a thing.”

You force your hand to keep moving, the soft scrape of metal against stone covering the silence between her words and your thoughts.

“I mean, he’s different around her,” she adds. “Less performative. It’s kind of… nice.”

You nod. Just once. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Because it does.

Minden is calm. Kind. She listens. She fits.

Astrid doesn’t see the way your grip tightens. The way your jaw clenches before you breathe out through your nose and keep sharpening.

“You okay?” she asks suddenly, glancing at you.

You smile, easy. Perfect.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She doesn’t push.

No one ever does.

⸻

Later, you pass by the stables.

You don’t mean to stop.

But there they are.

Snotlout and Minden,

She’s laughing. He’s close. Too close. Not quite touching, but it’s the kind of space two people leave when they want to be touching.

She leans in. He doesn’t pull away.

You don’t hear what they’re saying.

You don’t need to.

⸻

You keep walking.

You go straight to the forge. You don’t work. You don’t build. You just sit on the bench in the far corner, back to the wall, arms around your knees.

Your chest feels like something heavy’s sitting on it.

Not enough to break you.

Just enough to keep you from breathing deeply.

—

You’re sitting outside the forge, staring at the ocean.

Not doing anything. Not fixing. Not working. Just… being.

It’s late. Everyone else is either asleep or pretending to be. The night air is cool, salt-wet, and soft against your skin.

You don’t hear Tuffnut approach.

But then he’s there. Dropping down beside you without a word, plopping a small, half-burnt muffin in your lap.

“Peace offering,” he says. “For no reason.”

You raise a brow. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “But you look like the kind of person who needs a muffin anyway.”

You don’t argue.

You don’t eat it either.

You just let it sit there between you, warm against your leg.

⸻

He doesn’t speak again for a while. He just hums something tuneless, rocking back and forth with his knees pulled to his chest.

Eventually, he says, quiet:

“Still not asking.”

You nod.

“Still not ready to tell you.”

He shrugs like it doesn’t hurt. “Cool.”

A beat passes.

Then—

“…But I’ve been getting nosebleeds.”

Your voice barely breaks the silence.

It’s so quiet afterward you almost pretend you didn’t say it.

But he turns to you, eyes a little wider, softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“That why you’ve been skipping lunch?”

You shrug.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t tell anyone.

He just… stays.

⸻

You lean your head against the wooden post behind you, eyes closed, voice small:

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then I won’t.”

A pause.

“But if you do?”

You glance sideways.

He’s looking out at the water.

Not at you.

Not making it harder.

Just there.

“I’ll still be here.”

⸻

You don’t say thank you.

You don’t cry.

You just let the silence stretch.

For once, it feels safe.

—

It’s sparring day.

The sun’s out, the sand’s dry, and the Edge is alive with motion — swords clashing, dragons roaring overhead, voices barking orders and laughter from every direction.

You’re paired with Astrid. Fast. Ruthless. She doesn’t hold back.

That’s why you picked her.

You need the distraction.

And you keep up. Mostly.

Until halfway through the match, you misstep. A spin too fast, a parry too high. You recover — barely.

But then it hits you.

A hot pulse in your face.

A familiar sting in your sinuses.

You pause, eyes narrowing, head swimming. You blink, steady yourself—

—and that’s when Astrid knocks your blade from your hands.

“(Y/N), you okay?”

You step back. Nodding quickly. Too quickly.

“Fine. Just—distracted.”

She frowns, studying you. But lets it go.

You bend to pick up your sword.

And a droplet of blood hits the sand.

Bright. Red. Stark against the pale grit.

⸻

You wipe your nose with your sleeve like it’s nothing.

Like you’re fine.

But someone sees.

“Hey—whoa, you’re bleeding.”

Tuffnut. His voice is closer than you expected. He’s halfway across the ring before you can even respond.

You press your sleeve tighter to your nose. Shake your head.

“It’s nothing. Just dry air. I’m fine.”

But your hand trembles.

And that’s when you realize: Snotlout’s watching.

He’s standing off to the side with Minden, half a laugh caught on his face like it got stuck in his throat.

You meet his eyes for a second.

And you see it.

The hesitation.

The concern.

The confusion.

He takes a step forward.

But Tuffnut is already there — hand at your back, steady, quiet.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You don’t protest.

You don’t even look back.

And Snotlout?

He doesn’t follow.

—

Snotlout POV

He stop thinking about the blood.

It wasn’t a lot. Barely a smear across your sleeve. But it wasn’t normal. And the way you brushed it off, like it was nothing — that’s what unsettles him most.

Because you don’t just brush things off. Not when it’s real. Not when it matters.

And yet, you didn’t even flinch.

You didn’t look scared.

You looked… resigned.

⸻

He meant to check on you.

After training.

After the others had left.

But by the time he got to the forge, you were already gone.

Tuffnut said you needed rest.

Snotlout just nodded and didn’t ask questions.

Not out loud, anyway.

⸻

The next day, you’re back at it.

Flirting with Tuffnut. Sparring. Laughing.

Business as usual.

But now? He’s watching you differently.

He notices the pause you take before swinging. The second longer it takes to catch your breath. The way your hand lingers at your ribs when you think no one’s looking.

He doesn’t say anything.

Because what would he even say?

“Hey, I noticed you bled on the sand yesterday and looked like you might pass out. Wanna talk?”

You’d laugh in his face.

So instead, he watches.

Quiet. Careful.

And for the first time, he finds himself wondering—

When did you stop looking at me?

Because you used to.

He remembers that now. How your gaze used to linger when he talked, even when you rolled your eyes. How your laugh sounded different when it was meant for him.

Now?

You look at Tuffnut.

And whatever you’re holding inside… it’s not meant for Snotlout anymore.

⸻

That night, he stares at the ceiling of his hut, arms folded behind his head, jaw tight.

He doesn’t understand why it bothers him.

Why he keeps replaying your expression after the nosebleed. Why it stings that Tuffnut got to you first. That you let him.

He tells himself it’s nothing.

That you’re fine.

But the feeling in his chest says otherwise.

And it won’t go away.

—-

You find him waiting outside the forge.

It’s rare, seeing him without the usual bravado. No puffed chest, no cocky smirk, no bad jokes about how the flames match his “smoking hot personality.”

Just Snotlout.

Quiet. Fidgeting with the strap of his bracer.

You stop a few feet away, holding a pouch of freshly sharpened arrowheads.

“Hey.”

He looks up, like he wasn’t expecting you.

Even though he clearly was.

“Hey,” he echoes. Then pauses. “You… feeling okay?”

You smile.

Soft. Reassuring.

Because you know what he’s thinking about.

Because you know what he saw.

“I’m fine, Snotlout. Really.”

His eyes search your face. Not like he doubts you. More like he wants to believe it — needs to.

“It just looked bad. The nosebleed, I mean.”

You nod, stepping past him into the forge. You set the pouch down gently.

He follows, hesitantly.

“If there’s something going on, you can tell me, y’know,” he says, voice lower now. “You don’t have to act like it’s all—”

“I’m not acting.”

You turn to face him, calm and steady, voice warm but measured.

“It’s nothing serious. Just the forge, maybe some stress. I’ve been pushing too hard.”

That last part? Not a lie.

Just not the whole truth.

He exhales, relief softening the worry in his face.

And it kills you, a little.

Because he looks so glad to believe you’re okay.

And you hate how much it hurts to lie to someone you still love this quietly.

“You sure?” he asks again.

You nod.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Snotlout. I’m tougher than I look.”

He chuckles — just a little. And for a moment, he looks like the boy you used to dream about when you thought maybe he’d see you.

He gives you a smile. Not the flirty kind. Not the loud, showy one he gives everyone else.

A real one.

“Yeah. I guess you always have been.”

You smile back.

But when he leaves…

You press your hand to your ribs again, just below your heart.

And you breathe slow.

Because if he’s relieved, then you’ve done your job.

—

He should feel better.

You told him you’re okay.

You smiled — not forced, not fake — and said he didn’t have to worry.

You even made a joke about being tougher than you look.

And Snotlout believed you.

He did.

He’s always been good at accepting what people say, not questioning what they don’t.

So why is he still lying awake?

⸻

He keeps replaying the moment in the forge.

The calm way you answered. The way you looked him in the eye. How your voice didn’t shake.

It all felt real.

But the more he thinks about it…

You never used to look at him like that.

Like you were keeping him at arm’s length.

Like you were comforting him instead of letting him comfort you.

He hates how long it took him to notice that difference.

⸻

Minden finds him the next morning near the cliffs, watching the sunrise and picking at a cracked piece of dragon armor.

“Didn’t think you were a sunrise type,” she says, sitting beside him.

He shrugs. “I’m not. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

She bumps her shoulder against his. “Thinking too hard? That’s dangerous territory for you.”

He laughs, but it dies quickly.

She watches him a moment.

“You okay?”

He looks at her.

She’s kind. Easy to be around. Likes him in a way that doesn’t make him feel like he’s got something to prove.

But she’s not the one stuck in his head.

“Do you think…” he starts, then stops.

Minden tilts her head.

“What?”

“…You think someone could be hurting and still act totally fine? Like, not just hiding it, but like… convincing you they’re fine even when they’re not?”

She blinks.

“Yeah. All the time.”

“You’re talking about (Y/N), aren’t you?”

He looks away. “She said she’s fine.”

Minden’s quiet.

“She also looked like she was about to collapse in the sparring ring. People don’t usually bleed out of nowhere for fun.”

Snotlout’s jaw tightens.

He hates this feeling. Of not knowing. Of realizing he might’ve missed something important.

Of wondering when you stopped needing him — or if you ever did at all.

“I just… I don’t get it,” he mutters.

“She used to tell me stuff.”

Minden’s voice is gentle.

“Maybe you stopped being the one she trusted to tell.”

He doesn’t answer.

Because he doesn’t know if that’s true.

Or if it just hurts to consider that it is.

—

You wake up with your throat already raw.

Not from sleep. Not from yelling.

Just… tight. Like your lungs forgot how to breathe overnight.

You sit up slowly, hands trembling slightly as you press them to your ribs.

Still no petals.

But the cough that comes next drags something up anyway — not quite blood, not quite clean.

You spit quietly into a rag.

Wipe it away before your dragon stirs beside you.

⸻

Later, by the cliffs, the sky is pale and overcast. A perfect day for hiding.

You sit with your journal open but untouched, pen hovering over the page.

You think about writing to yourself.

You think about the moment in the forge, when Snotlout looked at you like maybe — maybe — he still saw something in you.

Then you remember how fast he left after you told him what he wanted to hear.

He believed you.

Because it was easier.

Because you made it easier.

And that’s what you do, isn’t it?

Make things easier for everyone.

Even when your lungs are a battlefield and your hands keep shaking during patrol.

⸻

You glance toward the main camp and see him — talking with Minden again, their shoulders close, her hand brushing his arm in passing.

You look away.

You don’t flinch.

You don’t react.

You just write:

Day 5: symptoms lingered past noon.

No nosebleed. Coughing worse.

Hid it.

Tuffnut knows something.

Snotlout suspects nothing.

That’s how I want it.

If he ever looks again, I want it to be because he chose to.

Not because I was breaking.

⸻

You tuck the journal away. Not because it’s done.

Just because you can’t stand to read your own handwriting anymore.

—

It happens fast, the next symptoms that is. Just a scouting mission, nothing risky. Until it happened.

You’re in formation, high over the canyon ridge. A simple recon mission — until it’s not.

The ambush comes from above. Arrows cutting through the air, dragon shrieks echoing against the stone walls.

Chaos explodes in seconds.

You veer hard to the left, narrowly dodging a bolt meant for your shoulder. Your dragon jerks midair, roaring in pain as a grazing hit slices across their wing.

You’re fine. You’re okay.

You move to recover — but then another arrow cuts too close. You twist—

—and lose your footing.

Your fingers miss the saddle straps. Your foot slips. The world tilts.

And you’re falling.

⸻

Everything slows.

You hear the wind rush.

Your dragon’s roar as they twist, trying to follow.

And out of the corner of your eye — just as the weightlessness hits — you see her.

Minden.

Falling, too. Hit square in the ribs. Razorwhip spiraling.

And Snotlout?

He dives.

No hesitation. No looking around. No second thoughts.

Straight for her.

Like instinct. Like gravity.

Like choice.

⸻

And that?

That’s the moment.

Not the impact.

Not the sky.

Not the arrow.

That.

That’s what rips you open.

Because you don’t expect him to choose you.

Not anymore.

But now… now you know he wouldn’t.

⸻

You close your eyes.

You don’t scream.

You don’t panic.

You just… let go.

The air feels cold against your skin. Your heartbeat slows.

And for a second, a small part of you thinks:

Maybe it’s easier this way.

—

Then someone grabs you.

Hard.

Arms around your waist, sharp jerk upward, wind blasting in your face.

You gasp — the first breath you’ve taken in what feels like forever.

And then you hear him.

“You’re not dying on me, you hear me?!”

Tuffnut.

Of course it’s him.

Of all people. Of all moments.

It’s Tuffnut who dives.

Not as a statement. Not as a symbol.

But because he saw you.

Because he looked.

⸻

He lands rough. Messy. Both dragons scrambling. Your knees hit the dirt hard, vision flickering white at the edges.

Your chest heaves. Your throat burns.

You cough — once, twice.

You taste blood.

And Tuffnut doesn’t say a word.

He just holds you up, arms steady as the world spins.

“I got you,” he mutters.

“Even if no one else did.”

—

You’re sitting against a boulder, knees pulled to your chest, Tuffnut crouched in front of you, arms braced on either side like a human barricade.

You can’t breathe right.

Your ribs ache like they’ve been splintered from the inside, and every inhale feels like swallowing shards.

Your vision pulses.

Your ears ring.

And then it happens — a thick, wet cough tearing up your throat. You barely manage to turn your head before the blood hits your glove.

“Okay. Okay, it’s okay—”

Tuffnut’s voice is shaking now, but his hands are steady.

He doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t yell.

He just moves.

Puts himself in front of you, back to the canyon, blocking the view of the others regrouping in the distance.

“Don’t let them see,” you rasp, voice barely audible over the static in your ears.

And he nods.

Because he understands.

He ducks lower, making his body wider, hunching protectively to hide you.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching up with one sleeve to wipe blood from your chin, “You’re good. You’re okay. No one’s looking.”

But that’s a lie.

Because he is.

And what he sees now terrifies him.

⸻

You feel something warm drip past your jaw.

You touch your ear.

More blood.

And something inside you folds.

But not aloud. Not externally.

Because if you start to cry now — if you fall apart now — you won’t come back from it.

So you bury it. Again.

And Tuffnut doesn’t stop you.

He just sits with you like a wall, like a shield, like a friend who knows better than to ask questions you’re not ready to answer.

⸻

In the distance, someone calls your name.

It’s Snotlout’s voice.

You stiffen.

Tuffnut looks at you.

“You want me to tell him you’re fine?”

You nod. Quickly. Almost too quickly.

And Tuffnut stands up, cracks his back like nothing happened, throws a thumbs-up over the ridge and yells,

“All good over here! Just a little tumble!”

No one questions it.

No one comes closer.

Because they believe him.

⸻

He crouches beside you again once they’re gone, face serious in a way that feels wrong on him.

“This is bad, huh?”

You nod once.

Just once.

“You gonna let me help?”

Another nod.

But only him.

Only him.

—

Tuffnut hut is empty, but you don’t sleep on it.

You’re sitting on the floor instead, back pressed against the wall, blanket around your shoulders, knees tucked up to your chest.

It’s well past midnight.

The fire’s burned low. The air smells faintly of herbs and metal. The room is still.

Tuffnut sits across from you, legs crossed, braid undone, gaze tired but steady.

He hasn’t asked questions. Not since the fall.

He doesn’t need to.

⸻

You’re the one who breaks the silence.

“I think I know what this is.”

He doesn’t move.

But his whole body goes still, like he’s holding his breath.

You swallow around the ache in your throat.

“It lines up. The chest pain. The coughing. The bleeding. The way it only started when…”

You trail off. You don’t need to finish.

He already knows what you mean.

“It’s… stupid,” you murmur. “My body’s trying to kill me because I love someone who doesn’t love me back.”

Tuffnut says nothing. Just watches you.

Gives you space.

You let the words sit between you for a moment before continuing.

“If I’m right… and it is hanahaki… I’ll need to do something about it soon.”

You don’t look at him when you say the next part.

“There’s a procedure. Removal.”

“You’ll live,” he says softly.

You nod.

“But I won’t be able to love again. Not the same way.”

It doesn’t sound dramatic. It doesn’t sound like a tragedy.

You say it like a fact. Like a plan. Like choosing a path in the woods because it’s the only one not on fire.

“I don’t want to die over something that was never mine to begin with.”

Tuffnut exhales slowly, leaning his head back against the wall.

“That’s heavy.”

You let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. Almost.

“Yeah.”

Another silence. Long. Gentle.

Then—

“If you do it,” he says, “I’m not gonna tell you it’s wrong. I’m not gonna try to stop you.”

You look at him.

“But just so you know—if you ever want someone to remember what you felt, or who it was for…”

He lifts a hand, taps his temple.

“I’ll hold it. In here. As long as you need.”

You feel something tighten in your chest — not pain, not love — but something close to comfort.

Something that makes the room feel just a little warmer.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods.

And neither of you says anything else for a long time.

—

He didn’t think much of it at first.

Just another sparring injury. Another fall. You’d brushed it off. Tuffnut had waved and shouted something dumb about “catching like a hero.” Everyone moved on.

But it’s been different since then.

You’re different.

Still the same laugh. Still that dry, sharp wit that cuts through training tension like a blade.

But you don’t laugh with him anymore.

Not like you used to.

Now it’s Tuffnut.

You walk beside him after missions. You sit with him during meals. You nudge him when he says something dumb instead of rolling your eyes like before.

And maybe no one else thinks twice about it.

But Snotlout?

He notices.

Because he remembers that mission.

He remembers diving — not for you.

For Minden.

⸻

He’d seen you falling.

Just for a second.

A shape tumbling through the sky.

But then he saw Minden, bleeding, screaming—

And he chose.

He told himself it wasn’t a choice.

It was instinct.

But now?

Now when he sees you look at Tuffnut the way you used to glance at him?

He wonders if maybe that was instinct too.

⸻

He remembers the way Tuffnut held you afterward.

How protective he was.

How he didn’t joke.

And you? You let him.

Didn’t push him away.

Didn’t say “I’m fine” with that smile you always wore for Snotlout.

You just let Tuffnut see you.

⸻

Today, he watches from a distance as you sit near the forge, leaning against a crate, laughing at something Tuffnut’s saying.

You look tired, but not unhappy.

And he tells himself that’s what matters.

But a voice in the back of his head whispers something he doesn’t want to hear:

You didn’t catch her.

He did.

—

—Snotlout’s POV

He notices it again during training.

You’re moving slower.

Not limping, not obviously hurt — just a half-step off. Just enough to make someone like Astrid frown. Just enough to make Snotlout watch you closer.

But before he can say anything, Tuffnut steps in.

Literally.

Slides between you and the others, claps a hand on your shoulder, cracks a joke about “muscle fatigue” and “too many hero landings,” and shifts the group’s focus instantly.

And you?

You smile. Play along.

Like always.

But Snotlout sees the way you lean into Tuffnut’s side just a little.

Like you’re steadying yourself.

⸻

He pulls Tuffnut aside later.

He doesn’t plan to. It just happens.

The words come out before he can stop them.

“She okay?”

Tuffnut’s whole posture changes.

He doesn’t joke.

Doesn’t smirk.

Just studies Snotlout for a long, quiet second.

“She’s handling it.”

It’s not an answer.

Snotlout crosses his arms. “What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t need to worry.”

Snotlout frowns. “Since when do you get to decide that?”

And then Tuffnut does something rare.

He drops the act.

No grin. No sarcasm.

Just quiet intensity.

“Since I caught her when you didn’t.”

Snotlout’s breath hitches — just slightly.

And Tuffnut doesn’t press. Doesn’t shout. Doesn’t accuse.

He just says:

“You didn’t do anything wrong.

But you don’t get to ask questions now just because you’re finally looking.”

Then he turns and walks off, back toward the forge.

Back to you.

⸻

Snotlout stays where he is for a long time.

Listening to the waves crash, watching the sky darken.

And for the first time in a long time… he doesn’t know what to do.

Because someone else saw you falling.

And they were fast enough.

You’re fine.

You keep telling yourself that.

The coughs aren’t as bad this week.

The blood’s less frequent.

The pressure in your chest? Manageable.

You’ve gotten better at hiding it. At knowing when to disappear and how long you can fake it before the shaking in your limbs betrays you.

But today?

Today is harder.

—-

The training ground is loud. Dragons circling. Blades clashing. Snotlout laughing at something Ruffnut said.

You’re helping Fishlegs with gear repairs, sitting on the edge of a crate, hands moving slower than usual, fingers not quite gripping the buckles right.

You feel it before it happens — that familiar flutter deep in your chest, like wings beating too fast inside your ribs.

You close your eyes. Breathe shallow. Wait for it to pass.

It doesn’t.

⸻

Your lungs seize.

A cough claws its way out of you, sharper than expected. You turn away quickly, into your sleeve, forcing it down. But the second one comes harder.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Focus. Control it.

But your vision’s blurring.

The sun feels too bright.

And something warm drips past your lip.

Blood.

⸻

Not now.

Not here.

You stand quickly — too quickly — and stumble.

Someone’s voice calls your name.

Not Tuffnut. Not yet.

Someone else.

You wipe your mouth and keep walking.

One step. Two. Around the edge of the shed, out of sight. You press your palm against the wall to steady yourself, willing your heart to slow down.

Your ears are ringing.

But you’re not going to fall.

Not again.

⸻

A shadow stretches across the ground beside you.

You look up, breath catching.

Tuffnut.

Of course.

He doesn’t speak. He just steps in front of you like a wall again, glancing once toward the sound of Snotlout’s voice somewhere nearby.

“He saw you coughing,” Tuffnut murmurs. “You want me to cover it?”

You nod.

Wipe your mouth again.

“Please.”

And just like that — he turns, walks back around the corner, throws a ridiculous fake coughing fit of his own loud enough to draw attention.

“Fishlegs! You ever inhaled yak fur by accident?! Asking for a friend!”

Laughter follows.

Distraction achieved.

⸻

You lean your head back against the wall. Chest burning. Hands shaking.

Almost.

You almost didn’t make it.

And the worst part?

No one would’ve known why.

—

It’s late when you finally sit down.

Not in your hut. Not in the forge.

But at the edge of the cliffs, where the air is cooler and no one thinks to look.

Except Tuffnut.

He finds you easily.

Of course he does.

He doesn’t speak right away. He just drops down beside you, cross-legged, his braid half-undone and an entire bread roll sticking out of his mouth.

You snort softly.

He tears it in half and holds the rest out to you without a word.

You take it.

⸻

You eat in silence.

The breeze pulls gently at your sleeves. Your head still aches. Your ribs are sore.

But it’s bearable.

Because for once, you don’t have to pretend.

Not here.

Not with him.

⸻

“You looked worse than usual today,” he says eventually.

You hum. “Thanks for the compliment.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

You sigh. Lean your head against his shoulder — not because you’re fragile, not because you want comfort, but because you’re tired.

“It’s getting harder to hide,” you admit.

He’s quiet for a beat too long.

“You should tell them.”

You shake your head.

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

You shrug.

You don’t say:

Because I’m not ready for them to look at me with pity.

Because I don’t want Snotlout to look at me and feel guilty instead of—

You just shrug again.

Tuffnut doesn’t push.

He never does.

⸻

You watch the ocean turn to silver under the moonlight.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d feel like,” you say, “to be the one someone runs toward?”

Tuffnut doesn’t answer right away.

Then, soft:

“You’re the one I ran toward.”

You close your eyes.

Not because it hurts.

But because that’s the kindest thing anyone’s said to you in weeks.

⸻

You don’t cry.

But you let the silence wrap around you like a blanket, and for the first time in a long time, you feel warm.

Not whole.

Not better.

But warm.

—-

The cliffs are quiet again. Same spot. Same view.

Only this time, you’re the one who speaks first.

“I’ve been thinking more about the procedure.”

Tuffnut stops fiddling with the flower he’s been weaving into a crooked crown and looks up.

“Yeah?”

You nod, slowly. Carefully.

“If I want to live… it’s probably the only way.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“But it’s risky. Not just the surgery itself. The way it affects you.”

You draw in a shallow breath, your fingers curling slightly around the edge of your sleeve.

“If it works… I’ll survive. No more coughing. No more blood. It’ll all be gone.”

You glance down at your lap.

“But so will the love.”

He stares. Quiet. Processing.

“Like… all of it?”

You nod.

“The one I have now, yes. The rest…” You pause. “It’s different for everyone. But most never feel it the same way again. It’s like… a part of your heart just goes numb.”

Tuffnut frowns.

And then, he laughs — not like he’s mocking you. But because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“You’re telling me you either die loving… or live without it?”

You smile faintly.

“Pretty poetic for something that’s going to require a surgical cut to my lungs.”

He shakes his head, fingers tightening in the half-woven flower crown. His voice drops.

“You shouldn’t have to make that choice.”

You don’t respond. Because there’s nothing to say.

Not when he’s right.

⸻

You close your eyes, letting the breeze move through your hair.

“If I do it… I need you to understand something.”

He looks over.

“What?”

“I won’t be able to love anyone again.”

The words come soft. Flat. Final.

“Not like that. Not deeply. Not fully. Not the way you deserve to be loved back.”

Tuffnut swallows. Hard.

You don’t mean it romantically — but the weight of it still lands.

“It won’t be your fault,” you add.

“But it will be gone.”

⸻

He’s silent for a long time.

Then he sets the broken flower crown beside you.

“If that happens,” he says, “then I’ll love enough for both of us.”

You don’t respond.

But your throat tightens in a way that has nothing to do with your lungs.

—

The coughs come more often now.

You time them with the wind. With dragon roars. With Tuffnut’s loudest tangents. You’re strategic.

You’re careful.

But not even the best timing hides the pain in your chest when you take too deep a breath. Or the way your hands shake when you try to hold a quill for more than a few minutes.

Your hearing fades in and out, just for seconds at a time.

Sometimes you don’t notice right away — until someone’s lips are moving and you can’t hear the words.

You don’t say anything. Not even to Tuffnut.

Because you already told him enough.

And you’re not going to make him carry more than that.

⸻

You still smile. Still train. Still spar.

But you’re conserving now.

Not living.

Just… preserving.

A few more days. A few more laughs. A few more moments before you make your choice.

And when you look across the training ground and catch Snotlout watching you, eyes narrowed in that almost-worried way…

You offer a wave.

A smile.

Something easy to believe.

And then you turn away.

Because you can’t be the one to hold out hope anymore.

⸻

Snotlout

You should’ve stopped lying to yourself weeks ago.

You know something’s wrong now — you feel it in your gut.

It’s not just the coughing. It’s not just the fall. It’s not even Tuffnut standing too close anymore.

It’s the way you move. Like you’re bracing. Like your body’s not quite yours anymore.

And it’s the way you look at him now.

Like you’re trying to memorize him.

Like you’re getting ready to leave.

⸻

He watches you from across the courtyard as you help Astrid adjust her shield harness. You laugh at something. The same sharp laugh he used to hear up close.

Now he hears it from across rooms.

Why didn’t I notice sooner?

He doesn’t know if you’re mad at him.

He doesn’t know if you’re hurting because of him.

But he knows something’s slipping through his fingers.

And for the first time, he starts to feel something that tastes a little like fear.

—

You’re at the forge again.

Not working. Not crafting. Just… sitting.

Your tools are clean, untouched. The fire’s out. You’re just letting the warmth of the stones soak into your bones, trying to forget the cold that’s been creeping in underneath your skin for days now.

You cough once. Soft.

No blood this time.

Just tightness.

Still there. Always there.

Still unloved.

⸻

The door creaks behind you.

You don’t look up.

You already know it’s him.

“Hey.”

His voice is quieter than usual. Not the cocky bark you’re used to. Not full of jokes or arrogance.

Just… soft.

Worried.

“You’ve been off lately.”

You give him a look, one brow raised. “Since when do you notice things like that?”

He smiles faintly. Shrugs. Steps closer.

“Since it started to feel wrong when you stopped talking to me first.”

That hurts more than it should.

Because it means he only noticed when it affected him.

You chuckle softly. “Didn’t think you’d miss my commentary that much.”

“I do,” he says.

You look at him then.

Really look.

And his eyes… they’re not teasing.

They’re not flirty.

They’re concerned.

But not because he knows what this is.

Just because he doesn’t know anything anymore.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Like, really okay?”

Your heart stutters.

And your body answers before your mouth can:

Your ribs ache.

Your lungs throb.

You taste iron at the back of your throat.

Still here.

Still sick.

Still unloved.

You smile.

Gentle. Convincing.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

He stares at you. Searching.

Like he wants to believe it.

And he will. Because you made it easy.

“If you ever—” he starts.

You cut him off with a soft laugh.

“Snotlout, I’m not dying.”

Not out loud, at least.

He relaxes just a little.

“Okay… good.”

You don’t miss the way his voice catches.

And you hate how much that almost feels like enough.

But it’s not.

Because if he loved you—

If he really did—

This pain would be gone by now.

⸻

You walk past him, back straight, breath tight, and toss over your shoulder:

“See you at dinner?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

—-

He’s heading toward the stables when you stop him.

“Snotlout.”

He turns, blinking. “Yeah?”

You nod once toward the bench outside the forge.

“Sit.”

He tilts his head. “What’d I do now?”

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just sit.”

He does. A little confused. A little curious. The wind messes his hair as he flops down, arms crossed over his chest.

You walk up behind him without another word, fingers already reaching into your pocket.

He doesn’t flinch when you touch his hair. Doesn’t move.

He just… sits there.

Lets you gather the strands near the back. They’re still warm from the sun. Coarse and familiar.

You braid.

Small. Simple. Precise.

The way you always did your own.

“You’re not going to do something embarrassing, are you?” he mutters.

You roll your eyes — the smile in your voice masking everything you’re holding down.

“Your hair doesn’t look as messy like this,” you say, using the same flat, unimpressed tone you’ve always used when teasing him.

And then—without fanfare, without pause—you untie one of the thinner braids woven along the underside of your own hair.

You slip the strand loose. Tie it gently beside the one you just made for him. Not tight, but secure.

He doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t feel what you’ve just given him.

You give the braid a firm tug.

“There. Less of a disaster now.”

He snorts, rubbing the back of his head. “Didn’t know I signed up for a makeover.”

“You didn’t,” you say, stepping back. “Consider it a gift.”

He stands, brushing off his legs.

“Should I be worried about the next one being flowers and glitter?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’d make it work.”

He grins.

You smile.

And when he walks away — laughing to himself, braid swinging gently with each step — you let the wind tangle your fingers.

He doesn’t know.

He’ll never know.

But now?

He carries a piece of you.

Even after you let the rest go.

|Part lll soon|

Author note:

I cried like a train wreck writing this piece 😭

#httyd snotlout #snotlout x reader #httyd rtte #snotlout jorgenson #hanahaki disease #angst #lots of it #deep #romance

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flutterby-bog · 7 months ago

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Some additional headcanon notes nobody asked for, but this time in an overanalyzed format:

Scars

He's got a few scars on his face and a slightly crooked jaw from when it got broken when Bog was still a teen. The same group of goblins that did this had shattered his mother's horns in an attempt at taking the throne by force. These scars and battle damage are all that remain of those goblins.

Height

It's subtle, but Bog's torso segments can extend and retract due to a vestigial adaptation which insects use for breathing. Since he does not have an insectoid respiratory system this has only ever been used for changing his height for any reason. As demonstrated below:

A tall Bog is a confident Bog. When he's insecure he will shrink (either by hunching or drawing himself inward). The difference changes his height substantially. Even at his shortest, at least while standing upright, Bog still towers over Fairies.

Respiratory System

Bog has a large pair of fairy-like lungs inside his chest cavity, perfect for flying with such a heavily weighted body and belting out extended notes for long periods of time. His chest has additional segments that evolved over several molts to allow for efficient contraction/expansion of said lungs.

Vascular System

Has red blood, and a similar pulse to a Fairy, though the pulse is slower and a little louder. His normal level of blood pressure also sits higher than a fairy's. This leads to occasionally related headaches but otherwise does not seem to affect Bog's health.

Skeletal and Muscular System

Has a fusion of both internal and external skeletal systems throughout his body with exception of his torso, which is primarily exoskeleton, and his head, neck, hands, and feet, which lack exoskeletal plating.

His muscles do exist, but they are mostly on the inside of the exoskeletal parts. They are only visible in exposed areas like the underside of his forearms, where his legs connect to his torso, and his neck.

Along his lower legs and his jaw Bog has spurs of bone that sticks out. For insectoids these spines function as tactile receptors and additional grip. For Bog, these are just sensitive and drive Marianne wild for some reason he can't exactly fathom.

Motor Control

Bog has a lot more voluntary control over his body than a Fairy does. His feet are basically another pair of hands with an extended heel and are only slightly less dexterous than his hands. If he wanted to play the piano with his feet, he could easily... If he ever wanted to learn piano, anyway.

He also has individual control over his wings and various segments of his body, especially the ones that are along his shoulders that look like natural pauldrons. Bog likes to flex those in particular to make himself look more intimidating.

Sight

Bog's able to see more in the violet and UV spectrum than a Fairy can. Also exceptional night vision. Take Marianne's wings for example...

Normal Fairy Vision sees visible light.

Bog's Vision - This is what he was seeing the whole time. Well, at night anyway. When the sun came up he got the UV spectrum on her wings too and well, he was already a goner anyway.

Smell

That big nose of his isn't just for show. He's got a powerful sense of smell, which is why he will habitually breathe through his mouth sometimes or he just would get overwhelmed with the amount of scents nearby. Especially if he has to visit the Fairy Kingdom in Spring. Way too many flowers and perfumes.

Diet

Pretty much the same diet as a fairy except he eats meat in addition to the fruits and plants that a fairy can ingest. Does not enjoy overly sweet flavors like honey as much as Marianne does. Prefers spicy. The exception is tea. He very much enjoys tea.

Insectoid Related Habits/Instincts/Misc

Grooming. He'll dust off his wings frequently by running his arm against them.

Damaged wings. His wings are permanently damaged from being attacked. He will never get new ones.

Molts. He molts far less now but when he was younger he would frequently molt.

Puberty. Did not always have wings. Did not have a cocoon stage but over a period of several molts started growing his wings.

Betrayed emotions. If you know how to read his body language, you can look past the grumpy face. When he's nervous, his wings will pulse in successively. When uncomfortable/embarrassed/anxious he will get very fidgety. When angry, involuntarily rattles (ch-ch-ch-ch noise) his wings and shoulder segments. His expression might look "angry" when he's actually not. Sometimes it's just a mask (unless he's rattling then for peat's sake, Thang, get out of the way! You should know better by now...)

Jumpy. Loud noises/vibrations/quick movements will startle Bog, causing him to involuntarily flinch/jump fairly easily. Beware his fast reflexes, though. Just because you make him jump doesn't mean you got the jump on him.

Goblin Related Habits/Instincts/Misc

Dominant posturing. Goblins in general have a very strict social pecking order. The strongest lead and just because Bog's father was King of the Dark Forest doesn't mean he got the throne by birthright. In the Dark Forest you have to earn the respect of your people. And that means if a goblin wanted to usurp Bog, they could definitely try. It wouldn't end well for them, though.

Oh, somewhat related to the above, but Marianne's sucker punch may have initially ticked him off, because technically that was a challenge. His initial move was going for a big "F-you" with his staff, but you know why he went back a second time? To show off. Because he found it hot.

Protective drive. Goblins are pack creatures and fiercely loyal, and this includes Bog even in a position of leadership. Sure he might smack Thang around because the little moron irritated him, but the moment someone from the outside starts smacking Thang around it's over for them. Bog's little put-put swing on Thang is nothing compared to the heavy golf swing he'll do on the idiot who tries to mess with his goblins. (The mushrooms got the full golf swing but trust, they are fine. Bog knows what will/wont hurt someone.)

Fairy Related Habits/Instincts/Misc

Singing/Music Magic. Fairies have magic that can turn any stick, light source, or noise into music while they are in the vicinity. Bog prefers a different kind of music than most fairies seem to enjoy, but he still possesses this magic nonetheless. Goblins do not usually sing, but they'll play instruments or do some back-up vocals for the fun of it.

Heart on the sleeve. This is a weakness Bog actively goes out of his way to suppress, but he really is a romantic deep down, as most Fairies have a tendency to be. Sure-sure he says he hates love, but then has a soft spot for Dawn's boutonniere gift that he can't quite explain. It's the fairy in you, Bog. It's okay.

Blooming Magic. Bog can touch a fern and make it unfurl, same as Marianne can. He can also make sure venus fly traps get the nutrients they need even if he snaps them shut just to walk on them for absolutely no reason other than showing off for Marianne. The magic fairies use to bloom flowers basically is just giving the plant nutrients it needs and speeding up the blooming process.

#strange magic #bog king #headcanon #long post #this is my general headcanon for Bog #like the backbone of my headcanon if that makes sense #the Bog from my fanfic has a whole other thing going on

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sanspuppet · 2 years ago

Text

This was actually a request from an anon but i accidentally deleted it instead of posting it 😭 my bad anyways i still want to rewrite it hoping the anon will look at my last posts 🥲

imagine laying on your bed, just chilling after a tough day, listening to music while chatting with your best friend. You're quiet surprised when you see that San has sent you a text (because you live together and there's only a wall 10 inches thick that's dividing you two) if you were previously smiling innocently, your mouth hangs open as you see the blurred preview and noticing that it's probably a picture of his bare chest. Your phone takes less than two seconds for downloading it, you open immediately the photo, admiring his perfect body.

At first, your eyes are locked on his red nipples, they then dived to his temporary tattoos (that you have always found incredibly hot) before literally widening at the sight of his defined abs. He was flexing his left arm, accentuating the bicep, the other one was resting on his lower abdomen, and it's when you follow it with your gaze that you notice his cockhead popping out of the edge of the photo. It was of a cherry red, leaking with precum and that’s enough for you to make your legs shut, feeling your cunt automatically dripping wet. You’re a giggles and whines mess, you bite your wrist to hold back any scream. It’s quite embarrassing that your legs are shaking, making you kick your feet euphorically.

“Oh my god he’s so sexy~” you murmur, not long after you notice the door opening, San half naked, with only a pair of boxers covering him, heading towards you.

“You seem enjoying, i watched you” He’s on top of you, your body’s between his strong arms as he’s holding onto the headboard.

“What? Oh my god such a pervert” you roll your eyes, locking them again to your phone screen that’s still showing the picture.

“You like it tho”

San gets closer to your face, his nose almost touching yours. You blink a few times, waiting for him to go ahead and do whatever he has planned to do. He attaches his lips to yours, biting your lower one to make you open your mouth and start making out properly. His tongue is trailing wet line all over your neck, before biting softly on them. You’re fingers are carding through his hair, forcing him not to pull away. San whispers in the crook of your neck, as his hand is groping your side hip:

“I took that pic 5 minutes ago, i need you. now.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez povs #ateez x reader #choi san #choi san smut #san scenarios #choi san x reader #san pov #san imagines #san x reader #san smut #ateez san #san hard thoughts

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krisdreaming · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! If you're still looking for fall ideas, what about getting some sweet warm drinks with Ushijima...and he gets a little whipped cream on his nose... 🥺🥺

Omg of course, this is soooo cute 🥺 I think I got a cavity writing this. The fact that it's been in the 90s F the past few days where I live is irrelevant, shh.

(ps to the other fall requests they're cominggg I promise!!)

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

WC: ~900

You've been having a wonderful time with Wakatoshi at the pumpkin patch, picking out the perfect pumpkins to carve later and sampling all of the delicious treats. Still, the autumn chill has begun to settle in, and you're starting to feel it in the tips of your toes. You nonchalantly hug your arms around yourself for a few moments, trying to produce just a little extra warmth without making it too obvious. Wakatoshi still notices, though.

"Are you getting cold?" He asks, his hand at your back as he dips down so his soft question can be heard above the din of the crowd.

"No," You say quickly. His brow crinkles into a slight frown, and you laugh softly. "Well, just a tiny bit," You amend. It's rare that you get to do things like this with your boyfriend, so you want to make this day last.

"Hmm," He hums, then reaches for your hand, tugging you back toward the food stalls. "I think I saw hot chocolate at one of these stands. Would that help?" He asks as you walk.

"Definitely," You grin. "That sounds really nice, actually." The thought of the creamy, warm cocoa already has you feeling a bit less chilly. When your turn comes up, Wakatoshi orders two cups. The woman smiles. "And would you like whipped cream?" Wakatoshi merely glances at you, and you nod quickly.

"Yes please!" It always makes the last few swallows the best part. Soon enough, she presents two steaming cups of cocoa, dolloped with whipped cream and topped with tiny pumpkin sprinkles.

"Sorry, Toshi," You nudge him gently with your elbow as he scans the area for an empty table. "I should've asked for the whipped cream only on mine." You know he doesn't care for overly sweet things, and the cocoa alone is more indulgent than usual for him.

"It's fine," He shrugs as you take a seat at a nearby table. "It'll be nice for a treat." His lips quirk into a smile, and you can tell that he means it.

You draw in the aroma of the sweetened steam, and soon lift your cup to your lips for a careful sip. When you finally look back at him, you realize he must have done the same. It takes everything in you to stifle your laughter. That perfect dollop of whipped cream is now partially smeared on the tip of his nose. He seems oblivious to it, which makes it even more adorable.

"What is it?" He asks with a frown as your giggle slips out.

"Toshi," You crook your finger, "Come here."

"Why?" He asks slowly, but he does as you beckon, leaning across the table until he's in reach and you can swipe the cream off his nose with your fingertip.

He jerks backwards slightly, frown morphing into a look of surprise at your sudden movement. "You got a little on your nose," You laugh, displaying it for him for a few seconds before popping it in your mouth, enjoying the sticky sweetness.

"Oh," He murmurs, the slightest tinge forming high in his cheeks. "Thanks." He lifts his own hand and scrubs at his nose, inspecting it to be sure he'd gotten all of it. "Is it gone?"

"Yes, it's gone," You assure him, taking another sip of your cocoa. Maybe you should've captured a photo before you cleaned it off, you think belatedly. You can't keep the smile from your face as you admire him across the table. "It was cute," You add teasingly.

"Oh?" He shakes his head slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well then." He takes another sip, tilting the cup far enough that it will certainly tip more whipped cream onto his nose, and it does. "Maybe I should leave it," He muses with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Toshi!" You blurt in a peal of laughter, lifting your hand to your lips before any cocoa can spatter out. "I can't believe you just did that!" Soon he's chuckling too, the sound sending tendrils of warmth through your middle. It's not often you get to see your boyfriend acting silly, and you want to savor it.

He finally swipes the whipped cream off of his nose, and you settle into a comfortable silence as you both continue sipping your drinks. You're glad he seems to be enjoying the day. It had been your idea, and part of you was worried it might be boring for him, but the smile on his face tells you it had been well worth it.

"Oh, hold still." He says suddenly, and he reaches out to steady your face with his fingertips as he swipes at the corner of your lips with his thumb. "There." He nods. "You had a little bit of cream stuck there," He explains.

"Oh, thanks," You wipe the back of your hand quickly across your mouth. "None on my nose, though?" You ask with a teasing grin. "Am I clean?"

"None on your nose," He agrees softly, eying you more critically. "But..." Instead of responding, his fingers are back at your chin. Before you can react, he leans across the table, slightly tilting your face as his lips press to the corner of yours.

"There. Now you're clean." He looks a little too pleased with himself, and you? You certainly aren't feeling cold at all.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima fluff

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toriisasimp · 1 year ago

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Chapter 4 of ?: Don't Get Caught

An Egon Spengler x fem!reader mini-series!

Prompt: Your suit has arrived! Everyone is so thrilled to see you as an official member of the team, especially Egon. He is anxious to show you how he feels.. and later formulates the perfect plan to get you alone.

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! Other than that, nothing!

A/N: Egon in this chapter got me blushiiiiin. Y'all are not ready. Or maybe, if you're a sexually frustrated young adult like me, you are! Minors DNI. Enjoy!

That evening, Janine decided to surprise you with your suit- a smaller khaki jumpsuit, and your embroidered name tag. The sight of it hanging up made you grin, giggle, and jump around for a few seconds before you got ahold of yourself.

You now stood inside the sleeping quarters, with the door shut. You zipped up the suit and stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment, letting out a sharp exhale as you smoothed the fabric over your legs.

Your boots clambered on the wood floor as you approached the bedroom door, giving it a gentle knock.

“You guys ready?”

Peter, Ray, Winston, Janine and Egon were all seated outside of the room- awaiting the reveal of your suit. Janine wanted to see it on to make sure it fit, and thought the guys might want to see it as well.

“Come on out, potato sack!” Peter whooped.

“It does not look like a potato sack, Pete.” Winston nudged him. “..On her, at least. Now, on you..”

“Oh, shut it, Zeddemo-“ Peter was quickly cut off by the door opening and you stepping out. In your combat boots, belt, and jumpsuit- you truly looked the part. You nervously smiled and smoothed out the fabric again.

“Does it look okay?” It was then that you assessed everyone’s reactions.

Winston and Ray were smiling proudly, both nodding in agreement.

Peter whistled, looking you up and down.

And Egon.. well, Egon was bright red, his hands clasped in front of him.

Before you could say much else, Janine walked over, adjusting the collar. “It’s not too big here, is it hun?” She tugged on the sleeves.

“Oh, no no. It fits like a glove.” You say with a smile, and she raises her hand to pat your cheek. “Good. You look great.” She then steps off to head back downstairs.

Winston gave you a polite and approving nod before stepping away, Ray coming up to pat your shoulder and compliment how well you looked.

“Got anything on under there, princess..?” Peter chuckles and approaches you, and you put a hand up, blocking him.

“Shut up, Peter. You’re gross.”

“I’m just being honest!”

You roll your eyes and he blows you a kiss before moving around you to step into the bedroom.

Your eyes fall to Egon, who is staring back at you. Hungrier, this time. Less bashful.

A small smirk plays on your lips as he begins to B-line towards you, and you take a few steps back, before he grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you into a storage closet behind you.

The door shuts and its pitch black, but you feel his hands run over your waist, down your thighs, his face finding its place in the crook of your neck, leaving kisses and marks there.

You breathily giggle, your head falling back as your fingers run through his curls, messing them up.

“Egon-“ You breathe out.

“Look at you.” He murmurs, muffled by his face being buried, and you lift his head, holding both sides of his face and looking him in the eyes.

“I know.” You whisper, before he smashes his lips against yours, hands wandering desperately- soft pants and whines leaving you as he feels you up, your hands find their spot on the collar of his shirt.

“Not here, we-“ You giggle. “Could get caught..” He kisses you consistently, and you only have moments to speak when you pull away to breathe.

He pulls away, your noses brushing as he speaks lowly. “Does it look like I care?”

His sentences makes your heart flutter and you feel like your skin is buzzing.

“They could walk in.”

Egon huffs. He doesn’t lean back in, but keeps his hands on you.

“We..” One of his hands lowers, resting on your inner thigh. You hold your breath. His lips are right at your ear. “..Are not done here.”

You playfully shove him off and laugh, re-zipping up your suit after he somehow managed to get it halfway undone. “You're so gross.” You laugh.

“I simply want to please my woman.” He says with a wink, before gripping the handle of the door and swinging it open to step out, leaving you breathless.

The sentence he left you with makes you blush, and you look down, shuffling in your boots for a moment before stepping out after him. Thankfully, nobody was nearby.

The rest of the day, the two of you are eyeing each other, trying to remain casual around the others. You were just wondering when he was going to pounce.

That night, you’re laying in bed, and he’s in his- you can tell by the breathing you hear behind you. The tension could be cut with a knife. But eventually, you both doze off.. dreaming of.. things.

The next day was a normal work day, taking a few calls around town with Ray. You returned back to Egon that evening with a sample of some more slime, and you took note at how swiftly the other guys left.

Holding the small tub of slime, you watch as Ray and Peter swiftly pack up their things for the night and head for the stairs.

“Hey, where are you guys heading off to so quickly? I was thinking we could order in-“

“Ah, I promised Dana I’d stay home with Oscar while she went out with some friends-“ Peter excused himself.

“.. And I’ve got.. things.” Ray waved a hand around, making you furrow your brows. “Goodnight, kid!” Ray said as the sound of the front door shutting could be heard.

“What the hell?” You murmured, turning around slowly and seeing Egon at the workbench next to the microscope.

“Bring that over here, please.” Egon spoke up, engrossed in tending to one of his many spores.

You huffed and walked over, doing the procedure of putting some of the slime on a slide and putting it under the microscope. “Any clue what that was all about?” You ask, before leaning over to look into the microscope.

Egon shrugged, eyes flickering over to you looking at the slime. He wrapped up his work on the spore, before moving to stand behind you, arms coming around on either side of you to adjust the knobs to make the picture more clear.

“Better?” He asks softly, and you reply with a silent nod.

As you’re examining the slime, mumbling some random observations and information about it and how you got it, you feel Egon’s presence remain behind you, and his hands move from the knobs to rest gently on your waist.

Your talking slows for a brief moment, perhaps he’s just moving around you, you think. But no, his touch doesn’t falter.

“Keep talking.” He speaks slowly, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. Your breath catches in your throat as he pressed his front flush against your backside, making one of your hands brace against the edge of the workbench.

You obey his direction, continuing your explanation of the slime. You hear the tub of slime next to you gurgle, but you can’t see it because you’re still focused on the microscope.

You shiver as his fingers tease the skin right under the hem of your shirt, and you finally raise your head from the microscope.

“Egon-“ You whisper, straightening up enough for your back to be pressed against his chest. He takes the opportunity to walk you both forward a few steps, caging you in between him and the workbench.

The slime reacts, gurgling and bubbling again.

You then notice his lab coat has been abandoned, and his button up sleeves have been rolled up as his arms move to wrap around you, his face burying in your neck.

“Was this your plan all along? Get the boys out so you could-“ You breathe out a laugh, one of your hands lifting to tangle in his curls.

“You said you didn’t want to get caught, right?” He asks, voice muffled slightly as he pressed kisses to your neck and jawline. “Now, I can finally touch you..” His voice trails off as his hands move to lift your shirt slightly, running over the skin of your stomach. Your knuckles turn white against the workbench, and you swallow hard to keep down a whine.

As his hands trace over the waistband of your jeans, your hips buck accidentally, and a barely audible whine forms at the back of your throat, and you can hear him chuckle lowly behind you. The slime bubbles.

“You’ve been thinking the same thing too, haven’t you?”

All you can do is take a heavy breath, and you feel your senses heighten as he unbuttons your jeans, and smoothly slides a hand in.. lowering down to tease a hand between your folds.

Your jaw drops, head dropping forward and hand flying to hold his wrist. He follows your movements, keeping his chest flush against your back, lips by your ear. “There she is..” He murmurs.

A soft moan finally escapes you, as he begins to circle your clit- and you swear you can hear him moan along with you.. feeling something pressing against your backside. Christ.

The slime bubbles so much it begins to overflow, onto the workbench surface.

Your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder as your fingers keep hold on his curls, the other on his wrist. “Right there-“ You bite your lip.

“There?” He intentionally moves away from the spot that had you shaking.

“No-“ You whine, and it brings a chuckle out of him. He finally moves his fingers back to the spot and slips them in, beginning to pump them in and out.

“Egon-!” You moan out his name, and it’s like music to his ears. His cheeks are flushed, and he can feel himself harden against you as he gets you off.

“You’re close, I can feel it.” He whispers against your ear; and it makes you shiver, hand tightening around his wrist. After a few more pumps of his fingers and kisses on your neck, your climax washed over you, making your head fall forward again, hand slipping away from his wrist to brace against the counter. The slime container had tipped over, spilled all over the workbench. You whisper out his name a final time, chest rising and falling quickly as you catch your breath.

“Good, very good..” He murmurs, removing his hand from your pants and fixing them back up. “Very good results..”

What you don’t see is him licking your juices clean off his fingers, and adjusting his own pants before his arms wrap around you from behind, more gentle this time.

“Conducted another experiment there, Doctor Spengler..?” You ask hazily.

“Mm.. or perhaps I just wanted to finish what I started.”

You snort. “Yeah- that’s for sure.” Your eyes flutter shut, turning in his arms to wrap yours around his neck, and rest your head on his chest.

He laughs along with you, you can feel the vibration of his chest. “You should go lay down. I’ll order us food.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and swaying gently.

“Mm.. Chinese?”

“I was thinking Thai.”

“Or maybe Mexican?” You glance up at him, and see him smiling down at you.

“Mexican it is.”

You nod at your agreement, and step away to shuffle off to the bedroom, to change into something more comfortable.

The evening concluded with a feast of Mexican between the two of you, winding down with some sudoku (that Egon aced, and took you half an hour to finish one page), and both of you eventually went to bed.. sharing the bed for the night since the other occupants had went home.

He curled up behind you, falling fast asleep. You made sure to take off his glasses for him and set them on the bedside table, since he always forgot.

You felt sleep tug you under, as you felt safe in the arms of your favorite scientist.

#egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters frozen empire #egon my beloved #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #fanfic #self ship #smut

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bigbadivy · 2 years ago

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Chess Partner

Rival had that glint in his eyes, she noticed, the one he recently has when they play.

"Things don't look too well for you, don't they?"

The perfect, still, poker-face Heroine mastered kept away any information he tried to get.

"That is what you have said last time."

He frowned a bit, but his eyes kept their shine.

"So you do have a plan..."

"Hopefully."

"Then I shouldn't eat your knight..."

"If you doing this is in my plan."

Rival leaned in and squinted at her. Sometimes, just sometimes, he was too dangerously cute. Heroine hated to admit that to herself, but the way her lips urged to smile at his sight left no doubt.

"So you DO want me to do this...!"

"You can try to interogate me all day, or actually think for yourself."

Hero almost let out a chuckle as she answered. He pouted again, adding a frown and a crooked nose. She finally let out a laugh, dropping her straight face.

"You're a pleasure to play with..."

Rival was quite for a moment, his smile was... It has never been that soft. God her heart beat so fast.

"I can say the same for you."

He blushed a little and looked away. Scratching his scalp, Heroine used the distraction to take mental notes.

He brushed his hair, which she doesn't remember him doing in any other day they met. A warmth grew in her as she hoped that she read the signs right. His clothes were nicer, too. He replaced the usual seeatshirt and sweatpants with a polo shirt and jeans. The shirt's sleeves were shorter, which was nice and...

He has a scar. Right at the back of his forearm, barely noticeable.

"That's it. I'm not eating that. It reeks with a scheme."

Hero knows that scar. And she knows that man. Villain grinned at her.

"Knew this was your plan. Scared now?"

She immediately returned her poker face.

"Plans change."

She played her move quickly and quietly. Villain took some time but made finished his turn.

"I'm gonna win this time, I can feel it."

Hero didn't respond or banter back. She didn't say anything for the next few turns, no matter what he tried to do to tease or make her laugh. He grew more worried each turn.

"Hey ummm..."

She needs to finish this and think of the next step. This was her chance to catch him once and for all.

"You good?"

Looking up, she noticed his worried expression. It was completely geniune when she smiled and reassured him.

"Yes, just got lost in thoughts for a bit."

He smiled back.

"I actually had something weighing on me too, mind if...?"

"Go ahead."

He took a big breath. That moment, she knew what was about to happen. What she wished one of them will be brave enough for. She wished for this ever since they first played her. Ever since he truly challenged her. Ever since he took his loss with a laugh and adoring eyes.

"I know we only ever meet here to play, and that I have annoying jokes and... And an annoying self..."

Even the dread she felt didn't stop her from chuckling.

"But I like... I don't know... This. Playing wit- Even when you win. So you I thought..."

The fact that she knew of his identity didn't stop the butterflies she felt. Making her wish he was who she sees now. Just a softhearted, clever guy she met at an urban chess.

"We could go get ice cream aft-, or something less childis- I mean... Well you-"

This is her chance. Even if not for love. She showed him the best smile she could master.

"How about coffee tomorrow? I know a perfect place."

A coffee shop 50 meters away from a police station. It will be easy.

He smiled shyly and let out of all the air he held in his lungs.

"Sounds perfect..."

His blushed and relieved face turned her stomach. Imagining how he'd look at her tomorrow, when he'll realize who she really is.

But now Heroine must forget about it. She'll smile and laugh and be happy, genuinely happy, that they like each other.

They were chess partners, and she can't allow him to guess her next move.

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swmgnuts · 2 years ago

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You’ll Never betray Me, right?

Established relationship, like makarov is in looove😍.

Can be read as Stockholm syndrome reader, although not intentionally written.

Smooching time with Makarov‼️‼️

Makarov my love that would never be mean to you when your upset💔

When you are crying about something silly or are just overwhelmed He’d laugh and say something insensitive like “Ugh are you crying again??”

Pretends to be annoyed when you cry more but then pulls you into his chest and sways with you side to side,

Actually has the biggest grin imaginable, because your crying and leaning into HIM not anybody else but HIM,

Don’t leant too far into him tho you might feel his boner

After you finished crying and are just a tear stained mess of sobs and in search of more comfort of leaning more into him, he pulls your face in his hand and guides your face to his to give you a kiss, he isn’t considerate of his harsh stubble beard that rubs uncomfortably against your sensitive skin but you swear the best comfort he can give is those over the top and overwhelming kisses that drown out everting that made you cry.

If it’s really bad, he’ll hold your head in both his hands and stick his finger in your ear so you can only hear the sounds inside your mouth, your moans, his grunts, how your tongues swing.

It calms you down often, his roughness became comfort.

And if even that isn’t enough, he’ll huff and say stuff like,

“Isn’t my love enough for you Любимая?”

You are still sniffling and some stray tears escape your sad eyes, that look at him with so much hurt, like a kicked puppy that’s now whimpering and whining for comfort from their owner,

And what kind of owner would Makarov be if he didn’t take care of his most precious pet?

Although every dirty and kinda perverted plan of comfort was completely thrown off when you Kissed him yourself.

It started with a peck next to the lips as a taste, you literally licked your lips and tasted the chapstick you forced him to use, the memory of how red and embarrassed he was to use something as ‘girly’ as chapstick made you pause and giggle for a second.

The sight made Makarov give you excess to every part of his body to keep you react like that, he would never admit it but, this is one of the true signs he loves you.

Not that he’d kill for you or do every crime under the sun for you, No.. Killing is easy for him but being vulnerable like this, with his heart exposed for just a second.

That’s his kind of love.

And while you continued to kiss him, his lips, neck, cheek, collarbone. You couldn’t help but smell his cologne, you buried your nose into the crook of his neck and memorised the smell.

And Makarov took that as a sign to get undressed, first his gear, his jacket and shirt, till he stood with only his pants in front of you,

“If you like my cologne that much I’ll make sure you smell like nobody else other that me tomorrow”

His corky smirk while he said that made you a bit Touch deprived?

You wanted to crawl into his skin and only feel his warmth, nobody else’s, you wanted to die in his arms and be buried in his soul for the end of time, you wanted to devour him so once you are gone, a part of him will always be with you.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his body, now kissing his naked upper body with pleads of him never leaving, of please staying by your side forever, you couldn’t live without him.

It made Makarov so proud to hear that from you, he knew the perfect reward!

So after your pelvis was destroyed, your legs numb and Too many bite marks and hickeys left on your body, Makarov kneeled on the bed, before his new master piece, he was a little out of breath but appreciated was he created none the less.

Your expression fucked out of your mind, your eyelids half lidded, probably half asleep, panting while your chest rises and fell, your tired arms stretching out to ask for innocent cuddles, and because you were being such a good pet today, he indulged into your childish requests of comfort.

It wasn’t like he hated them though so keep asking him for cuddles and all this embarrassing stuff that humiliates him and his pride, like goodbye kisses and morning cuddles… maybe he does like them.

Now in your arms, you looked into each others eyes, the silence was nice.. he memorises the swirls of Color in your eyes and the shade of black in your iris, he gently pulled stray strands of hair away from your face, and you admired his scars and tattoos he has on his chest, tracing for the ink, tickling his skin, making him smile and laugh a bit when you’d frown at his ‘heavy’ scars, the deep ones, the ones that hurt.

Which made his smile and laughter drop, a question he wished his mind would never demand him to ask you, you looked up at his with your beautiful eyes, innocently, naively, you would never would you?

Suddenly the amusement and light heartiness in his eyes were gone, a cold stare that you couldn’t handle was placed there instead and you immediately ripped your hand away from his chest like you’d be burned, it made him frown more.

“You’d never betray me… right?“

Hurt and A certain sharpness was in his voice, where was this coming from? Did you do something wrong?

„W-What? Makarov what are you talk-„

He grabbed you face in one hand and squeezed your jaw too tightly to not be painful, intentionally, Makarov knew how much force to put to hurt or be gentle with you, you knew better than anyone else.

„You are never going to betray me, Right?“

You couldn’t even respond as his grip tighten around your jaw, you could already feel the strain.

„Answer Darling. Im quite impatient with questions don’t you know?“

The only responds you could manage with shivering hand and tear welled eyes and to cup his face and kiss him the most passionate way you could with the pain in your jaw, and it worked, his hand got looser but never left your face, his eyelids fluttered half closed as they mustered your expression.

After a while you pulled away and you took the opportunity to speak again,

„If you want to kill me, let me kiss you enough for both our life times.“

Wow okay kinda romantic, got me blushing tbh ISKYJFJD

Anyways that night, Makarov may or may not looked at wedding rings after you fell asleep again.

Yeah I think that’s it for this post tbh and if the wasn’t enough for you then they lived happily ever after in a toxic relationship where reader could never really afford a therapist but a random ratty Russian man you picked off the street and decided that husband material (THATS MEEE‼️‼️‼️‼️IM READER‼️‼️‼️‼️)

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fettuccin-e · 2 years ago

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Forever Feels Good

A/N: So yeah. its more santi smut. I rewatched triple frontier recently and yknow how oscar and pedro look absolutely scrumpdiddlyumptious so i had to write some happy, domesticated santi because HE DESERVES SOMETHING GOOD

Description: Sometimes, Santi can't believe that he's actually yours, that you're his. And, as a good husband, he just wants to make his beautiful wife feel good. (w/c: 3.1K)

Tags: Santiago "Pope" Garcia x reader, afab!fem!reader, Santi really likes that she's his wife, pretty domestic, alcohol consumption, oral (r!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), breeding kink like quite a bit of breeding kink i may have a problem

Santi sometimes forgets that he’s actually married to you. That it’s his ring on your finger, that he lives in a home that the both of you share.

There’s a part of him, a big part, that looks at you and knows that you’re too beautiful to really be his. With your bright smile and glittering eyes, smoothing out his rough edges and giving something to live for again. It doesn’t feel real, even after years of being married, introducing you as his wife to all of his coworkers and friends, fixing up a house you bought together, living a perfect little white picket fence life that Santi had only thought was a fantasy while in Delta.

He watches you with rapt attention across the bar, grabbing your fruity drink from the bartender while you chat with Frankie at the pool table.

You’re laughing hard to a story that Frankie is telling, Santi’s beer clutched in one of your hands while you brace the other on Frankie’s shoulder. Your cheeks are flushed, your eyes are crinkling at the corners with your grin, and Santi can’t imagine anyone more perfect.

As your laughter eventually dies down you gaze at Santi across the room, probably unaware that he was already staring, and the breath is nearly knocked out of his lungs as your eyes meet. Your wide smile melts into something softer, intimate even in a room full of people, and his already weak knees want to give out.

He forces himself to walk on shaky legs across the room, setting your drink on your table, fingers itching to touch your soft skin. He spins you around when he reaches you, pinning your back to his front and wrapping his strong arms around your waist while he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

Your perfume is strongest there, the smell of you invading his senses and swimming through his desperate mind. He vaguely senses Frankie walking away to talk to Will, but he couldn't care less at the moment. Not when he has his wife in his arms, your hair tickling his nose and you giggle echoing in his ears.

Santi presses a kiss to your neck, unable to help himself. “Look so pretty tonight, princesa. Y’wanna let me take you home?” he murmurs quietly into your ear, hearing you suck in a soft breath.

“I don’t know how my husband would feel about that, handsome,” you giggle, and he tugs you just a little bit closer.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sure he won’t mind one bit,” he chuckles lowly. “Can’t let a pretty thing like you go without being taken care of like you deserve.”

“Hm,” you sigh, leaning back against his strong body, “you drive a hard bargain, don’t you?” You reach a hand back to wind your hand into his hair, tugging him up to meet your lips in a sticky kiss. “Promise to take care of me, baby? I’ve been told that I can be greedy. Gonna need you to make me cum as many times as I want.”

Santi feels lightheaded, his vision blurring at the edges. “Fuck, hermosa, anything. Anything you want, you’ll get it, promise I’ll-”

“Hey, lovebirds!” you hear Benny call from the pool table, stick clutched in his hand. He’s disarmingly loud even in a room full of people, your head snaps ahead from Santi’s lips, and you can feel the groan rumble in your husband’s chest at the loss. You smirk to yourself involuntarily, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that you’re the one that can bring Santiago Garcia, ex-military grump with a will of fucking steel, to his knees with a something as simple as a little kiss.

“You guys gonna get a room or what? Think of the kids!” Benny continues, laughing. Frankie chuckles with him, Will smacks him on the back of the head.

“Turning a little green there, Miller!” you fire back, smiling all the while. “Been a while since you got any? Celibacy is not a good look on you, man.” Frankie laughs harder at that, and even Will chuckles, and it’s Benny’s turn to smack his brother on the back of his head.

You turn your head again to whisper up into Santi’s ear, “As much as I hate to admit it, he might be right.” You shift your hips back, just a little, pressing your ass tight against the bulge of his dick in those tight pants he always wears. Santi curses.

“You wanna get out of here handsome?”

“Please,” Santi groans, and you laugh softly at his eagerness before you’re grabbing his hand and walking him to the door of the bar, nodding a goodbye at Frankie as you do.

He’s on you the moment you walk through the door of your shared home, pressing you hard against the door with a thick thigh between your legs, pressed tight against your hot cunt through the material of your panties under your skirt. He licks into your mouth like he’s starving for it, like he’ll never get to again, like it’s not the cold metal of his ring on your finger, pressed against his cheek as you cup his jaw.

“So, so fucking pretty for me hermosa, my god. Got everyone in that bar looking at you, but you’re mine, yeah? My wife, fuck-” Santi says into your mouth, choking on the last word, bucking up into you.

“Bed, Santi, please,” you whine, head spinning with the taste, the smell, the feel of him under your fingertips. Six years of marriage, and you’re both still obsessed with each other the same way you were when you both first met. Clutching into each other like the other will disappear at any moment, like every second together has only been a wonderful dream. He grins into your mouth before taking your hand again, breaking into a jog through your little house and into your bedroom, the both of you giggling like teenagers.

You make him feel young, Santi thinks, laughing into your mouth as he lays you gently onto the mattress. Even with his creaky knees and graying hair, you manage to make him feel young. He presses himself against you, and you mewl, your hips moving in desperate little grinds against the bulge in his jeans.

“Santi, please,” you choke, gasping softly as his zipper catches on your clit through your panties. You’re clenching around nothing, suddenly so unbearably empty that you could cry from it.

Santi shushes you gently, running his hands under your shirt, rucking it up over your chest. You raise your arms to help him along, and Santi wastes no time in divesting you of your shirt. He tosses it behind him carelessly before leaning down again to lick into your mouth, utterly addicted to the taste of you.

There’s something about Santi that brings out this part of you, this desperate, needy part that you’d never felt before knowing him. He makes you feel ravenous, animalistic as he towers over you, kissing you like a man possessed.

You reach down to grab his shirt in a fist, shoving it up his stomach until he finally smiles against your mouth, breaking away from your kiss to yank his shirt off, tossing it in the same direction he threw yours. He moves down, trailing hot, sticky kisses and bites to your neck, your collarbone, right between the valley of your tits.

His thick hands curl around your back, his calluses scratching along your soft skin, raising goosebumps in their wake as he unclasps your bra, dragging it down your arms and leaving you bared to him. It should feel vulnerable, exposed, but you hear Santi groan softly under his breath at the sight of you, and you feel anything but vulnerable. Fuck, you feel powerful, stunning under Santi’s burning gaze.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it feverishly while his other hand, warm and rough, tweaks the other harshly. You can’t help how your back shoots up, how a choked moan escapes your throat. Your hands tangle in his hair, a terribly sexy mess of grey and black, holding him to your chest.

“Fuck, oh God, Santi, Santi, need you so bad baby, please. Please,” you mumble, your mind already hazy as Santi switches nipples, his eyes closed and lost in you. He brings his free hand down, down, under your skirt, and presses a thumb harshly over your clit through your panties. The friction of the cotton is harsh against your throbbing clit, but Santi rubs quick little circles into you, reveling in the whines that escape unbidden from the back of your throat.

“So fucking pretty, princesa. Mi amor, god, mi vida. You’re my fucking life, you know that? So gorgeous, angel, and all mine. Fuck, can’t believe you’re mine, baby.” Santi mumbles against your skin, finally releasing your nipple from his mouth. He continues peppering tiny kisses down your stomach, staring up at you as he does. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin even as he brings his hand up from your clothed cunt, tugging your skirt and panties down your legs. You can feel how soaked you’ve gotten, the way your thighs are slick with your arousal.

“Fuck, hermosa, what’s got you this wet, huh?” He grunts, his voice gravelly and rough.

“You, Santi, it’s all- it’s all you. Since the bar, baby, since before the bar. Fuck, always want you, Santiago, ‘m ready for you all the time.” You tilt your hips up with your words, your entrance throbbing and so desperate for his touch.

“God, bebita,” Santi groans. “Such a fucking slut, huh? You would’ve let me fuck you right in that bar, yeah? Just let me tug you into the bathroom and fuck you as hard as I want. Would've done it too, sweet girl, you get me so fucking hot. In these,” he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, and you twitch as you feel him breathe a warm gust of air right over your desperate pussy. “In these fucking little skirts you like to wear, god. Got the sexiest girl in the fucking world, yeah? Everyone wants you, but I’m the one who gets to have you. I get to have you for the rest of our lives, mi amor.” He’s so close, so fucking close to wear you need him most. “I get to fuck this sweet pussy for the rest of our lives, baby,” Santi breathes.

You nearly scream as he licks a long stripe up your cunt, lapping up some of the mess you’ve already made of yourself. He sucks your clit into his mouth, sucking at it hard and unrelenting. The sensation of it is almost too much, and your thighs clench around his head quickly, before Santi brings a hand up to grab at your inner thigh. He pulls you apart, keeping you spread for him as he licks and sucks and plays with you until you’re already shaking. He keeps you spread with only one of those strong hands, pressing his tongue harshly against your sensitive little clit, and you suddenly feel the thick presence of his other hand, a calloused digit sinking slowly, so slowly into your cunt.

“Santi, Santi, oh fuck, Jesus fucking Christ baby, it’s so- shit, it’s so,” you can hardly get the words out, especially as he crooks his finger up and presses it against your g-spot without any trouble. Santi groans against your clit, sinking yet another finger inside you along the first.

You should be used to it by now, after so long together, but every single time Santi fucks you, it’s like he’ll never get to do it again. He throws himself, his mind, body, his fucking soul, into only making you feel good. It’s nearly sacrilegious, how he worships you, praying with his tongue at the altar of your body.

But it’s not enough, not when you know how it feels when he’s inside, not when you’ve been thinking about his thick cock stretching you out until you feel like you’re about to break. You tangle a hand back into his hair, tugging him harshly away from your pussy. He keeps his fingers inside, spreading you apart as he looms over you, meeting your lips in a sticky kiss. His lips are sticky with your arousal, but you can’t bring yourself to care, gasping, “Please, baby, Santi fuck me, ‘m so empty, need to be filled up, need you to stuff me full.”

Santi grins, smug against you as he presses a third finger into your tight cunt, relishing in how your body jerks hard in response. “Just a little longer, baby,” he mutters, “Gotta make you cum first, right? Wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around my fingers, fuck baby, you’re so sexy. Want you to cum, princesa. Cum like you fucking deserve.”

You choke on a gasp as he hammers hard into you, overwhelmed tears filling your eyes as he abuses your g-spot with a practiced hand. You can feel your orgasm building inside, threatening to drown you in it’s severity, as Santi leans down again, whispering harshly, like it’s a threat, “Be a good little wife for me, baby, and cum. Now.”

And you can’t do anything but that, whining high as your pussy clenches and gushes all over Santi’s hand, your hips jerking wildly. Santi is murmuring little praises into your ear, but you can hardly hear him over the ringing in your head, the effort it takes to breathe properly again.

“You okay, mi amor? Need to stop?” Santi whispers, petting his hands across your thighs, calming, but your eyes snap open all the same.

“Santiago Garcia, if you leave me here without getting fucked, I’m filing for divorce.”

Your statement shocks a quick laugh out of your husband, but he leans down to kiss you all the same. “So greedy, mi amor,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you giggle as he stands quickly, shucking his pants and boxers off before kneeling between your spread legs again.

You gasp softly as he notches the head of his cock against the entrance of your abused cunt, winding your arms around his neck to tug him close. He presses in slowly, agonizingly slow, and you gasp against his mouth.

You’ve had Santi for years, but taking his cock always feels like the first time, all over again. He groans so lowly it almost sounds like a growl, holding your hips up to meet him as he finally bottoms out inside you. So deep he feels like he’s in your fucking stomach.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he groans over you, his eyes clenched shut. He draws his hips out and shoves back in quickly, and you can’t do anything but gasp wetly, nails digging into his shoulders as he breaks you open around his cock. “So tight for me, always so fucking perfect.”

“So big, Santi,” you slur dazedly. “Stretching me out so good, it’s so fucking deep, baby.”

“You like me deep, bebita? So deep I’m in your fucking guts? Gonna fill you up, princesa, shit. Get through that fucking birth control, yeah? Get you,” he fucks into you again, hard, “get you fucking pregnant, sweetheart.”

“Oh God,” you whine, mind swimming with the overwhelming mixture of Santi over you, surrounding you, inside you. Fucking you full of him, enough to render your IUD useless, get you pregnant no matter what. “Fuck, Santi, please.” He works himself in and out of you, his thick hands holding onto your hips hard enough to bruise.

“You want it, baby? Want me to fuck a baby into this little pussy? Shit, you’re sucking me in baby, so fucking desperate for it.” He shifts closer, just a little, lifting your hips further into the air to throw you hard onto his cock, and he can’t miss your sweet spot like this. His perfect cockhead just jams into your g-spot at an angle like this, and Santi knows it. “My needy little wife, you wanna cum on this cock? C’mon, do it. Wanna see it baby.”

Tears are finally escaping, leaking slowly from your eyes as Santi fucks into you like only he can, practiced, harsh, unrelenting. You can faintly hear yourself babbling, a mixture of praises, and pleases, and Santi’s name.

Santi brings a hand from your thigh to press a thick thumb to your over-sensitive clit, and you want to fucking scream. “C’mon baby, show me how good I’m giving you this cock. Show me how good I fuck this pretty pussy.”

“Yes, yes, yes, it’s so good, it’s so fucking good, gonna cum, oh god, gonna give you a baby, Santi, oh god, oh my fucking god-” you gasp, unable to get a full breath into your lungs before you’re cumming again, nails digging hard enough into Santi’s back that there will be marks, marks that Santi will tease you about later when he looks in the mirror, but you can’t care. Not when it feels like your body is on a live wire, muscles and nerves strung taught and pulled apart.

“Just like that, sweet girl,” Santi groans above you, his hips stuttering into you. “Fuck, just like that, so fucking tight for me. Fuck, you’re mine,” he mutters, barely even speaking to you at this point. “Can’t believe you’re fucking mine, mine forever.”

He’s lost in it, muttering to himself, and you tug him down, trying to ground him back to Earth against your lips as you whisper, “yours.”

Santi kisses you hard as he cums, emptying himself inside you. He wraps you in his strong arms, the both of you shaking softly against each other as you breathe through the aftershock of both your orgasms. He slips out of you at one point, and Santi takes the opportunity to roll you onto your sides. It’s quiet between the both of you for a few minutes as you brush a hand through Santi’s sweaty curls, and he brushes a thumb over your cheek, wiping any tears away.

“Love you so much, Santi,” you whisper after a while, and Santi smiles wide, wider than he ever had before he met you.

“I love you too, baby, more than I can describe.”

“Do you- do you think we could start trying? For a baby?” you whisper, tentative. There will be a bigger discussion tomorrow, about the future, especially if you throw children into the mix. But you need to know, for now.

“Mi amor, mi cielito,” Santi whispers, pecking you softly on the lips. “I would love nothing more.”

#breeding kink popped out a little with this one #BUT HAVE YOU SEEN SANTI #i wanna give him babies #also domesticity #he deserves it #anyway #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia fluff #pope garcia x reader #triple frontier x you #triple frontier smut #triple frontier x reader

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missmielyhoran · 3 years ago

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Imagine dating Harry during the Fine Line era and then having to listen to Cherry lmao can you write something like that? Pleaseee

I feel like I would have laughed tbh💀

Here you go...it's a short one

Warning- just fluff, bit of sad and insecure Y/N, I feel like I have written many sad shit lmao

*****

You were lying beside Harry on the studio floor. The carpet gave you a rug burn, but you could make sacrifice for your boy.

You were listening to his album with him. Both of you had one of the earphones connected to the phone playing songs, which would be out in 2 weeks. Lights up had just ended, and you were convinced it would be up in your top 3 with golden when soft guitar started playing.

Don't you call him baby...

You knew none of the songs were about you, but somehow, you knew this one might hurt you. Songs were a view inside Harry, how he feels, who he is, those lyrics are him being vulnerable and just like his songs, he's wonderful, a dreamy, a playful melody.

I just miss your accent and your friends...

It was very early in your relationship, and although you were convinced you were about to fall in love with him, you still had your insecurities. All of your friends warned you about him, and sometimes you would get inside your head and overthink his every action.

He never met your friends but he missed hers. She had beautiful french accent you don't, she's a model, beautiful, tall and has a amazing dressing sense which you call see Harry took inspiration from meanwhile you go out anywhere in joggers, most you do it wear jeans.

You were so different than her and you couldn't help but compare. Why would he date someone so...less than her unless you were just a moving part. A rebound from his last relationship, which was very much serious, what if your friends were right and he's still in love with her?

You didn't even realize the song had ended when you heard a woman's laugh, laugh, and then her beautiful accent. You were starting to get irritated cause why does she have to be so perfect?

It was a voicemail obviously left by her for him. The ceiling turned blurry as your eyes watered, you were feeling insecure, and didn't know if you should tell Harry or not. What if he thinks you're a whiny or a cry baby?

"Baby?" Suddenly, the ceiling was replaced by your boyfriend's beautiful face and his mop of curly hair.

"What's wrong?" He asked concerned, his eyes searching all over your face for any hint.

"Nothing it's just sad song" you fake laughed and whiped off your tears but Harry didn't buy it. He gave you a bored look and raised his eyebrows wanting the truth in answer.

You sighed and looked away from him to the space between you and him, "It's stupid" You mumbled.

He lifted your chin with his index finger and gave you a stern look, "Nothing is stupid when it comes to you and you wouldn't be crying if it was. Now chop chop tell me" He asked rolling over with you so now you very laying on his chest.

"Do-" You bit down on your lips and looked away again and started to pick on your cuticle, "Do you still have feelings for her?" You asked and then panicked, "Just- I mean, you started dating me so soon, and your relationship seemed so serious with her-"

"Oh sweetheart," Harry cooed and chuckled. He pulled you into him more, and you digged your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his smell and feeling comforted by it.

"Yes, my relationship with her was serious, but that doesn't mean you're anything less or just a rebound." He assured you, removing the hair that was fanned against the side of your face.

"I know it's too early to say this, but I knew the moment I saw you in that park sitting alone reading your book that you were the one." He kissed your head and snuggled more. You smiled against his neck and gave him a kiss, the mark from your lip gloss sitting there.

You had your doubts and thoughts, your anxiety always making worse out of things, but you also had Harry to shoo them away and protect you, give you a good cuddle whenever cold thoughts surrounded you.

*****

Thank you for requesting! you can request more or just talk to me here♡

Please Like, Comment and Reblog! Ily❤️

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #fine line harry styles #fine line era #angst harry #harry fluff

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kileaderie · 3 years ago

Text

[21:36 p.m.]

.||. Genre: Smut

.||. Warnings: dom!Jongho, sub!Reader, teasing, blindfolded, breast fucking, marking, light bondage, overstimulation, unprotected sex, etc.

Word Count: 880 Words.

Summary: Spicy night with your boyfriend, as he keeps testing your limits.

Author's Note: How long has it been? More than 3 months yeh hehehe, enjoy my work cause I am busy with my university life ooft.

A gentle feeling moves up the outside of your thighs. Delicate fingertip glides across them. His breath touched your chest, then his mouth wrapped around your already swollen nipple, his tongue softly licking. Your eyelashes brushed across the silk fabric of your blindfold, causing you to whimper.

As he nibbled on your nipple, he shifted his hand to pinch and play with your other, laying over yours. His other hand went down your side, resting at your waist. As he went to divert his attention to your ear, your nipple felt a blast of frigid air. As you moaned softly, he bit on your lobe.

"I like the way you sound, so beautiful." He growled.

"Jongho, please.."

"Relax, you're so impatient."

You sighed in frustration. He was really taking his time tonight. You felt him shift his knees to either side of you as you craved his touch... only to realize how much he had planned to tease you tonight. The tip of his dick brushed against your belly button.

You sighed, "Jongho..."

"Shh...I want you to feel me all over the place."

You felt him trace his tip all the way down your stomach, then circle each breast before pressing his hands together and sliding his dick between them. He moved slowly forward and back, his tip grazing your chin as you realized how hard he was.

His hands were firm against your breasts, and you could feel his movements becoming less and less restrained. He let go of your breasts, and you wept for the loss of his touch. He then ran his finger up and down your nose.

"You are absolutely perfect for me tonight."

"Allowing me to use you. Every single part of you."

"You'll have to thank me later for giving you such treatment, Y/n."

As he ran his fingers along your slit, you felt his body weight lay across you. You couldn't help but squirm, and he responded with a hand pressing down on your hip, holding you in place while sliding fingers inside you.

"You're way too wet for me.."

"Maybe I should make you wait this long all the time.."

You grumbled and you got a small laugh out of him. He took his fingers off your cunt and raised your legs so that your hips met his. He positioned himself in front of your entrance and finally began to fuck you properly.

The rope tightened around your wrists as he thrust into you, slowly at first, methodically, then quickly as his hands squeezed on your hips. You knew you'd wake up with bruises, and you knew how much he'd enjoy seeing his marks on you.

You moaned as you sensed him losing control. He'd been so preoccupied with trying to tease you that he'd been holding himself back, and you could tell he wasn't going to be able to do so much longer.

He shifted his weight across you, more of his body weight. As his thrusts became less and less controlled, he buried his head in the crook of your neck and began sucking and biting your skin. As you shrieked and he grunted, your hips bucked to meet his thrusts. Your sounds piqued his interest even more as his movements became less precise. His hands moved down from your hips to grab your ass.

"J-Jongho!"

You screamed, feeling his cock twitch inside you. You could tell he was close, his breathing was hard, fast, and becoming increasingly audible. He let out a loud moan as you felt him spill inside of you, hips twitching and fingers digging into your ass cheeks to the point of pain. You were both panting and gasping for air.

Jongho is still inside of you, moving in and out slowly. You whimpered, feeling exhausted. He untied your blindfold as his hands reached to lift your head. You opened your eyes to see his contented face untying your wrists.

He threw the restraints off the bed and continued slowly thrusting into you. He also noticed your wrist was slightly bruised as he brushed your hair behind your ear. He then looked you in the eyes lovingly.

"I want to fuck you again, I want to see your eyes roll to the back of your head. Care for another round, baby?"

The possibility of him repeatedly fucking you over and over again, excites you. "Yes, please go ahead."

He smiled and grabbed your arm, kissing the back of your hand before repositioning it on each side of your head. He entwined your fingers with him, and his lips pressed against yours in a passionate kiss. His thrusts quickened, and you sighed, hips bucking up to meet them. He kissed your neck mark and stares at you.

"Y/n, come on. Let me see your eyes rolled back." He grunts as he picks up speed.

"A-ah, hold on, it's too much-" You sighed and whimpered.

He doesn't stop, thrusting in and out quickly until he achieves his goal. As you approached your orgasm, you moaned loudly, your back arched, and your eyes rolled back. He flashed a smile and started kissing your lips until his seeds spilled inside of you again. You both panted after staring at each other for a few moments.

"You're so obedient..."

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cathedral-of-sinners · 3 years ago

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yo!!can i ask B, D, F, T for kaeya🥺🥺

love, trukaeyasimp2022😇 (i love u too)

Hi anon, yes you may 🥺

I actually got a request to do all the letters for Mr. Cavalry Captain so you're about to get more than what you bargained for! (He’s a fave of mine so it’s not like I’m complaining)

CW: Bondage (K), Masturbation (K), Blowjob (C), Degradation (N), Riding (I), no gendered terms/genitalia for reader, reader can be seen as either sub, dom or both depending on the letter, might be a little all over the place since Kaeya is a really complicated man (I love him sm but god do I think one or two or seven of these are OOC 😭😭)

— Kaeya: Full Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Softer and cuddly! Like, he needs to have one of you tucking your nose into the crook of the other’s neck while being held close (chest-to-chest or with one of you on your back and the other cuddled into the others side doesn't matter to him). Absolutely has to be touching/caressing you in someway too. Usually it’s Kaeya simply having a hand against your back/shoulders, lovingly tracing your bare skin, his touch feather light as his nails barely make contact. Anything to ground him and make sure this wasn't just some dream. (Sort of unrelated but please pet his hair he’ll melt so fast it’s adorable)

If it was one of your rougher/meaner sessions you can be sure he’s whispering praises right up until you fall asleep. He wants to make sure you know how well you did and that he loves you very much. Def presses kisses to your forehead/temple/cheek as well!

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of their partners)

The hip/ass/thigh area. Kaeya could stare for hours, no joke. You could be walking away from him and out his office and he'd be daydreaming about gripping your skin while fucking you, the squish of your flesh perfect in his large palms. Or you're honestly just sitting across the room from him doing your own thing and his gaze wanders to where your ass meets the sit. Yeah, he wants to touch. Maybe a little nibble too <3

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Kaeya's mesmerized at how his cum decorates your face! The way drops of his seed look on you after you finish blowing him has the captain's heart racing and the widest smirk on his face.

D = Dirty Secret

Answered here!

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

A wise fanfic once wrote how Kaeya wouldn't even show his eye so there's no way rumors about him sleeping around would be true and it's changed me and my views greatly. So, I believe Kaeya is a virgin HOWEVER! I think, in order to get information, he's done some subtle touching (a hand on the waist, running his fingers up and down their back, leaning in close, the like) but never has he penetrated or been penetrated by another.

F = Favourite Position

Either with you bent over something, doggy or you on your back with Kaeya standing/kneeling between your legs (depends on where you’re doing the do and how needy he is). All three have it where he can easily latch onto your hips!

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Leans more on the humorous side in the beginning but in the middle and towards the end just before you’re both about to cum he grows serious. It’s the same if he were subbing too, though he’d be just a little less quick witted while being at your mercy.

Like, I can definitely see you on your back and Kaeya trying/outright tickling you??? Just for the fuck of it too??? Maybe to lighten the mood before getting down n' dirty idk????

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Groomed well, if not just a little bushy/overgrown! Kaeya takes it upon himself to stay well presented, regardless if anyone was to see those parts of him or not.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Kaeya can be romantic if the mood calls for it. He has no problem in showing this side either, both in actions and words.

“You’re stunning, you know that?” He’ll whisper, the faintest of his usually light hearted tone in his voice. You're sat facing him as he makes the effort so slow his thrusts, focusing on reaching deeper rather than anything else. Hands that are more often than not hidden behind gloves will come up to cup your face, his skin warm and uncovered as he pulls you into tender kiss after tender kiss.

Oh, and he isn’t above doing cheesy/cliché displays either - rose petals, candles, some wine and music, he’ll do it all.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Jacks off almost anywhere?? But it’s like he wants to get caught too?? What a menace (affectionate).

At home he’ll leave the door just slightly ajar. Goes at it in plain view within his office knowing that you’ll be paying him a visit soon. Either behind the tavern or in the bathroom because Kaeya knows sooner or later you’ll come looking for him. Even if you don’t it’s fine, he’s good at hiding after all. He’ll just finish up where he is and return back to you :)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Temperature play. A common one I know but honestly? The cute little gasps of pleasure you make at the unexpected touch of cyro makes his stomach do flips <33 He loves it so much I swear. He does it at random too so you never expect it!

Mutual masturbation/JOI. This one I can't describe why exactly Kaeya would like it but I know for a fact he'd fucking love it. Maybe it has to do with the intimacy, of doing something 'private' only a little ways away from one another. Or how he can now see every expression you make while also witnessing your body's reactions. Regardless, Kaeya loves to see you work yourself to your high, it's just an added bonus that he was able to guide you to it, the addition of velvety smooth words ("that's it, just like that") a special treat <3

Bondage. The idea of being laid out before you, no barrier between his figure and your roaming eyes is exciting to Kaeya. The way you drink him in has his heart rate accelerating and his cock twitching. Similarly, if you're the one tied, he loves how easy he can access all of you and, again, how exposed you are for him. He loves you so much and you're a literal work of art, how could he not want to see every bit of you?

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere in your home will suffice - living room, kitchen, in the hall, the bedroom, it’s all good in Kaeya’s book since he gets to ravage you (or be ravaged) to the fullest.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Praise and alluding to the dirty in public!! Praise (expanded on a little more in N) since it not only stokes his ego but just genuinely makes him feel good. Then for public happenings it’s cause I like the idea of shy Kaeya who, after seeing you - lets say - push your tongue against the inside of your cheek from across Angels Share, can’t get the image of you out of his head and- oh would you look at that he’s hard now. Guess you two gotta go somewhere and fix that ;)

Ok so actually that can be chalked up to you initiating gets him going. The tongue and cheek trick, palming his already growing erection through his tight pants, things like this get him going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Heavy, heavy degradation - both to himself and you. There is a line he refuses to cross with you even if you say you like it. He’d find his movements stuttering, face scrunching and maybe even his stomach a little ill should he step - to what he believes- is too far. As for himself, Kaeya partially feeds off of what people say to and about him, no matter how much he acts otherwise, and you’re at the top of the list on who he listens to most. Your genuine compliments and praises outside the moment mean everything to him, your supposed pleasuring insults are no different.

Some degrading is okay, but do be mindful of how much and what you say. You know you've gone too far (or are very close to doing so) when he says something along the lines of, "hey now, that wasn't very nice," or "that was kinda mean, don't you think?" He'll say it in that indifferent, sort of joking tone too to try and cover it and play it off as a humorous moment.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

A natural born with his tongue, Kaeya prefers giving just because he gets to see how you writhe in pleasure, hips bucking up with a symphony of pants and moans slowly becoming louder as he goes on. Maintains eye contact if he can because he knows it gets your insides doing flips.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually starts out at a pretty steady pace before leading into something faster. He always makes sure to hit every spot he knows that has you moaning his name.

Even if he's had a tiring day he still somehow manages the energy to pound into you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Answered here!

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Further in your relationship, experimental and riskier endeavors are an absolute. There were just some things you both had been unable to bring up before while things were still fresh between you two.

His personal favourite is to get risky n' frisky in his office (with in/behind the tavern a close second).

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Answered here!

T=Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Before meeting you Kaeya only had a select few, the 'basics' to get him through to climax.

His favourite toy - although simple - is a vibrator. "Small but mighty," he'd tell you. The possibilities are endless and oh how he can't wait to try them all.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be such a tease >:( He teases you with both words and actions about 8 out of 10 times. You want him to touch you? How about he blows some cool air instead? A kiss? Ya gotta earn it. Your own orgasm? He’s suddenly tired and now you have to do it yourself. Go on, he knows you can do it <3

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Somewhat loud - you just make him feel so good, he can't help it and it's only fair you get to know - but does have the ability to stay quiet. He makes sure he's right up against your ear too so you can catch every groan and pant of his (maybe that's why he seems so loud?). Don't worry thought, it wouldn't catch the attention of passersby. They'd have to be stopped and actively listening to hear Kaeya.

Tease him just right though and he'll let out the loudest but most gorgeous moan that you'd be afraid it alerted the neighbors if you were in a clearer state of mind.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The first time you had sex with Kaeya was probably the most vanilla but gentle, heart barring session of your lives. It was his first time in general but it was also his first with someone he truly loves. He wanted to show you that he trusts and cherishes you - that you’re 'the one'.

With how flirty he can be, it took a surprising amount of time before Kaeya started teasing you in bed, being a little more playful, kinky. Above all else though, he became tremendously confident in what he was doing, hesitating much less than he did previously when it came to touching you or initiating/provoking you.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Kaeya's been blessed with length more than girth and he knows how to use this to his advantage. A prominent vein dances along the side of his cock.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Honestly not as high as you may think! Kaeya's swamped with work 85% of the time: paperwork, patrols, investigations, training new recruits and so on. By time he has any down time or gets home all that's on his mind is to kick his boots off and have a drink before laying down.

However, when his desires are fed any sort of spark they have the potential to burn for hours after. Clear your schedule cause you're not going anyway until he's satisfied.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It takes a little for the hammering of his heart to die down but within half an hour he’s out. Tries to make sure you’re comfy, cleaned up and at least close to falling asleep before he begins drifting off (unless you were the one in control that night. Then he’s actually tucked safely in your arms after having been cleaned up and is out faster than usual).

#kaeya x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #—v writes

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ladycatofwinterfell · 2 years ago

Text

Devotion

Summary: He loves his wife so dearly and still he has loved Robert for as long as he can remember. He despises Robert for knocking on their door so late at night and yet he follows him outside

Did someone say nedbert fic? Did someone also say nedcat fic? Probably not but that’s what I have for you. Enjoy!

Catelyn’s skin was so soft as he kissed it. He could feel the smell of her hair as he nuzzled her nose into the crook of her neck. The sweet, somewhat flowery scent. The scent of his lady.

The way she flushed red as he kissed her, it never grew any less lovely. Starting at her cheeks, travelling down her neck and over her chest. It rose and fell with every breath she took, increasing in speed as her breathing quickened. Quick, shallow breaths escaping slightly parted lips. Perfect lips.

Her eyes gleamed as he opened her robe, let his lips run down her chest. Gently he kissed every inch of her that he could reach, ran his tongue over every mark and line that bearing their children had left on her, listened to the way her breath hitched as he hit a spot she liked particularly much. He lingered there until her hands in his hair forced him lower. She had only so much patience.

He placed a kiss just beneath her navel before standing upright again, looking into her eyes.

“I do love that stomach of yours” he told her.

The lines that had turned almost silver since Rickon’s birth never ceased to strike him as the most beautiful thing. He loved how soft all their children had turned her, how one could tell she had given him heirs.

“So put another child in it” she said, smiling. “It would be even more beautiful then.”

She took his hands, slowly backing towards the bed with him following. Never did she look away from him, never did her smile leave her lips.

As she sat on the edge of the bed he kneeled before her. For a moment he turned his face up, drank in the sight of her. Stronger than any wine he had ever tasted. Her hair falling over her shoulders, gleaming like fire in the light of the heart. Her flushed cheeks, her soft smile.

“My love” she sighed. “You are going awfully slow.”

“Am I?”

He placed a quick kiss on the inside of her knee. Barely had he leaned away again before she had woven her fingers into his hair once more. He expected her to bring his mouth to between her legs where she so clearly wanted him to be, but instead she leaned down to kiss him.

“Make love to me” she whispered as they parted. “Please.”

As he stood up and began to undress she shed her robe and threw it to the foot of the bed. Taking one’s clothes off required no large amount of intelligence, but his hands seemed to grow worthless as he looked upon his wife.

Though soon he was in her arms, settling between her legs. Was there a sweeter feeling than the pleasure of their bodies joining? Was there a prettier sound than Catelyn’s soft moan as he pushed inside her? Was there a more beautiful sight than seeing her tilt her head slightly backwards, her lips parted and her eyelids heavy?

The thought barely had time to disappear from his mind before someone knocked on the door.

“My lord, the king–“ began a soft voice.

Desmond was interrupted by a banging on the door so hard Ned for a moment feared it would fall of its hinges.

He heard how Catelyn drew a sharp breath beneath him, though not from pleasure. When he looked at her he noticed she had turned her eyes towards the door, looking at it like a frightened deer.

“Ned!” shouted a man on the other side.

There was no mistaking Robert’s voice. If only Robert had not been king. If only he had been the man Ned knew in his youth, the friend he had grown up alongside. If only he had been simply Robert.

“I know you’re in there!”

Catelyn had pushed him off her before he had time to move himself.

“What an honour to have the king knocking on my door” she muttered as she reached for her robe again. “I wonder whatever reason he could have for it.”

Ned had to walk naked through the chamber to take his own robe from the wardrobe. After having wrapped it around himself he threw a glance at Catelyn to make sure she was covered. She was once again sitting on the edge of the bed, that time with the robe completely covering her body and a rather disgruntled look on her face. Her hair was still somewhat messy from the pillows.

“Good evening, Your Grace” Ned said as he opened the door. “How come you knock on my wife’s chamber door so late at night?”

“I want to speak with her husband.”

Despite that it was so late at night Robert did not appear to be drunk. There was not even a slight slur as he spoke, he didn’t sway on his feet. During the king’s time in Winterfell he hadn’t been sober once, at least as far as Ned was aware.

It was strange to see him so calm after he had almost beaten the door off its hinges. Maybe he just didn’t know how to properly knock. There was so much force in him.

“Can we not speak on the morrow?” Ned asked.

He would rather go back to his bed and his wife. Most nights he spent with her he made sure they knew he would rather not be disturbed. Not always because there was something to interrupt the way Robert had, but because he enjoyed having a calm night with his lady. At that very moment all he wished was that Robert had respected what poor Desmond told him. It had been almost two weeks since he and Catelyn had last found peace enough to lay with each other.

“I’m the king and I want to speak with you now.”

“I’m sure my lady wife–“ he began, only to be betrayed by the lady wife in question.

Catelyn had left the bed and moved to stand beside him. He could feel her place a hand on his lower back.

“He’s all yours, Your Grace” she said.

Her hand on his back said something else. Though she had little choice. Robert was a king. Ned could protest because the king was his friend, she could not. He wished she had let him talk Robert out of it.

“Might he dress first?” Ned asked.

If he was to leave the chamber he wanted more clothes than a robe.

Robert looked at him for a moment, his eyes turning downwards as if he hadn’t really noticed Ned was wearing nothing but his robe.

“In this seven times damned cold you’d freeze your cock off if you didn’t. And we wouldn’t want that, would we, Catelyn?”

Ned was surprised at the chuckle that came from his wife at that.

“No, it would pain me” she said.

Catelyn had never been ashamed of particularly much, merely proper. Aware of how she presented herself without being dismayed at most everything. His sometimes rather bawdy lords had taken a liking to her quickly after she became their lady. And still Ned was taken aback by her reaction.

“Not more than it would pain me” he told her.

Robert laughed at that. His laugh was as loud and booming as ever, even as he wasn’t drunk.

If he had to choose there were other parts of him he would rather lose to frostbite. A couple of fingers he could do without, he’d like to keep his manhood.

“I’d have to dress in black for mourning” Catelyn said.

Once again Robert laughed. Ned could feel himself smiling, somewhat against his will. Catelyn gave him a look that tattled on just how satisfied she was with herself at the moment before drawing back into the room again. As he looked at Robert again he heard how she opened a drawer of her dressing table.

“Black never was my wife’s colour so to spare her from having to wear it I’ll get dressed” he told Robert. “I shall be with you shortly.”

“I’ll be waiting for you outside the keep.”

He only had time to close the door and turn back to face the room again before Catelyn’s lips were on his. One hand in his hair and the other opening his robe again.

“What are you doing?” Ned managed to get out.

“Twice he’s taken you from me, and soon he’s doing it again” Catelyn said rather firmly. “He can wait a little while, it will not kill him.”

“You want me to go south with him.”

Even before Lysa’s letter she had urged him to go, told him it was necessary. For the future of their house, for all it could give them, he had to go south. And after the letter it was to protect Robert and uncover the truth.

“I wish he had never come here, but I know you have to go. You couldn’t refuse his offer.”

He leaned down to catch her lips in another kiss. They had already spoken about it, he felt no desire to do so again. And it would be unwise to keep Robert waiting for too long. Catelyn seemed to agree with him.

The sense of urgency took the enjoyment out of it, at least for him. And he noticed as he tried to make Catelyn reach her pleasure with a hand that it took much longer than it usually did. The frustration was apparent on her face even after he managed to touch her in a way that made her come undone. As she pushed him to his back and straddled him it was hard to think of anything but that she didn’t look very satisfied.

“Catelyn, we don’t–“ he began.

If she didn’t want it he didn’t want to do it.

“No, I need it.”

He couldn’t remember it having been so bad since they grew close with each other. Since it had been so much more duty than pleasure. His body told him it felt good but his mind seemed to be of a different opinion, he had to focus to be able to come at all. Even as she seemed to use every trick she knew.

They stay joined for a moment after he had finished and Catelyn seemed to soften then. As she leaned down and kissed him before moving away. He was glad for that kiss.

Ned was silent as he dressed, his wife was just as silent. She pulled the furs over herself and turned her back to him, he would have believed her to be asleep if it hadn’t been for that her breathing was wrong. It had started so good, he had liked it so much, slowly taking in every inch of her. Then it had all been ruined. He felt somewhat filthy for a reason he could not say.

“I will not object should you wake me upon your return” she mumbled just as he was about to leave. “If that is your wish, of course.”

Usually those words would have him seeing the beauty of it before him. His mind spinning, dreaming of how he would come back to find her still wet and wanting for him, how he would take her again. He would most likely feel it later. When he came back knowing what she had promised him.

“Hopefully I won’t be long.”

The sky was clear above them, the moon and the stars watching over the castle. The clear nights were the coldest, whatever reason could Robert have for wanting to go outside? He had done nothing but complain about cold and summer snows since he arrived there.

Robert stood and looked up at the starry sky with a member of his king’s guard next to him. Only as Ned came closer to them did he see it was Ser Jaime. One could never escape the damn Lannisters.

“Robert” Ned said.

He had meant to call him by his royal title, but his name was what had escaped. It seemed he would never get used to it.

“Leave us, Ser Jaime” Robert said instead of greeting Ned in return.

“Your Grace, it is my duty to–“

“Ned, when was someone last murdered within your castle walls?”

Then Robert looked down at him, his eyes could have been stars. He had been so handsome once, what had happened? Was it the throne that had made him so or had it been inevitable? Was it grief over what had happened during the war that had made him resort to drinking? Or had he always been to fond of the pleasures of life?

“Hasn’t happened during my time as lord” Ned responded. “Not in my lifetime, I believe.”

Not that he could remember. Though there had been no kings to visit in his lifetime.

“And do you believe your people to be loyal to their king?”

He knew the people of his castle, almost as if they were his own blood. They wouldn’t harm a king, even a southern one.

“I do.”

“Listen to Lord Stark and leave us.”

The hand that rested on the hilt of his sword seemed to grip a little tighter.

“Yes, my king.”

The bitterness in Jaime’s voice shone through, at least to Ned.

Robert began walking away, seemingly without a clear plan as to where. Ned followed him, but glanced over his shoulder at Ser Jaime. He had moved to stand by the doors to the keep together with the household guards, seemingly opting to not go inside. He had to be cold in that armour, it wasn’t meant for the North.

“Cersei has started asking to return south sooner than planned” Robert told him.

“I’m not surprised.”

While she remained civil at least in front of Catelyn she had also made it no secret that she disliked the north. Too cold, too dull, too stern. Without colour and life. Ned would have taken offence if it hadn’t been for that many people of the south shared her opinion.

“She’s a thorn in my side, the golden bitch.”

“And still you need her.”

Robert might have disliked his queen, but she was still his queen. Her children were Robert’s heirs, the eldest would be king after him.

“I need her family’s money.”

That couldn’t be denied.

“Do you love Catelyn?” Robert then asked.

Was there another word for it? She was his Cat, had been so for years. He appreciated her company more than anyone else’s, didn’t see the appeal in other people’s beds anymore. She was the one he desired, the one he felt safe with. It had been that way for years.

“I do” he said.

After all their years together, after everything they had slowly built, how could he not? They had made children, given each other love.

“You didn’t marry her for love.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He had married her for her father’s armies. The rest had come later. Of course he hadn’t been happy about leaving her behind in Riverrun during the rebellion, she was his wife after all, but he hadn’t really missed her. When he left her to beat back the Greyjoys as she was expecting Arya it had hurt. He had missed her, spent the nights thinking about the day when he could be back in her arms again.

“When did you know it was love?”

Maybe during the Greyjoy rebellion. Maybe when she placed Sansa in his arms for the first time. Maybe when she kissed him after he told her he was to build her a sept. Maybe when he returned from the Greyjoy rebellion and they made love to each other from sunset to sunrise.

“You have an awful lot of questions.”

And Ned didn’t have an answer to all of them. When had he known it was love? He couldn’t say. He couldn’t remember the first time he had thought of that he loved her. He couldn’t remember first time he had told her he loved her. He just knew he did.

“It feels unfair you get to love your wife while mine gives me nothing but hell” was Robert’s response to that.

“You are free to love whoever you wish, you’re the king” Ned reminded him. “And your queen has given you children, they cannot possibly be hell.”

“You get to be happy in your marriage, you don’t understand.”

No, he didn’t understand. He was aware of that Cersei Lannister wasn’t as sweet as she looked, he understood Robert wasn’t happy with her. But the misery of their existence together that he had glimpsed during their time in Winterfell, that he didn’t understand.

“Your marriage to her certainly hasn’t stopped you from looking elsewhere.”

Ned almost believed the whores in Wintertown had grown richer than he was during the royal visit. According to Catelyn both Tyrion Lannister and the king were generous in their payments. She had overheard it from two of the women in the kitchen as she went there to search for Bran and Rickon. ‘Soon we’ll be able to raise the taxes without them complaining’ she had muttered.

“Though I will never share a life with someone worth loving. The fucking Targaryens took that from me.”

In the end everything always came back to Lyanna. No matter where they turned, no matter where they walked, it was always her. And even she was just a fantasy for him. She hadn’t wanted to marry him, especially not after he had his first bastard.

“You didn’t know her like I did” Ned said. “You don’t know what they took from you.”

He braced himself for the anger that would flare up in Robert as he said it, though nothing came. The fury of the Baratheons stayed calm.

“We should have been family, you and I. Not spend the rest of our lives apart from one another. You up here, buried beneath winter snows and I stuck in that city forsaken by the gods.”

As they turned around a corner Robert stopped and looked at Ned once more. A visible shiver went through his body and he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. It must have been the largest cloak Ned had ever seen. Golden with a crowned black stag embroidered on it. A cloak for for a king.

“When you return to that city I’m coming with you.”

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. He didn’t want to leave Catelyn and two of his sons behind in Winterfell, he would despise every moment of it. King’s Landing wasn’t where he belonged. Though still there was a small joy in knowing it would mean less of a burden for his friend. He had known Robert since they were boys, loved Robert since they were boys.

“That’s the only relief I have” Robert chuckled. “Knowing it will be you and I again. Gods, those were better times.”

“Well, they were certainly easier.”

Everything had been so easy. Spending their days doing whatever they wanted, taking every chance they got to drive Jon halfway to madness. He was sure Catelyn would have been wide eye and stuttering had she got to know half of it.

“Less of a charm to it now that Jon won’t be there to yell at us when we take things too far” he added.

“In his last years it was mostly the other way around, but damn I miss the man.”

And Ned hadn’t even been there when he died. It had been years since the last time he saw Jon Arryn. And now Jon Arryn was dead and all that remained of his youth was Robert.

“As do I.”

Ned looked up at the clear sky above them, at the stars. Did Jon look down on them from one of the seven heavens he had believed in? Did he know? Did he fear for Robert as Ned did?

Suddenly Robert had taken him by the arm and forced him to look down again.

“I’ll never let you leave me again, Ned” he said.

“Was it me who left you? I’m not the one who came out of the war a king.”

“You left me down south.”

“I became Lord of Winterfell, I had no choice.”

“You could have had a seat on my council.”

“And who was to govern the North? My boy of less than a year? My southron bride?”

“I don’t care, damnit, I care about having you by my side.”

“And I will be.”

Many years ago they had walked different paths and Ned had been sure of that he would never be side by side with Robert again. Though there he stood with Robert holding his arm. There was a desperation for in his eyes Ned could not recall having ever seen before. Anger, joy, grief, lust, fear, he had seen it all. But he hadn’t seen desperation.

There were traces of the beauty he had possessed in his youth still left in him. His eyes were the same, clear and blue. His hair and beard black as coal. As Robert held his arm they were so close to each other their breaths became one cloud between them when they looked at each other.

“Like when we were young” Robert said.

“Like when we were young.”

Except for that it was different, so very different. Or maybe it was Ned that remembered it wrong. Neither of them were shaven clean anymore, and Robert’s body against his didn’t immediately feel right. It could have been all the years with Catelyn that made it so. Though they were not so unlike each other, there was a hunger in them.

Robert moved his hands to Ned’s shoulders as they kissed, held onto him as if he would suddenly disappear. Ned didn’t know when he had grabbed the front of Robert’s clothes, burying his fists in the fabric, he just knew he was doing it.

He was the king’s man, was he not? The king’s hand. What was he to do if not serve? If not show Robert his devotion?

Before he knew it Robert’s hands on his shoulders had pushed him down on his knees. Gods, he was strong. Not as strong as he had been when they were young, but still enough for it to be impressive. Strong enough for Ned to be in awe.

It had been so long since Ned kneeled for a man. Since he had wed Catelyn he had stayed loyal to her, even if he in the beginning had been somewhat put off by the idea of her. She was a woman, he had never been very drawn to them. Though he had found that women worked as well as men, at least she did. She was the only woman he had ever been with. The only one he had loved.

Still he didn’t hesitate, moved his hands up to undo the laces of Robert’s breeches. With his gloves on it was somewhat hard, but he managed it. He knew neither of them could take off their gloves in the cold, but he would have liked to feel the roughness of Robert’s hands again.

He was already hard when Ned wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and took the tip into his mouth. The taste of salt as he licked off the fluid that had already spilled from him was somehow surprising. He had forgotten he somehow enjoyed it.

Robert grabbed his hair, forced him to take him deeper. He had to suppress the urge to gag, stopped for a moment to breathe through his nose so that he wouldn’t suffocate. He was rusty.

Though Robert didn’t seem to have anything to complain about. At least as far as Ned could tell from the sounds he made when he began moving his head. Running his lips and tongue up and down his cock.

Robert was rather rough, didn’t seem to consider Ned’s comfort at all, he didn’t care so much. He had always been rough, Ned had never minded. As he came close to reaching his pleasure he began thrusting into Ned’s mouth and once again he almost gagged. For a moment he wondered what it was that made him different from the whores of Wintertown then and there. Could it be anything but love?

“Ned” Robert groaned, tightening the grip on his hair.

Then Ned moved away, sitting back on his heels. He was out of breath as he looked up at the king.

“I’m too old to swallow” he told him.

His knees were aching. Soft snow covered the ground and still it hurt to kneel. His neck had also seen better days. Since last time he had grown old.

Robert finished himself with a hand as Ned found his feet again. As it was all over he felt cold. He had left Catelyn in her bedchamber only to go and do that. And while he couldn’t say he had not enjoyed it he knew it was all wrong.

“Too old to swallow, but the years have not taken your skilled tongue from you” Robert said, sounding just as out of breath.

“I have maintained it.”

He bent down to brush snow from his clothes. It had already began to melt, leaving wet patches on him.

Catelyn was also rather fond of his tongue and he didn’t mind using it. There was a pleasure in pleasing, in tasting and listening to what it made the other feel.

“I don’t know if I envy you or Cat more.”

Ned was fairly certain of that he himself didn’t envy neither Robert nor Cersei in the least. He missed Robert, he did. Though was it right? What he had done, was it the right thing? Most likely not. But then and there it had felt good.

“Why would you envy her?”

“Your hers, are you not?”

Ned had never known Robert to hesitate about taking what he wanted. Why was he saying that when he had already taken Ned? He was leaving his home, his wife, to serve Robert.

He couldn’t look at Robert any longer, turned his back to him. He waited until the king had laced up his breeches before he began walking back towards the keep. The night didn’t seem so pleasant anymore, the stars must have judged him.

Robert followed him, silent for once. All Ned heard was his heavy steps, the snow that creaked under his feet.

Ser Jaime was still standing by the doors to the keep, Ned didn’t look at him as one of the guards opened the door so he could enter.

“The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair” Jaime muttered as Ned passed him.

“Better that than a kingslayer.”

All the way up until when he was about to pass her door he was certain of that he was walking towards his own bedchamber. He could not join her in her bed after having pleasured the king with his mouth. Though she had to be asleep by then. He knew his wife, she had probably been asleep before he had closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to be alone. It was selfish.

Just as he had suspected Catelyn was asleep when he entered her chamber. Curled up underneath the furs, just as she had been when he left her. Lost in her peaceful slumber, unknowing. His wife, his Catelyn. What had he done?

He undressed as quietly as he could, did everything to avoid waking her despite that he knew she always slept heavily. Ever since Rickon no longer needed her attention at night she had been near impossible to accidentally wake.

He didn’t take her into his arms, merely slipped into the bed beside her and turned his back to her. It would have felt wrong to do so as if nothing had happened. Though of course he had barely settled before she had turned to him in her sleep and laid an arm over him, her hand resting on his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to push her away even as the betrayal hung over him like a sword above a doomed man’s neck. Instead he took her hand, weaved their fingers together, held them over his heart. The familiarity of it was almost overwhelming. How was he to survive leaving her behind in Winterfell?

“Too tired?” she sighed.

It took a moment for him to realise she was awake, that she was not merely mumbling in her sleep.

“Exhausted” he responded gently.

She moved even closer to him, pressed herself against him. Even as she had been beneath the furs she was cold.

“Me too.”

He felt how she placed a gentle kiss on his neck before letting her head rest against the pillows again. A moment later she had drifted off to sleep once more.

She had told Robert Ned was all his, that was most likely not what she had meant.

#catelyn stark #ned stark #ned x cat #robert baratheon #nedbert #ned x robert #my fic #i really like how this turned out so i hope you will like it as well #not the most positive ive written perhaps but still worth the read (in my not so humble opinion)#ned’s relationships with those closest to him fascinates me

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lemonjoonah · 4 years ago

Text

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

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