#which was just her hovering her hand above the painful place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xoxomoonlightxoxo · 4 months ago

Text

The Girl That Disappeared | Suspect #2 JJK

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

✧ Synopsis: It was a gloomy Friday evening when you felt the mists of melancholy pulse through your veins, aching body floating above the deep water. Squeezing your eyes shut, your lips trembled with fear. You didn’t want to die, but you sure as hell didn’t want to live. Not in this town. Not with the people in it. So, why don’t you just disappear? Leave them to search for the remnants of who you had been before you realised that life is more painful than death. Park Jimin. Kim Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. Best-friend, step-brother, and an ex-lover. Although their paths had never crossed before that gloomy Friday evening, their names, printed in bold, now remained on the top of the suspect list. Stories entangled in your mystery.

✧ w/c: 6.1k ✧ a/n: a lot is going on here but please let me know what you think, mwuah 💓 ✧ taglist: @kookieandjoonberries @whoa-jo @taevestr @smoljimjim @kookxin

@11thenightwemet11 @xumyboo @kingofbodyrolls @jksusawife

“Y/n-ah! I’m leaving, please turn on the security,” your mother’s voice echoed from the entrance as you heard the front door close. She was working on-call today, and while it seemed like you finally had an opportunity to spend some quality time together, the hospital rang her in for an emergency operation at the last minute.

“Okay, love you,” you yelled from your room, picking up the laundry off the floor before heading downstairs. No one was home. Mr. Kim had a night shift and wouldn’t be back until later and only God knew where Taehyung was.

Scrolling through your phone, you smiled at the photos Jimin sent you from his parent’s ranch house. It’s been a week since he left, and you couldn’t help but miss him. The two of you haven’t gone this long without seeing each other, so it felt weird not being able to call him over.

“Y/n, it’s so nice here, you would’ve loved it,” he smiled through the phone, resting his head on the soft pillow.

“I bet,” you whined.

“Next time, you’re coming with me, okay? There’s this waterfall I’ve been dying to show you,”

“Okay … I missed you Jimin-ah,” your voice broke, glossy eyes looking down at the teddy bear he got for your birthday.

“Y/n-ie, you know I missed you more,” Jimin moved in closer, placing a kiss on his front camera as you glanced up.

“Now, get some sleep, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mmhm,”

“Goodnight,” you whispered with a little wave.

“Sleep tight, angel,”

He never called after that. All your attempts went straight to voicemail. It was strange, Jimin always valued communication, and never was the type to let you wonder about his whereabouts. Kept you posted even with a little “k”, just to signify that he got the message. But, now, it felt like he was gone. Vanished into thin air, like nothing happened. And, it killed you knowing that you couldn’t do anything about it.

The clock read 7 am on the dot, which meant that you still had about two hours till the first bell. It was the first day of your period and your cramps were horrendous, to say the least. They’re usually a pain in the ass but never this bad. Looking through the medicine cabinet you rummaged past the bandaids and the gummy vitamins before remembering that Taehyung took the last Ibuprofen for his headache last night. It was ironic how little painkillers you had in the house, knowing that your mom was a doctor. But, it’s because she always preached the importance of letting your body heal naturally. Science could only get you so far, I guess?

Zipping up your windbreaker, you grabbed your wallet and keys before heading outside to the local grocery store until the sound of a slammed door left you frozen in your tracks. It came from upstairs. Looking up at the dark corridor you turned on the lights, following the breeze seeping through the cracks of your room.

“Taehyung?” you called, hands hovering over the doorknob. No one answered. Why would they? You were the only one in the house, right?

“Taehyung, if this is one your stupid jok-” you whispered again before facing the empty room.

No sight of Taehyung, but your window was open, which explained the door. The only problem was that you didn’t remember opening it in the first place. Nonetheless, you would gladly accept this version of the incident over the possibility of some paranormal activity. One problem at a time, please.

So, you shut your blinds and went back downstairs to turn off the security system before grabbing your bike from the garage. You didn't have a licence, and only got your learners about a month ago, so if no one was home you had to resort to another form of transportation.

You didn’t mind biking though. Found it rather therapeutic. Loved the alone time it allowed for without the bombardment of life and its constant obstacles. Just you and your thoughts. And, although there was a bit of a fog, it was clear enough to see where you were going. So, you buckled your helmet and went off on your journey to secure some Ibuprofen.

Exiting the gated community, you biked through the local primary school, passing by a parking lot of sleep-deprived parents rushing to work after dropping off their little ones. It was getting a bit chilly as the wind picked up, so you stopped to put on some mittens and a hat before glancing back at the rustling sound behind the corner.

“Hello?”

Again, no one answered. But, that didn’t stop the chills running down your spine, remembering the incident earlier at home. Looking down at your watch, you gasped at the 20 minutes that had already passed, yet, you were nowhere near the grocery store. So, it was time to focus.

Biking down the empty road, your eyes were scattered across the painted scenery. The old brick houses and the tall trees. The rusted mailboxes and the garden gnomes. It all felt so nostalgic. So close to your heart, as if tethered by the strings of your past. But, the feeling was short-lived. Consumed by the eerie melancholy inching up your skin as you felt someone's presence behind you.

This time, you weren’t wrong. Covered from head to toe, it looked like a man. Keeping a civil distance, he followed your turns. Left. Right. Straight. Right. Left. Straight. Coincidence or not, this wasn’t a common path that people took. Not many knew of the shortcut. So, you began to speed up, feeling the adrenaline kick in once he did the same. Now, it was a chase.

Pushing through the burning pain in your calves you picked up the pace, feet firm on the pedals. He didn't pity your fatigue, only fueled it more by inching closer before the two of you were riding side-by-side. Keeping an eye on his uncanny demeanour, you flinched at the sound of a car horn blast through your trembling state as a white Honda glared past you, pointing at the stop sign.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered under your breath.

“You're fast,” the man scoffed, tilting his head with a sly grin. That's all you could see.

“Who are you?” you yelled, voice trembling in panic.

“I’ll give you a head start, mmhm?” he sneered, changing the gears on his bike.

Feeling the tightness in your throat, you were gasping for air, dilated pupils scanning the surroundings for help. Unfortunately, as if praying on your downfall, the street was empty. Not a soul in sight. So, you pressed on the pedals, leaving the man in the dust as you prayed that the next turn led to people.

Gas station. Bingo.

Hoping off your bike you bolted towards the door.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the cashier yelled out, furrowed gaze searching the panic on your face. You could feel the flush rise up your cheeks, but the absence of Mr. X occupied your mind.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, clearly out of breath before dialling Jimin’s phone number. It was like second nature. You didn’t even realise it until your call went straight to voicemail.

“Oh, right,” a sigh escaped your lips, remembering that he was still MIA.

Looking through your contacts, there was only one more person you could call. But, the possibility of them actually agreeing to help you was as slim as your waist after all that exercise. Nonetheless, you took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

“Taehyung?”

“What do you want, y/n?” he scoffed.

“Right. So, potentially … if you could … would you mind picking me up from the gas station near River Banks?” you whispered, careful with every word as you anticipated his response.

“Potentially, screw you. What the fuck did you lose there?”

“It’s kind of a long story but I do need to be at school in about half an hour,”

“Can I even say no?”

“Last time I checked it was a free country but a dangerous one at that. So, if I'm kidnapped, my blood is on your hands,”

“You and that victim mentally of yours go way back, huh?”

“Please, Taehyung. I’ve never asked you for a favour before,”

“Fine, give me 10 minutes,” he sighed, ending the call before you could even thank the guy.

The car ride home was quiet. No radio. Windows rolled up. Silence.

“So, you’re really not gonna tell me?” Taehyung asked with an arched brow, glancing at your stiff form as the light turned red.

You’ve never been good at lying. Even if your mouth stayed shut, your face would’ve revealed it all. Essentially, there was no running away from the truth in your case.

“Well … no one was home and I needed medicine so I decided to bike to the grocery store,” you began explaining, avoiding his eyes.

“Mmhm,”

“And then …” you paused, hesitating the next part. What if Mr. Kim finds out? What if you were blowing this out of proportion?

“Y/n. You’re making me angry. Just say it,” he scolded, pressing on the pedal.

“Sorry. Um, so yeah … I was biking and then out of nowhere this man started following me. So, I tried losing him by taking different turns but … ended up getting lost,”

“You were followed?” there was a slight change in Taehyung’s voice. Less sarcastic, more intrigued.

“I guess?”

“Well, did you see what he looked like?”

“Not, really. He was covered from head to toe. Except …” you gasped, eyes shut as your brain scavenged through its short-term memory, recalling the moment at the stop sign.

“Yes?”

“The side of his mouth was … bruised like he got punched or something?” you leaned back into the seat, fidgeting with your rings while Taehyung merged onto the right lane. He was too focused on the road to hear what you said, but as you glanced at his face your eyes widened, spotting the same purple marks.

“What?” he growled, furrowed gaze glaring back at your parted lips.

“Nothing.” you chuckled awkwardly, reaching for the radio before his cold hand touched yours.

“Look me dead in the eyes and tell me.” he sneered, interlocking his fingers with yours. You’ve known each other for almost a year, yet, your shoulders have never even grazed past each other. So, this was strange, to say the least.

“Tell you what?” you said hushly, gulping down the nerves as he levelled his face to meet your scattering eyes.

“That you’re scared,”

“I’m not,” you scoffed, feeling the flush in your cheeks.

“Good. Because why the fuck would it be me, you dumbass.” his voice got louder with each word, throwing your hand back before rolling down the windows. Finally. Some fresh air.

Why would it be him, y/n? You weren’t his favourite but, this was too much. Taehyung was a straightforward person, if he hated you he would say it to your face. So, these mind games were really not his thing. But, then again, what’s up with the bruised lip?

Fixing your uniform you walked into the brightly lit classroom. First period. Physics. No one was in their seats, let alone bothered by the fact that the teacher was almost 10 minutes late. Placing your books on the desk you looked over at the empty seat beside you. Jimin was still gone. No one has heard from him in weeks.

Bing Bing

Rampaging through your backpack you searched for your phone. You didn’t have time to properly pack because Taehyung was counting down the minutes before he threatened to drive off, so you just threw everything in hoping to fix it during your free period. Scrolling through the notifications your eyes focused on the text message from an unknown number.

“I missed you.” you mouthed under your breath.

“Sorry everyone, the meeting took a bit longer,” Mr. Choi chuckled softly, speed-walking into the room before ushering everyone to their seats.

“I missed you?” you whispered again, eyebrows knitted with confusion. Was it Jimin? Did he change his number?

“Nonetheless, I am pleased to introduce our new transfer student …”

You couldn’t recognize the area code, so you tried looking it up on the internet but found nothing useful. Was this some kind of a scam? An innocent prank, maybe?

“Jeon Jungkook” Mr. Choi’s voice suddenly echoed in your ears making you glance up at the dark-haired boy standing in front of the class. Interestingly, he was already looking at you. Hooded gaze focused on the way your demeanour changed completely.

“Jungkook, feel free to take any empty seat,”

Bowing to the man, he did exactly that. Slowly passing by the first three rows before stopping by the seat next to you. Nodding his head, he seemed pleased with the pick.

“Oh, no sorry, Jungkook-ah, that seat belongs to another student,” Mr. Choi called out with a smile that quickly faded as he watched him sit regardless.

“There’s plenty of options. I’m sure they’ll find another one,” Jungkook muttered with a sly grin, taking out his books before turning his attention to your widened eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n,” he rasped against your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear to fix the back of your collar. His dark orbs flickered down to your parted lips, sending shivers down your spine.

The first kiss you shared with Jungkook was between your eyes. The way his furrowed gaze softened upon seeing you walk down the wooden stairs of your childhood home, in the lavender dress he bought for your birthday. The way he nervously nibbled on his lip ring before caressing the back of your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. Everything about him was gentle when it came to you. The way his warm embrace moulded into yours, as you grew to share the same breath, the same heartbeat. One singularity in the form of two lovers.

He filled the void your father left as you failed to please his expectations. The ones only a son could bear. The nights you spent crying in your room, wishing that your mother didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of raising a daughter, Jungkook was there. Like a knight in shining armour, he always saved you. Hoped to give you the future you deserve if you promised to share it with him. The two of you were inseparable. Attached by the hip.

Until, one day, you weren’t.

It’s been a week since Jungkook transferred schools. His seat still next to you. Inches away from the past that tethered your souls. You didn’t talk much. Mentally exhausted from the consequences. But, his eyes. They never lied. Sneaking glimpses across the room, watching your every move. He wanted you to give in, to tell him why you left. Help him understand how someone so close could betray his trust, his loyalty, his love. Jungkook didn’t hate you, wouldn’t let anyone get too close, but he was hurt. You could see it in his eyes. The same eyes that onces sparkled under the shimmering lights of the night sky when you shared your first kiss.

Dipping your feet into the pool you wanted to test the water before running through the new drill your coach crafted for the upcoming swim meet. To put it lightly, it was freezing. Goosebumps all over your skin, nipples cut through glass type of freezing. You would think a school with such a budget could afford a heated pool but beggars can’t be choosers. So, you tucked your hair under the swim camp and started on some stretches.

“One … two … three …” you breathed out, counting the reps before glancing up at the flickering lights. School ended about an hour ago, so the place was pretty empty except for the janitors and a few teachers who stayed back to work on some grading. There was no practice today, but you had a spare key to the pool, so it was just you and the water.

“Hello?” you called out, covering yourself with the towel. No response.

“Sorry, this is a closed practice,” you shouted out again, hearing footsteps coming from the changing rooms.

“Hel-”

The lights went out. Goosebumps covered your skin, heart beat through the roof. Now what?

“This isn't funny. Turn the lights back on!”

No one answered, but the footsteps inched closer. You could sense that they were near but it was too dark to make out a figure. Then, he chuckled. Subtle but devious chuckle. Like it was all premeditated.

“Where is it?” a voice echoed, bouncing off the four walls. It was familiar.

“Jungkook? Is that you?” you gasped, looking over your shoulder, hands trembling in fear.

“Where is it, y/n?” his tone was firm.

“Where's what?”

“Don't act dumb, love,” he sneered, hands hovering over your waist making you flinch at the sudden feeling. The smell of his vanilla musk lingered in the air as you matched each other’s breathing, skin to skin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whispered, chest heaving up from the tension.

“Where’s my baby?” he rasped against your ear pushing your frail body into the water as his hold around your waist tightened. Eyes squeezed shut, you began to kick him off of you. But he was stronger, assertive, more needy. Gasping for air you felt the water seep into your lungs, nails digging into his skin as a warning to bring you back to the surface.

However, once you were up, he would have more questions. Questions you didn’t have the heart to answer. But, Jungkook deserved to know the truth, even if it hurt. Because, deep down, your father’s abuse wasn’t the only reason you left.

You didn’t remember much of that night thanks to the five whiskey shots that pulsed through your veins. Intoxicated your system till you became numb. Unaware of the dangers around you and vulnerable to those with bad intentions. Until it was too late.

“Stop … please …” you whimpered, flinching at the feeling of his tongue on your breast. Parted lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your stomach, wrists red from his tight hold as your arms stayed pinned over your head. But your cries for help were as worthless as the consent he never got.

Until the door slammed open and Jungkook’s irate gaze saw your lifeless body buried under the weight of another man. No amount of restraint could hold him back. He was flammed with rage.

“Y/n!” Jungkook growled, pushing the guy onto the floor as blood covered his fist. And, as the four walls caved in, your world fell apart.

But, you could barely open your eyes, let alone get up. Too ashamed to move anyways and the migraine only made it worse. Searching for your top your heart ached with pain once you saw Jungkook’s hollow orbs swelled with tears as he wiped the blood off his face. He looked defeated, almost as unconscious as the man on the floor. Stepping over the body with one hand on his side he whimpered, biting down the pain in his ribs before covering you with his jacket.

“We have to go.” he muttered, picking you up bridal style.

“Koo, we can’t just leave him,” you yelled out, worried gaze searching his pale face.

“It’s nothing fatal, he’ll be fine,” Jungkook scoffed, feeling the tightness in his throat as he glanced down at your saddened eyes.

Tension consumed the air. It was suffocating.

“Jungkook, please slow down.” you exclaimed, tightening your hold on the seatbelt. And, although his glare was focused on the road, he couldn’t hear you. Too occupied by the burning pit in his stomach. It didn’t take long until the dashboard flashed warning signals as his speed reached 200 km/h. You were virtually flying. Yet, there was no end to his high.

Reaching for his cold hand you tried to snap him out of it before the car suddenly stopped.

“Oh, shit!” Jungkook yelled out, protecting you from the impact, as your body swung forward.

Eyes squeezed shut, your hands trembled in fear. He hit someone. You hit someone. Fidgeting with your seatbelt you desperately tried to get out and help the crouched man on the ground. He wasn’t bleeding but his skin looked burnt.

“Y/n!” Jungkook jerked you back, tightening his hold on your arm as he pressed on the pedal.

“What are you doing? We have to go back!” you yelled with a furrowed gaze.

“Jungkook!” you threw a few hits at his chest, reaching for the steering wheel as the car swerved along the bumpy road.

“Enough!”

You couldn’t recognize him. He never raised his voice at you. Barely ever argued. But, now, Jungkook felt so distant. So cold.

“Fine.” you whispered, digging your nails into your palms. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Stuck in a maze of despair, robbed of peace and the possibility that it was all in your head. That none of it was real.

But it was. And, it would only get worse.

Unlocking his front door, Jungkook stepped aside, letting you go first, hesitant with his touch. Furrowed gaze fixated on the ground, his head hung low, heavy with thoughts. Tucking onto the ankle straps of your heels you hissed out of frustration, vision blurring in and out of focus.

“I can do it myself.” you scoffed, as he bent down to help. You didn’t mean to sound rude but there’s only so much one can endure before the sun sets. It was exhausting.

“I know you can but let me,” he muttered softly.

And, for a moment there was silence. No words were exchanged. No one knew what to say. Feared that something else would go wrong. But your eyes, they were screaming.

“Koo?” you whispered, caressing his cheek as he inched closer, burying his face into the warmth of your palm.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook blurted, gripping your dress.

You weren’t his first love but you were his first love. And, he promised to always keep you safe, fight for the beating of your heart until the air was stripped away from his lungs. But, he failed.

“I’m sorry for letting you get hurt” his voice was quiet, shaky. Glossy eyes looking up at your trembling lips.

“Baby, you saved me.” you exclaimed softly, pulling him into your embrace, feeling the tension in his body slowly dissipate.

“Nothing happened, right?” he whispered into your skin.

“Nothing,” you said hushly.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

To be honest, you didn’t remember what happened. Only the scars remained witness, your body painted like a canvas with purple hues of abuse. But, nothing happened, right?

“How do you know about the baby?” you questioned with an arched brow, trying your best to stay afloat as Jungkook inched closer.

“Oh, y/n, you always underestimated the power of a small town. News here spreads faster than wildfire.” he grinned, resting his hands on your waist before your back hit the concrete.

That night, when you layed on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, the puzzle pieces began to come together. Something did happen. Something that didn’t belong to Jungkook. You were raped and on very thin ice with your father who was ready to kick you out of the house if you didn’t oblige his threats. The ones that entailed getting rid of the baby, and clearing up the family name. But, you couldn’t bear to lose someone so close, so innocent.

So, you didn’t. You hid the pregnancy from everyone. Of course, your mom knew but you didn’t want to risk getting her into trouble with your father, whose behaviour worsened with each fight. Completely unhinged, he couldn’t be stopped.

But, when he slammed you against the kitchen cabinet while you stood in front of your mother’s trembling body you finally felt it. The striking pain in your abdomen that travelled up your pelvis and into your back. The pooling of blood that rolled down your leg, marking your clothes with the loss of your baby. And every day since then, you wondered. Wondered what life would feel like without the constant longing to be whole again.

“And, hey, thanks for this,” Jungkook teased with a sly wink, parading the dove necklace Mr. Kim gifted you for your graduation.

“Give it back Jungkook, this isn’t funny.” you snapped, reaching for his hand before his hold on your waist tightened, pulling you in.

“You stole something from me, now it’s my turn,” he rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin. Inches apart, his heavy gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Hmm, I haven’t swam in a while but I think I can make the team, right captain?” Jungkook glanced up, searching your furrowed expression.

Unfortunately, he did make the team. If you couldn’t tell already, he was a crowd favourite. Always managed to get what he wanted, even with minimal effort. Simply put, life just seemed to work out for Jungkook.

So, when the team went on to win the Nationals your coach decided to splurge and take everyone out for the weekend. Nothing special. Just a trip to the next town over. He rented a bus, but if you had a ride you could just meet everyone there. Sadly, both your mom and Mr. Kim were busy with work and Taehyung closed the door on you when you asked, so that seemed like a hard pass.

“Damn, Mr. Lim couldn't wait till sunrise?” your friend teased as the two of you waited by the school entrance. It was just shy of 7 am, but the sky was grey and foggy.

“That's what I'm saying. I couldn't even sleep yesterday,” you scoffed, feeling the puffiness around your eyes. Something about the little getaway fueled your nervous system to stay alert the whole night. Was it excitement? Fear?Anxiousness? Only time will tell.

“It's fine, in about 5 minutes we should already be hitting the road. And, hey, I brought the book you asked for,” she exclaimed, digging through her bag.

“Nice! Fair warning though, I will be taking my beauty slumber as soon as we get on or else I might just die,” the two of you chuckled before collecting your stuff noticing the bus turn into the school parking lot.

Heading up the stairs you were welcomed by an older gentleman.

“Hel-” his words were cut off by the shouting outside.

“Y/n!”

“Sorry, could you excuse me for a second?” you giggled awkwardly, turning back to see who was making all that noise.

“Y/n, get in. I'll drive.” Jungkook urged with no hesitation, patting the passenger seat.

“That's not necessary,” you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest.

“That wasn't a question.” a sly grin covered his face.

Parking his Mercedes in front of the bus, you looked back at the old man who was busy checking in the other students to notice Jungkook’s stubborn act. Well, shit.

“Fine.” you muttered, ushering him to open the trunk.

As promised, you fell asleep almost immediately, suppressing the daunting feeling inside your chest. Jungkook didn’t mind, and kept as quiet as possible, reclining your seat before covering you with his jacket. It was better that the two of you didn’t speak. This gave him the perfect opportunity to look at you without being threatened.

The drive was supposedly only 4 hours, but the rain lengthened the process.

“Hhmm?” you flinched from the sound of hail hitting the glass window.

“Sleep well?” Jungkook whispered, glancing at your drowsy eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, stretching your back.

“Are you hungry? We will have to stop at a motel, it’s too dangerous to drive.”

“Alright. Let me just text Yuri then,” you said, unzipping your bag.

“No need, I already let Mr. Lim know,” he winked, pulling into the parking lot.

Mother Nature was pissed and decided to take it out on all of us. So, it wasn’t long until the two of you were drenched from head to toe.

“Quickly, let’s go!” Jungkook exclaimed, grabbing your hand before locking the car.

The place wasn’t brand new, per se, but it served its purpose. As soon as you walked in, you were welcomed by what could only be described as a parade of taxidermy deer heads mounted onto the wall with a complimentary coffee station by the corner.

“I'll be right with you!” a female voice echoed from the back room.

Glancing at the water dripping down your face Jungkook chuckled, pulling you in to wipe the excess with his sleeve.

“You okay?” he hummed, levelling his head until your eyes met.

“Cold,” you muttered, nibbling on your lip before turning him back towards the front desk.

“Right, so sorry for the wait. What can I do for you, dear?” an older woman exclaimed with a soft smile.

“Oh, no worries at all! We’re just looking for a room for the night,” Jungkook explained, pulling out his wallet.

“Of course! Are you two a couple by any chance?” she giggled, dimples popping out on both cheeks as your mouth dropped.

“Oh, n-” you scoffed before his glare pierced through you.

“Shhh, let her finish, love,”

“Well, it’s just that Saturdays are usually our couple specials. You get a 30% discount!” she clapped, admiring what you assumed she thought to be the epitome of young love standing in front of her.

“Lucky us, then,” Jungkook clapped as well, inching your stiff body closer to make it more believable.

“Go us!” you smiled awkwardly, patting his chest before whispering something in his ear. Don’t get too excited.

Placing a gentle peck on your forehead he grabbed the bags, following the sweet lady towards your room.

“Alrighty, here it is! If you need anything I’m just a call away.”

“Thank you!” the two of you said in unison, unlocking the door.

One bed.

“So, how is it?” Jungkook asked, laying out his jacket on the cabinet to dry.

“You’re sleeping on the floor.” a teasing chuckle escaped your parted lips.

“The rain will stop soon. I doubt we’ll even need the bed,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“What? We wasted all that money for nothing?”

“Well, first of all, I paid. And, we got a discount, remember?”

“I'm sorry. I'll pay you back,” your gaze lowered from the sudden guilt, fingers fidgeting with your rings.

“Are you kidding? I would pay triple to spend more time with you,” his tone was genuine, pupils dilated at your timid state.

“Jungkook,” you whispered.

“If only you knew how much I missed it,” he tilted his head back on the wall, nibbling on his lip ring.

“What?”

“Hearing you say my name,”

“I thought we hated each other,” you muttered, folding your hands over your chest.

“You did. I just loved the thrill of it,”

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss it too. In hindsight, your feelings were always suppressed but obvious to the naked eye. To his eyes. However, just because you miss something, doesn’t mean you have to go back. Sometimes, the door is better off closed. Hidden deep in your subconscious mind, buried under a pile of broken promises.

“I’m going to shower.” you blurted in a hurry, walking past him to avoid the thoughts running through your head.

The water was cold no matter which way the faucet turned, so you had to be quick unless catching hypothermia was on the list of things Mr. Lim wanted you to experience over this trip. If so, then you were ahead of the game.

Wrapping yourself with a towel you washed off your makeup, combing your hair with a detangling brush before getting startled by the swinging of the door, hitting your side.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.”

“Sorry, it’s cold,” Jungkook whined, welcoming himself in.

“Did you try putting on a shirt?” you scoffed, eyeing his naked chest before his furrowed gaze caught you red-handed.

“It’s wet, smartass. And, I didn’t want to put new clothes on before showering.”

“Well, go stand over there and face the wall,”

“Are you shy?” he teased, leaning on the counter.

“Well, I’m not comfortable.” you hissed, tightening the fabric around your body.

“I’ve seen you naked plenty of times, y/n,” Jungkook grinned, eyes squeezed shut as if reminiscing the good old days.

“You don’t have to remind me. I'll be taking that sin to the grave,”

But it was too late. Lips inches apart, your chest heaved up from the intensity of his heavy gaze, eyeing your form from top to bottom. Tilting your chin with his fingers, he leaned closer.

“We can’t,” you blurted, hands hovering over his chest.

“No?” he glanced at your scattering eyes, pressing your palm against his burning skin.

“What about Soojin?”

“What about her?”

“Seems like you guys were hitting it off pretty well,” you hissed, looking past his glare.

“Meh … not my type,” Jungkook scoffed, eyes flickering down your lips.

“Oh, really?”

“Why? Was y/n jealous?” he said with a sly grin, tracing his fingers up your thigh.

“Soojin, is not your type? Ha! Hard to believe when she was all over you a few days ago.” your tone was low, annoyed at the whole thing. You were jealous. Fine. Whatever. Moving right along.

“Hmm, is that so? Then what does that say about us? If I leave a trail of kisses down your neck, does that mean you're my type?” he whispered in your ear, pulling your body onto the counter before finding himself between your legs.

“I'm not your type,” you chuckled, ignoring the obvious tension.

“I could've been a dad by now and you're questioning if you're my type? Really?” Jungkook teased, resting his forehead on yours.

“Jungkook, the baby wasn’t yours.” you said firmly, palms holding his face to make sure he was paying attention.

“But, it was yours. And, what’s yours is mine. Isn’t that right?” he winked, fingers intertwined with yours. Then it happened. The long-awaited kiss. And, although you knew this wasn’t the best of your decisions, you didn’t mind revisiting this door, at least for the time being.

Until that night. The night in the forest. When a locked door was the only thing separating you and Jungkook.

“Call him. Let's see if he actually cares,” you could see the grin smear across the man’s masked face, as your blood-shot eyes swelled with tears.

Hands tied behind your back, you watched him press the call button, turning the phone towards you before resting his knife right under your chin.

“Jungkook!” you cried out with a shaky voice.

Ring Ring

“Oh, shit, where’s my phone,” Jungkook exclaimed, patting his pockets before reaching for the glove compartment.

“What the fuck?”

His eyes widened. It was you. Rather, snapshots of you. One’s that he had no recollection of taking. But, they looked strange. As if you also weren’t aware of them being captured.

Call from 647-568-0349. Call from y/n-ie❤️

An automated voice broadcasted through the speaker system set up in his garage.

“Y/n?” Jungkook yelled out, bolting towards the locked door.

“Jungkook … please …” you whimpered, feeling the tip of the knife poke into your skin as your chest heaved up.

“What the fuck? Why won’t it open?” Jungkook growled, fidgeting with the knob before banging on the wooden door. But, no one was home.

“Please … please … pick up.”

Running back into his car, he turned on the engine, scattering eyes looking back at the empty driveway until the garage door began closing on its own.

And within seconds, he was trapped. No way in or out. But, the engine was still on, running inside the confined space. Gaseous fumes slowly intoxicating the air he was forced to breathe.

“Fucking hell.” Jungkook coughed, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Please …” you kept trying, hoping to hear his sweet voice on the other line. Completely naive to the carbon monoxide that was now spreading through his lungs.

“Help!” he cried out, feeling the tightness in his throat.

“Jungk-” you gasped, widened eyes glaring back at the masked man.

“Tsk … what a shame.” he sneered, ending the call abruptly before piercing through the phone.

“Oh, angel, it’s okay. We can wait if you wish. Hopefully, his lungs don’t collapse,” he rasped against your hair, cold touch sending shivers down your back as you felt your heart sink.

119 notes · View notes

rippersz · 1 year ago

Text

𝑷𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

(A Jan Stevens x Fem!Reader ~3.3K Word Oneshot) (NSFW: Daddy kink; Bondage; Degradation; Slight corruption kink; Lewd language; Cock-warming; Orgasm-denial) (MINORS DNI)

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

She’s just… sitting there. Keeping her eyes on her documents and writing for so long you believe she’s slipped into some sort of workaholic coma.

Not even bothering to look up. Not even bothering to meet your mean frustrated glare.

“Did I say you could stop?”

Instantly you try to backchat, shooting for a mocking tone as you struggle against the binds holding you in place.

“DmPh M MpH yMPh GHmPhg tMpH?”

“I don’t speak ‘cloth gag’, darling. Try again.”

But you’re too wound up to listen, so you huff and roll your eyes and look down at your predicament.

If anyone came in, they’d be shocked and horrified and probably also very turned on by the sight.

Of you on your knees. In front of Jan Stevens’s desk. Legs spread. Beautiful red rope twirling around your skin, creating pretty boxy diamond designs before sliding back to bind your hands together behind you. Nude. And blushing. With a dark rolled up cloth tied around your head, tucked in between your lips, silencing your sass. And the magnum opus of Jan Stevens’s erotic design, the very thing that’s keeping you sitting there, swirling in and out of lust and irritation, the thing one’s eye is drawn to instantly: a thick silicone toy between your legs. Suctioned cupped to the wooden floor. Tall and inhuman, with a flared base and a large head and a big shaft and a good amount of lubricant and sex slicking the entire length of it. Making it shine in the dim light of Jan’s desk lamp.

It’s black, matching the eyeshadow of her makeup, and it’s annoying as the tip of it brushes over your clit, making you jolt.

You can’t escape it. Of course. That’s the entire point of her ‘lesson’. You’re forced to endure and take and be quiet while she gets her work done. Panting and sweating in the middle of the room, abdominal muscles clenching nearly painfully, thighs burning with the spread, cunt stretched and aching for some real action. Minding your own business and searching for a climax the two of you know you’ll never get.

That’s why she likes this game so much. Sitting there in her chair, smirking to herself whenever you let out a particularly pained whimper. Always trying to get her attention but never succeeding unless you’ve gone against the rules and stopped.

Which you have.

Which is what you’re doing right now - hovering above the fucking thing while you catch your breath and curse her with your eyes. She can feel you looking, but she doesn’t give you the satisfaction of her attention. Or her praise. Or her degradation. Or anything at all! It’s maddening! It’s torture.

And it’s pissing you off.

“Jan!” You try to bark at her, struggling more in your bindings, but it only comes out as a muffled “Hmpn!”

She doesn’t respond.

If you had the strength and energy, you’d get up. But you can’t. You’re tired and dripping sweat and the situation is so erotic that you wish you had some extra stimulation to send you over the edge. Having a cock in you isn’t enough. You need her hands, her pointed touch, her lips, her breath, her words.

You need Jan Stevens.

“Continue,” she says airily, distracted and uninterested and wholly engrossed in her work.

Oh damn you Jan Stevens.

You huff, roll your eyes, and after a minute of weighing the scales, finally sink down onto the toy again.

It’s pure bliss. And it feels good. And she knows that. She knows you like being filled up, feeling heavy with the pressure that spreads through your abdomen as the fake cock pushes into you. And she knows you won’t complain. Not really. Not when you enjoy how degrading it feels to slowly fuck yourself in a means so controlled. This is her design. She sits at her desk, yes, but she controls your pleasure.

“Faster.”

Just like that.

A growl bubbles up from your throat but you listen to her anyway - and your hips flex while you reach the base of the toy and grind your clit down against the silicone. It’s a soft stimulation, not nearly enough to make you cum, and it only frustrates you further. But you are nothing if not obedient, despite your irritation, so you roll your eyes and give her what she wants and fuck yourself faster. Lifting your hips and letting them fall while your muscles clench and relax. It’s a shame the head of the toy only barely brushes against that wonderfully pleasurable spot inside you. If you could angle yourself differently, and weren’t bound, it would sit right against it and make you see stars; but with the way your thighs are spread, all you can do is bounce.

It’s amusing to Jan Stevens - who continues her writing as soon as you resume your play. You notice the way her lip twitches in the light of her lamp. She’s beautiful from that angle. A cruel mistress. You want to crawl into her lap and demand kisses, but you were bad earlier. Touching what isn’t yours without even asking for permission… it was stupid to think you wouldn’t get caught. Jan has a sixth sense for nearly all things regarding you. It’s why security measures are put in place for times like these - times in which your mind is a little fuzzy and your body isn’t your own. The stop light check wouldn’t work here, not in earnest, so you decided on something a bit more abstract. If the discomfort got too strong, you’d hum a little jingle. She’s hard at work, yes, but she’s still listening. Always keeping half of her mind and heart open for you.

It’s a comforting thought.

It’s why you’re willing to endure.

“Faster.”

A whimper tumbles from your chest. The ache feels heavenly but going faster won’t get you anywhere. It only makes you warmer, hotter, more desperate for more pleasure.

But you like seeing her proud.

So you continue. Breasts bouncing with vigor and clenched hands falling open while your body moves at the sound of her commands. You go down to the base and don’t allow yourself to linger, instantly pulling up and using short fast thrusts to go down again. And up again. And down. And up. And god- it does feel good. So good. So- fuck.

“Hnh- hnh- hmmph-,” the noises are endless, forced out from your diaphragm while the toy just grazes the source of your pleasure - never hitting it in the way you want. Never making your body shiver, never making you double over and keen and pant and thrust your hips in the way you know you can when Jan is fucking you.

When her breath is hot at your neck and her hands are gripping your waist and her tongue is licking at your skin lazily. Lavishing you in her version of love as she moans into your ear and makes you whine around her fingers. Never fucking you quickly. Never giving you the rapture you truly desire. Always on edge, always cumming with permission, always a slow build and a deep bone-shaking fall. It’s a nice feeling, but you desire more. You are greedy for her true passion. You always have been.

“Stop.”

You stop. Your thighs shake. Your cunt clenches, tightening around the toy’s shaft. Slow and pleasurable. Your body’s way of trying to milk the faux-cock of any essence it can give you. Of any warmth.

The sound of a creaking chair has you looking up, and you watch with a fierce blooming hope as Jan Stevens slowly rises from behind her desk. The tips of her fingers press against the dark wood before she’s taking them away and gently dragging them along the edge - making your eyes run to the sensual sway of her body. Admiring with as much passion as you can while she takes her sweet time in getting to your side. Heels clicking slowly. Long legs oscillating with the small side to side of her hips. She looks glorious. Strong. Like your ending world and your burgeoning life. All wavy blonde hair and smokey eyes and rose red lips. Beautiful and evil and sexy and towering and dear gods you want her with a vicious hunger.

And you can tell she knows this by the shadowed look in her blue eyes. Full of a fiery lust and desire all her own. All for you. Looking at you like you’re nothing and everything all at once. Like you’re the answer to every question she’s ever had. And you watch as she kneels in front of you, pressing one knee to the floor and leaning on her other leg. It stretches the fabric of her skirt, but she doesn’t seem to care. All she’s interested in is you.

You, who looks at her with an endless amount of hope. So much of it you can see the way her lips part into a sweet proud placating smile as soon as her face lines up with yours.

You stare at each other until Jan tilts her head - and your chest heaves with a small husky whine. She’s proud of the sound; of the lust she’s inspired in you, and takes that time to drag her gaze over your body. Sweating, shivering, wrapped up like a present for her, hovering over a cock that’s far too big for you. Barely able to lift yourself off of it without collapsing down on it again. Sitting there even while the silence builds, looking at her like she can give you all you’ve ever wanted, cunt clenching around something that can’t fulfill you properly.

“You deserve this darling,” is the small coo that falls from her tantalizing red lips. “A punishment is always due for disobedience.” And then a pale hand is lifting from her lap to reach up and cup your jaw. You press into her hold, delighting in the slightly clammy feeling of her soft skin. It makes her expression soften. “You know that, don’t you?” High pitched and child-like, she mocks you.

And you want to say no. You want to demand that she give you the pleasure you so desperately want. But instead, just to appease (and gain her favor), you nod. Your eyes are brimming with frustration and desperation and a hint of sadness and fury and an overwhelming amount of lust for her - but still you nod. And Jan is delighted by that. Her eyes roam over your face, still held in her palm, before she’s letting her eyes linger along the length of your body. Over your breasts, your thighs, the pouch of your tummy, the red of the binding ropes, and finally - the heaven between your legs, shadowed by your bodies, holding her treasure. It sparks a streak of deep sadism in your lover, and she doesn’t hesitate to show you that.

“Mmm yes. Taking cock like a good girl, aren’t you?”

Her sudden low purr, warm and full of praise, makes your hips jolt. Skin goosebumped with surprise, you swallow a keen that begs to fall from your mouth. Yes, you want to say, Yes yes yes taking cock like a good girl for you Jan. But you’re gagged and you’re dumb and you can’t. So you wiggle your hips instead, cunt aching for release and clit twitching with desire. So hot and needy-

“Oh look at you,” Jan whispers, eyeing yourself like a bidder at an auction - greedy and intrigued. Utterly fascinated with your body’s responses to her words. “Just a bit of praise is all it takes hm? That’s all you need, little one?” And when you feel your mind melt, when you notice the retorts die on your tongue, your hold over yourself loosens - and your legs quiver as you go down again. A small gasp falls from Jan’s mouth, quickly morphing into a moan as she watches you close your eyes. “That’s a good pet. See?” Her tongue darts out to lick at her lips. “Not so bad, darling…”

Yeah, you think briefly to yourself, not bad. Not bad. So good, actually. Feels- hng- yes- good.

Jan leans closer. Until her mouth is lined up to the shell of your ear and her breath pours over the side of your face. Cascading down your sensitive neck. Teasing and predatory. She’s enjoying her control. She craves more.

“All you want is this, don’t you?” Your back arches, mind molding itself to her words. “All you want is me.” There’s no doubt. “All you want is my pleasure. To please me. Am I wrong?” She asks, faking the genuine interest in her question, knowing that you’ll shake your head and moan a soft ‘mmph-mmph.’ Her smile presses to your ear. “No. Of course not, darling. I’m never wrong. I always know what’s good for you. Don’t I?” But you’re too far gone to respond. Too obsessed with the way the cock presses into you - and it doesn’t even matter if it doesn’t hit that delicious little spot - it still feels nice. Still feels wonderful. Still could get you there if only Jan stays-

“HNGH!” Your eyes fly open, wide and watery and a little fearful of the sharp feeling that shoots from one side of your chest to the rest of your body.

You don’t even have to look down to know that Jan’s arm has wandered, and her hands have moved. From your jaw to her lap, and the other from her lap to your chest - evil in its path as two nail-polished fingertips wrap around your nipple and twist. Pulling slightly, moving until the skin folds and grows taught and you’re letting out a small screech from the back of your throat - staring at her like she’s just done something horrible.

But she hasn’t. Of course. She knows you.

Your cunt still clenches around the toy. Your clit still aches. Your body still thrums. Wet and desperate, you go a bit faster as she takes her hand away and growls:

“Don’t. I.”

You can’t even remember the question.

Doesn’t matter.

You nod anyway, and go ‘mhm! mhm!’ from behind your gag, nodding and agreeing - and then closing your eyes again, swiftly clawed over by the waves of euphoria that hit you whenever your thighs touch the floor and your pussy touches the base of the faux-cock.

Jan smiles.

“I know darling, I know. I’m so cruel, aren’t I?” She coos, tilting her head to the other side to watch your body move as you take her toy over and over and over again. “Does Daddy’s cock feel good, pretty girl? Hmm?” Her words slow down - affected by the entrancing show you’re giving her. “I know how much you like being filled,” Jan sighs, staring off into space as though she’s thinking, “so I just had to choose one of the largest ones. You understand, don’t you?” At this point, she knows you’re past the threshold of responding. Only able to take the words and convert them into sensation, dedicating your desire to her speech as your hands curl behind your back and your neck slowly falls to the side.

Yes. Yes feels good. Yes, thank you. Yes-

“Say ‘thank you’ Daddy.”

Oh GOD.

Your eyes flutter open, brows furrowed with the weight of your ecstasy while you meet her gaze. She smiles, sharp and clever. Still kneeling by your side, not touching you with anything but her accented voice and her gorgeous words and the small buzz of her proximity. So close that if you leaned forward, you could feel her.

“Say it.” Jan whispers. You watch her lips move. “Thank me for your punishment.”

“Hmph hm fhph mphu pnhmnt,” you speak meekly through the gag, blushing instantly at the small mewl that melodies your words. She knows what you’ve said of course, but that doesn’t stop her from putting on a fake pout and humming in disappointment.

“I didn’t understand that, little one. Can you repeat yourself, please?”

Your eyes turn wide and pleading, showing the fact that you’ve already had enough of her teasing and your attention is being taken away from your pleasure and you need to get back to being praised until the point of utter bliss-

But Jan Stevens doesn’t care.

“Now.” Her pout grows into a hard line and you whimper with the effort it takes to say your words again.

“Hmph hm fhph mphu pnhmnt!” You exclaim, hips twitching forward with frustration while you glare at her.

Red lips quirk up at the ends, pulling into a slow smile at your expense. Oh she loves this.

“My, how dirty,” Jan growls, her chest jumping with the smooth chuckle she lets out into the silence. “When did my little one hear those words?” Pale fingers go up to her heart, covering the expensive fabric of her shirt while she sucks in a sharp breath, eyes widening comically. “I never taught my darling how to say such depraved things. Where did you learn that, sweet girl?” You stay quiet and start moving your hips quickly again, sinking up and down on the toy while your muscles burn with the constant workout. “Hmm?” She shuffles closer - and then as quick as lightning, moves the hand from her shirt to the back of your head and fists your soft hair in her palm. Clenched between her fingers - before being tugged back. Making your neck snap back for her while she hovers over you and brushes red lips up against your ear. “Who taught you how to act like such a slut?” Jan hisses, teeth grazing your skin. “Who taught you how to pant like a bitch in heat?” There’s a pause while your eyes roll back into your head. “Because I don’t remember doing that, darling. I don’t remember corrupting you.” Then she pulls back, admires the flush of your skin and the sinful sounds that fill the room- of course coming from the wet slick of your cunt swallowing the toy. “Did Daddy do that?” She asks, pouting again. “Did Daddy ruin you with her cock? Hmm? Did Daddy fuck you so many times you became more whore than you did human? Is that it?”

It’s too many words. Too many good words. Too much pleasure and ache and need and lust and the way you can’t stop whining for her, your tongue pressing to the gag without thought, your throat and your body and your lungs and your thighs working over time, trying to get the point across that you need her- you need her so bad-

“Oh look at you,” Jan moans.

“Pathetic.”

And with a speed you can’t even comprehend, as mushy-brained and soft as you are, the chill of the room comes floating back to your body - hitting the front of you with a force that makes you shiver and release a loud, needy noise to try and get your lover’s attention. But she’s the cause of the problem. She’s stood up, taken one last look at you down her nose, and click-clacked her way back to her desk. Leaving you wet, blushing, staring after her with quivering lips and an abdomen that’s exhausted from the constant clenching and unclenching. Utterly speechless and a little confused and worried that she’s just going to keep you like this. But she won’t. She won’t. She’s just going over to grab her jersey and then she’ll collect you and you’ll walk back to the warmth of your bedroom and you’ll both drown in the passion you have for each other-

“Stop looking at me like that. Resume.” And her hand waves out flippantly while she takes a seat back into the rolly-chair behind her desk. And returns to her work.

Blonde hair lit up by the desklamp. Hunched over papers with a pen quickly scooped up into her hand. Silence again in the room.

And then she’s just… sitting there. Keeping her eyes on her documents and continuing her writing like nothing ever fucking happened.

Oh damn you Jan Stevens.

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

Grins so widely. - Rip x

✩.･:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•:｡✩

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #flux gourmet #jan stevens #jan stevens x reader #jan stevens x you #jan stevens x y/n #jan stevens flux gourmet #flux gourmet jan stevens #ns/fw fic #ns/fw wlw fic #fanfic smut #smut fanfiction #smut oneshot #wlw oneshot

290 notes · View notes

nrdmssgs · 10 months ago

Note

Sorry but I NEED a happy ending for Nikto and that reader. An AU, What If, whatever, but I need fluff and happiness

Pieces of them

Masterlist

Part 1

Pairing: Nikto x f reader Angst\comfort Reader goes KIA

Thank you @amongthe141 for encouraging me for writing more for this guy, thank you to a very dear @atenceladusiaawfytbwb for reminding me about this story. @iwanncry @bogboyfriendbreadslice @sinner-sinta loves, sorry for bothering you, but just in case, you wanted a happy ending - here it is.

"Are you out or not? I don't have all night!" She laughs.

Nikto doesn't like it when she laughs - it feels as if someone tickles him from the inside.

"Dumb ritual," he mutters, taking a step outside and facing dark night skies.

"Anything, I come up with is dumb, of course." Her voice is calm and unbothered by his commentaries. "Now tell me, which one do you see?"

He lifts his head. Usually he manages to recognize two, or at best three, constellations. But today he is almost going blind from the brightness of the myriad stars. They are so large that it seems that he can reach some of them with his hand.

Niktos breath catches in his throat. Why didn't he notice this before? Why didn't he see all these stars hovering right above his head? The night sky became so wildly mesmerizing, since...

"Hello, it seems you are trying to reach me, while I'm deployed. Leave your message, and I'll call back after an ungodly amount of sleep, hot shower and a few decent meals. Bye!"

He winces. Just recently, she called him every evening and forced him to go outside before bed and tell her at least two constellations that he could see above his head. Recently. Or maybe it was a million years ago, in a past life? Or did this not happen at all? Maybe he made her up?

Nikto shakes his head. Her voice, pre-recorded for the inbox, is not a figment of his imagination. And this sky above is unusually bright, but still real. He raises his head, covers his mouth and howls in horror and pain.

***

The worst thing is that there's even no body left to bury. She was confirmed to be KIA, yet Nikto couldn't even say goodbye.

First he waited by her door. Like a dog on a leash. Scared and desperate. Like a beggar. Hopeless.

He wrote her, he wrote so much, but never got an answer. So Nikto ran away, not being able to spend one more night at her doorstep, waiting for nothing. Ever since, he was on the run, chasing the last traces of her. He barely slept or ate and just drove from one hospital to another, inspecting their list of deceived soldiers.

Nikto deserved that last goodbye. Even if her body was all deformed, even if there were just a few bones left - it was still better than chasing her pre-recorded voice every evening and suffocate himself to not howl at the moon.

His squadmates try to reach out to him, buts it's no use - Nikto ignores their calls and doesn't bother reading messages. He keeps chasing her ghost and that is all that matters.

Until one day he stumbles upon König himself at one of the hospitals. Nikto notices a printed list of names in his hand and pulls it harshly, almost tearing the paper apart.

"She's not there."

Nikto ignores Colonels words and goes through the list, quietly muttering names. Only to find out, that König is right.

A crumpled piece of paper flies into the wall, to the displeasure of the head nurse. The Colonel picks it up, carefully straightens it and places it back on the counter.

"We are not ok about her fate, just as you. We can search together, An-"

"Shut up! I'm not searching just for a squadmate, not trying to lighten my conscience! You don't know who she was! Even she didn't..." Nikto stops himself in the middle of the sentence. He knows, It's wrong to vent his anger to the Colonel, who did nothing wrong in the first place.

***

König starts sending Nikto strange addresses: they switch from military hospitals to the organizations helping war survivors. The search becomes much more complicated, because many people, who end up in such facilities, have no IDs. So Nikto has to visit each ward and have long talks with nurses.

It drains his last bits of energy, so when he hears 'we actually have someone fitting your description', he doesn't even react right away. Nikto nods automatically, stands up and stops only at the doors.

"Wait, there is someone?" He rushes back and nearly knocks the nurse over.

Grabbing her hands, he barely whispers 'please, let me see, just one glance, please' with his white, dry lips.

He expects to be escorted to the basement, where the morgue is usually located, but is taken to the common room. A few people slowly walk along it with absolutely lost faces. But Nikto doesn’t look at them - his gaze rests on the painfully familiar profile. Her face.

Eyes tired and faded. Her skin is pale, her hair is very short, and there is a long and voluminous scar on the head. Nikto notices that she is shaking.

“She’s cold. Do you have warmer clothes or a blanket here? I’ll pay for anything!” He turns and meets the sympathetic gaze of the nurse. Irritated, he knocks on the glass door. Several people turn to look at him, but she doesn't pay any attention.

"Sir, I'm afraid you don't quite understand the situation correctly. She experienced clinical death, woke up from a coma. These tremors are not from the cold." After these words, Nikto already feels his hands getting colder.

He begs the nurse to let them speak. "A minute, just a minute!" But she leads him away from the room.

"Sir, she needs to be prepared for any meeting. Meanwhile, we will need some documentary evidence of your affiliation. We have to protect our patients from any illegal encounters."

For a split second Nikto imagines, how long would it take him to push her to any room on their way and block the door, so he can run back. But he shakes his head, banishing the mental image.

He patiently listens and even writes down, what documents he has to provide. He covers his own mouth, when the voices inside line up in the choir, asking him to scream.

***

Nikto fights for a single chance to talk to her, as if his life depends on it: despite his anger, he contacts König, asks for a help with forging required papers, he takes his own meds religiously, fearing to harm her otherwise.

He counts minutes, till he can hold her hand, just make sure, it is really her. Alive.

When he is finally allowed to talk to her - the nurse asks Nikto to wait, while she makes sure, the patient is ready. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, as the nurse sits on the bed next to her and tells her something softly.

In a few minutes she nods and the nurse walks past Nikto. "No sudden moves, keep your voice down. She gets scared easily. There will be personnel right behind her door," she whispers and leaves them alone.

Nikto walks around the bed and finally sees her: a mere shadow of a warrior, an almost lifeless shell, curled up, hugging her knees. Words roll up in a lump in his throat, and he just descends on his knees, trying to meet her lost gaze.

At first, she hides her eyes, as if not looking at him would make him not existing in her world. Nikto cant believe, this is all that left of the smiling, lively, skillful amazing her. His hand raises to the huge, ugly scar on her head automatically, but she catches him and shakes her head in a silent plea.

"Of course. I-I`m sorry, I won't touch... Of course, I won't. I'm so sorry." His voice is just a tad louder than a whisper.

Feeling, that his voice is shaking, Nikto takes a deep breath and looks her in the eyes. He wants to tell her so much, every cell in his body begs to hold her, cover her with a blanket, warm her. But he knows better than to stress her with too much information or questions or contact. He's been reading days and nights now about her current state. That's why Nikto just sits before her, staring into her face.

She reaches out to his cheeks, and he wakes from his stupor.

"My face must be scary. I brought a mask, but they said, it might scare you even more." Nikto shows her the mask, but she pushes it away and rests her hands on his face. It's only when her fingers touch his skin - he realizes, his cheeks, chin and neck are wet with tears.

He tries to get a grip on himself, but her touch crushes the last bit of self-control, he had. Tears keep running down his face as she cups it with all the care of this world.

"They will come. They will come. They will come. They will come." At first, he doesn't make anything from the words, leaving her lips. He is so shocked by her tenderness, that he is afraid to move or talk back.

She brings him closer and closer, until she hugs Nikto, clinging to him desperately and repeating 'they will come'. Only when her face hides on his shoulder, Nikto masters a simple question.

"Who will come? You're waiting for someone?"

She keeps muttering the same mantra, but points at a bed drawer. Nikto hesitates for a few long minutes, not wanting to scare her off by a sudden movement.

He reaches out and opens the drawer, which appears to be full of... pieces of paper. He hugs her back with one hand and takes a handful of pieces with the other.

Several pieces of paper fall to the floor with a dry rustle. Nikto squints his eyes at the remaining pieces of paper and freezes. A star map. Torn into tiny pieces. Their nightly ritual has survived everything - even death.

Maybe she didn’t remember him, maybe she didn’t remember what exactly they did in the evenings, but this starry sky, even in the form of a map, remained with her as small pieces of hope. Pieces from which she assembled him and herself.

Nikto opens his palm, letting the remaining paper fall on the ground, and hugs her with both hands finally. He finally finds the right words for her.

"We've come for you, love."

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #cod x reader #mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod nikto #nikto #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #nikto x you #nikto cod #nikto angst #call of duty mw2 #call of duty nikto

252 notes · View notes

sunshinebingo · 8 months ago

Text

@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 5 - Domestic Life

Synopsis: Gwyn finds comfort in the arms of Azriel after she has a nightmare.

Word Count: 800

Read on Ao3

Deep breath in through the nose. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Now out through the mouth. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Deep breath in through the nose. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. Out through the mouth. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

The fog in her mind slowly dissipated. Gwyn heard the faint echoes of Azriel’s voice rising above the pounding of her heart.

Deep breath in. And out. Deep breath in. And out.

She registered his voice guiding her through it before she felt him close to her. She reached out a hand towards where she knew his was waiting, hesitant to touch her lest he made things worse. Azriel knew where her mind had brought her to. There was only one nightmare that could cause Gwyn to scream and beg the way she had been doing a few minutes ago. Her cries had been loud enough to travel through the walls that separated their respective bedrooms in the House of Wind.

Gwyn turned on her side and, with her eyes still closed, grabbed Azriel’s hand with both of hers. The familiar ridges of his scars and his voice reminding her to breathe slowly cleared her head until the phantom touch of rough hands on her body was completely gone.

“You are safe Gwyn,” his deep voice wrapped her and warmed her better than the thin blanket that half covered her.

Azriel brushed away the strands of hair that had escaped her bun and stuck to her sweaty forehead with his free hand before lowering it to her face to wipe away her tears.

“You are in the Night Court, in your bedroom in the House of Wind. You are safe.”

He was right. She wasn’t in that wretched kitchen nor with those monsters anymore. But it wasn’t so much the reminder of the place that she was currently in that reassured her the most. Gwyn couldn’t care less at this moment in what court or what house she was at. What meant the most to her was the person who was now with her. It was those scarred and infinitely gentle hands in hers and caressing her face. It was that voice that had pulled her out of her nightmare. It was his shadows that she knew, even with her eyes still closed, were swirling around her like a shield of darkness. It was that steady and comforting presence that had helped her then, and which was still here for her now.

“Azriel?”

He immediately moved closer at the sound of his name hesitantly coming out of her lips. It pained him to hear the remnants of fear in her voice.

“Can you hold me?” she asked even as she started gliding closer to him.

Azriel would do anything to help her and he obviously would gladly start with that. He pulled his hands away and wrapped his arms around her as he lied down and pulled her closer. Gwyn placed both of her hands on his chest, delighted for the fact that he was shirtless so that she could soak in the warmth radiating from his bare skin.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

She did not need anything else but him holding her. Nothing could make her feel better. Except maybe one thing.

“Hold me tighter,” she said, rubbing her nose on his skin and inhaling his unique scent.

Azriel tightened his arms around her and pulled her even closer.

“Tighter.”

He repeated the gesture. He didn’t stop, squeezing her tighter and tighter until the sound of her giggle pierced a hole in the heaviness that had been hovering in the air.

“Not too tight, Az. I don’t want to run out of air,” she said, her voice slightly muffled from her face being pressed against his chest.

Some of his shadows left the cocoon they had made around them to dance across her neck and shoulder. Azriel chuckled as he loosened a little of his strong hold on her.

The lingering fear from Gwyn’s nightmare vanished with the heavy sigh that she let out once Azriel figured out the perfect way to hold her.

“Just like that. Can you hold me a for moment?”

Azriel kissed the top of her head before resting his own there. “I will hold you for as long as you want me to.”

Gwyn smiled. Her nightmare might have shaken her but it did not matter. She was safe and she was not alone. Nothing could break her. And when she was in the arms of the Shadowsinger, nothing could scare her either.

#Does this count as Domestic Life??#Idk but anyway 🤷‍♀️#gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #azriel shadowsinger #gwynriel weeks 2024 #gwynriel fic

117 notes · View notes

crowleysgirl67 · 6 months ago

Text

Rescuing Romance

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 661

Parings/Characters: Reader, Bobby, Buck, Hen, Chim, Maddie,

Warnings: show warnings, broken bones,

A/N: Thanks for reading!

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“I need fire and rescue and a couple of ambulances to 1515 Vista view court the medical tower. I’m currently hanging upside down by my leg on the twelve floor stairwell.”

“Ok ma’am can you tell me your name?”

“It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m a doctor, we had a patient have a psychotic break. Tried to throw me over the railing. I managed to wedge my leg in the bars. Definitely broke it but at least I'm not dead yet.”

“Ok (Y/N), I’m Maddie. Helps on the way. Where is the patient now?”

“I gave him a sedative right as he got me over the railing. I cant see him exactly but I’m pretty sure he was by the stairs when the sedative took effect. He might be on the landing on the floor below.”

“Alright. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure I’ll find out when the adrenaline stops.”

“They’re arriving on scene now.”

Maddie stayed on the line with you until they arrived.

“LAFD; How’re you doin ma’am?”

“Oh ya know, hanging in there.” you heard one of them fail to stifle a laugh “I’m Dr. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N) is it? I’m Bobby, we’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Cool, I’ve been here probably 20 minutes. I feel like a damn bat.”

Another poorly disguised snicker happens above you as Bobby, who you assume is their Captain, gives orders. Soon enough you’re being carefully hauled up and attended to.

“How’re you doin?” the lovely lady who introduced herself as Hen asked.

“Eh, been better. Got a bit of a headache and my legs killin me. Which is about to get worse ain’t it?” you studied their faces.

“Yeah, sorry we’ve got to set this to be able to splint it properly.” the other one, Chim looked at you apologetically.

“We can give you something for the pain.” Hen offers.

You shake your head, “No. I don’t take narcotics unless absolutely necessary.”

“So you’re just gonna do this, no pain meds?” the young one, Bobby called him Buck, asks incredulously.

“Yup” you laid back as Hen stabilized your hips and Chim braced to put your leg back into place.

“Ready? We’ll do this on three.” Chim started.

You nod, “Let’s do it.” you took a deep breath.

Chim pulled on your leg and you ground your nails into the palm of your hand as you released a hiss of air. It hurt like a bitch. They splinted your leg as Buck looked at you wide eyed.

“Say what ya gotta say.” you looked up at him as you relaxed your hand.

“We just set your leg! No pain meds and you didn’t even make a sound!” he stared at you like you had two heads.

You let out a weak chuckle, “Not my first rodeo.”

They loaded you onto the stretcher while Buck hovered asking all sorts of questions.

“Buck.” Bobby started. “Leave her alone and help with this gear.”

“Right uh sorry Cap.” he grimaced and began to gather gear to take down.

“I’m sorry, he can be a little enthusiastic.” Bobby addressed you.

“He’s alright, I don't mind. How's my patient?”

“He’ll be fine, possible concussion but we’ve already handed him off to the ER downstairs.”

You nodded, “Well thank you for the rescue Captain I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t want to intrude.

You pulled a card from your pocket and scribbled your number on it before handing it to him, “Give me a call if you want to talk. You look like you do, and we both know you don’t have time while on duty.”

He took the card looking bewildered as you were wheeled away. He looked down at it before stuffing it in his pocket. He did have questions, maybe he’d give you a call after shift.

#911 #bobby nash x reader #bobby nash #911 fanfic

87 notes · View notes

f4g4um · 11 days ago

Text

Butch Dragonwoman Smut

Here it is, a little late but I did prommy. 5.5k words of filth. POV uses cunt, cervix, tdick, etc. Terato, dragon-lizard dick liberties, excessive cum, breeding.

Heavy petting with your girlfriend is lovely. Her scales are cool to the touch under your hands, and smooth as you glide them along her broad shoulders. You are more than excited when she gets so hot and bothered you can make out her bulge clearly from the outside of her cargo shorts, straining against the zipper.

Normally her bulge is hidden under her skin, but she seems to be enjoying this enough to swell. And when you pull her waistband down slightly and sink to your knees you gulp at the sight, wide eyed and flushed, then look back up at her. She has two heads- a hemipene. She had mentioned something like this offhandedly, but the sight is so… different. She meets your gaze almost nervously, though cleary twitchy. “If this is too much for you, you dont have to. I get it might be hard with our anatomical di-“ she cuts herself off with a squeak that turns into a whimper when you brush a curious finger over the head of one of her cool cocks. her eyes are screwed shut and her lip is bitten at the featherlight stimulation of your touch, and you find yourself endeared by this.

Her cocks are gorgous. Of course they are- they belong to her. The allure of their shapes, unique in a way that you just know youll never get tired of, cannot be understated. They look alien, which is GREAT news for you. Around the crown of each tip her heads flare out slightly, and they only really seperate for the top 4 inches or so, leading down to a few inches of thick shaft. You're so absorbed in your investigation and thorough examination of her cock that you completely miss the way she's whimpering above you.

When you take an opportunity to look up at her to see how she is reacting, you see her way more worked up than you expected she would be from the few and simple touches. You can tell both that she clearly hasn't gotten enough yet with your teasing hands, and also that she really enjoyed this sort of attention. Being inspected like this must be nerve wracking for her. She looks so turned on she's on the verge of begging you for anything.

You grin, and wonder if you should save penetration for another day and just get her off once or twice, enough to exhaust her. On second thought, with how long and wide her cock is, it might take a bit to stretch you enough to fit it without pain. You know for sure that as is, if you started riding her like you were craving then her tips would slam your cervix and leave you aching for days, no matter how wind knocking, breath stealingly good the pleasure would be. You lick your lips. The first thing on the agenda was to make her feel good enough that she begs to see what your lower body can do.

You take your hands from her shaft and plant one firmly on her hip, thumb stroking the scales. The other goes to gather the pre pearling atop her heads, and as you do she jerks her hips up and whines at the unexpected touch. You smile, then just as abruptly you place your hand fully on her shaft. You can feel her shudder a bit beneath you, can watch as her abs tighten and release and her muscles spasm, and you give her until she lets out a deep sigh to start your rhythm up.

A steady pace of strong, indulgent strokes, broken up by small kisses or kitten licks here and there, and she was pliant, and panting, her voice keening and high pitched when she moans. Her hips were attempting to thrust forward or jerk back every so often, and every now and then you would even let her indulge, her hips snapping forward so your hand met her base, her tips hovering just infront of your face. You let her rut her cocks against your tongue, pressing it flat against each one in an alternating pattern and swirling it around each cock head happily, humming so the vibration would reach her shaft.

You weren't really expecting it, too lost in your own picture of the situation and the lust it created. You were focused on her moans, on her noises, and your brain was too out of it to register her pleading warning of “I’m gonna, fuck,” or her hushed and whisper keened pleading of “god, pleasepleaseplease I’m so close, just a little more,” until her cum hit you straight on the cheek. It made you take pause, hand frozen where it rested along her cocks, able to feel every little pulse and every little jerk, feeling the cum travel up her shaft like one feels someone swallow when they put a hand against the neck. You were so mesmerized, and she was still blissed out, so you stood and took the first and second and third large loads that spurted from her tips. As you started to come back you noticed just how much cum she had. Her two heads gave 2 or three thick loads, each the same amount, and only then did the amount of cum start to decrease.

Even then though, spurt after spurt kept coming, hot load following hot load, leaking in an almost mesmerizing fashion. You of course, upon noticing how long her orgasm was taking, took it upon yourself to help her out a bit more. Your hand began its stroking again and with it she threw her head back and let out a wanton moan that you most definitely wanted to keep hearing. Her cock jerked in your hand and fired off another hot load with more force than some of the earlier ones, and you figured if you could, you might as well milk her.

Her moans were keening and whining and her hands were clutching at the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world, and gradually her loads became less pronounced, turning into a steady weeping from her cock, interspaced with jerks like her cock was trying to give more even if it didn't have it.

Her moans were still just as deseprate and keening, her body tensing and shaking then jerking each time her cock did, and fuck if that didnt make you horny. Her hands came down, weakly trying to bat yours away, but you just took it in your own and held it before increasing the pace of your strokes, her moaning now following her exhales, your pace setting both.

Then a minute or less later you felt her entire body tense up then start to shake, her panting growing loader and needier and her moans becoming softer, before her cock gave one last jerk upwards, trying so hard to give you anything it had left. With this her moans came back full force while you slowed your pace and loosened your grip before stopping eventually and putting your hands away, just watching as she caught up to herself.

A few minutes later and she seemed to be partially recovered, and you laugh when she sees how much cum ended up on you. you stand then kiss her forehead, asking how it was, and she lets out a sigh and says “Best I've ever had, thank you,” and you giggle and tell her that you'll be in the shower, making your way to the bathroom while thinking about nothing but her beneath you.

You strip and turn on the shower, thoughts still trained on the idea of her, cunt slick when your finger eventually dips below. You get into the shower, place an arm against the wall as the hot water hits your back, and start to stroke yourself. your moans start small and soft like chirps. You've never been very vocal, but had always had a certain thing for it when your partners were.

You don't notice the door cracking open or closing, or the woman behind the glass door of the shower until you let out a small whine and she knocks, startling you just a little bit and getting a small noise halfway between a squeak and a moan from your throat. She asks if she can join you and you quickly tell her she can, throwing the door open but ending up speechless at the sight of her, dual cocks hard again, maybe even harder than they were. She looks bashful, rubbing the back of her neck and not making eye contact, and you pull her in and start peppering her neck with kisses. she sighs and puts two broad hands on your waist, cock heads cold and tapping your stomach, refusing to be forgotten about.

She tells you it was cold in the bed, and that you made her cum so hard that she wanted to return the favor. You turn warm and red again at this, her eyes half lidded and licking her lips. You tell her she doesn't have to, but she insists she wants to, so you let her guide you this time.

She has you turn around and tells you she’s going to wash you, and to be fair it does just start out that way.

Kinda.

Her large broad hands, lathered in soap, trace your shoulders and your spine and back, then trace down to lower back, and when you're starting to get heavy lidded she wraps her arms around your middle and adjusts you so you are flush against her, able to feel her cocks against your back as she works. This fills you with a rush of arousal, suddenly becoming even more hyper aware of the sensation of her touch and letting out a small moan when those huge hands slide over your ribs and grab your chest, fondling you for a bit before slipping down further along your front. She soaps up the lines of your hips and her thumbs grace the skin that separates thigh and hip briefly before pulling away. Then she kneels behind your legs and begins massaging you while pressing small kisses to the backs of them.

She works her way up to your cunt and when she does she washes off her hands. At this point you are panting and eager, ready for any request she asks that will get you any stimulation. She spins you around so your front is to her then you watch as she slides down, crouching and putting her hands behind your thighs, then putting your thighs around her face. In leiu of explanation, she gives you a grin and tells you “Just cleaning you up babe,” before diving into your cunt like its her last fucking meal.

The way she has you held means you can't buck forward, so you just grab her horns and moan into your arm with your head thrown back. Her tongue slides up and down your already drenched slit, circling your tdick before trailing back down, tracing the spots that make your back arch away from the wall with the point of her tongue.

You writhe but feel your mind stop when you feel her thick, long tongue circling your entrance. You can feel what's coming but your brain doesn't have enough time to form any coherent thought about it before her tongue is deep in your cunt, curling and curving and thrusting in all the right ways. You knew she could use that tongue of hers, but you never thought she could use it like this. You are panting and whining, grabbing onto her horns desperately and trying pitifully to grind against her face or tighten your thighs or anything, while her strong grip on your legs keeps you stuck on her tongue, under the careful care of the woman who is wrecking you right now.

You start begging pretty quickly, already hot from the show she gave you earlier, so the whispered pleas for more, the small muffled curses, become unintelligible almost the moment the start. Her thrusts with her tongue are unrelenting, and she noticed when she hit the spot that made you gasp out and arch and hasn't stopped aiming for it every other thrust. What does you in is when she pulls her tongue from you, long and thick and god, so fucking good, and switches it out for her fingers, laving around your cunt for a while longer before latching onto your clit and sucking. You see stars, and you swear you nearly explode, still able to feel her fingers in their steady in and out, still able to feel the attention your clit is getting from her. You never really stop seeing stars for a bit, hysterical in pleasure and grinding your hips onto her 2 fingers that she has inside of you, but eventually you roll back to yourself already knowing you would need more.

Just from your look she can tell, and you two seperate to rinse off before rushing back to the bed. Her cock is already oozing pre when you grab the lube from the bedside drawer. You instruct her to warm it up on her fingers, and she asks you what you're going to do. You respond with exactly your plan, to ride her fingers until you think you can fit her cocks, and her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush. You feel her cock bob lightly, it hits your backside while you straddle her, and she eagerly holds out her hand for you, two fingers shimmering with lube.

You rise up so you stand on your knees, then pull her hand flush against your mound and have her fingers sink in all in one go. you let out a breath and let your head lull back slightly, closed eyes, and the hand on hers goes still for a moment before you hold it against your cunt, rubbing her palm against you trying to get friction on your clit with slow gyrating movements. She looks up at you seemingly mesmerized and you feel so hot.

You reach her hand that's pressed against your cunt, letting your fingers drag across your clit along the way, then pull her fingers out briefly to have her raise a third one. Her fingers are thick and strong, bumps from callouses providing that much more pleasure, and when you sink on them this time your head hangs forward and you use the hand not pinning her knuckle deep to brace yourself against the mattress. A few moments and your pace starts up slowly again, gradually increasing in speed and forcing little moans from you.

At 4 fingers, god, the woman under you moans when she feels her fingers sink into your heat, and you let out a long curse of a moan and need to use both hands to brace yourself against the matress. While you catch your breath, you feel as she pulls out just the littlest bit, then pushes in the same, and it pulls a small grunt from your mouth and a shudder from you. She begins to play with you more and all you can do is pant above her, your legs too weak to keep up the same movement as before. Her thumb presses against your clit and she starts to thrust properly now, and you can barely catch your breath between the moans and the pleasure.

Eventually she pauses her thrusting and you whine at the stop, wanting more, but she says in a strained voice, “Do you think you're ready? I don't know how long either of us are gonna last if this keeps up.” and you get your wits slightly more about you, still mourning how empty you feel when she pulls out her fingers.

You take a bit to reposition in a way that will be comfortable for you both and settle for you laying with your hips on a cushion and her thrusting in from off the bed. Having her in between your legs with her cock heads in her hand, one thumb parting your labia and the other grabbing your hips firmly, is a sight to behold, one that makes you squirm with excited anticipation. And she isn't one to disappoint.

Her fingers sneak forward first, rubbing at your clit, then her thumb pulling away your lips, then she sinks in 3 fingers again and you straighten up, not expecting it but laxing back into the mattress when you get used to it.

She pats your thigh and mutters an offhanded “good boy”, though she seems completely enveloped in her work, watching her fingers disappear and reappear from your hole. You interrupt her thrusting to tell her to add a fourth finger again, and as she does you feel your climax sneak up on you, right there, your moan of surprise loud. You hold back from letting yourself release knowing how good it would feel to cum around her cock, with her spilling into you and filling you with enough of her cum that you cant even keep it all in. and that thought right there nearly drives you to cum again.

You have her pause on her thrusts for a moment while you catch your breath, and she does, leaning forward and pressing kissing to your neck and chest. Shen she grinds her thumb against your clit and her 4 fingers even deeper you groan with pleasure and she bites you gently. she pulls back and gives a few more thrusts of her hand, making your eyes screw shut and you worry your lip between your teeth. Then she asks quietly, cock in hand, if you're ready, and you nod excitedly.

It's a struggle to get her inside at first. Her two cockheads are the first obstacle, needing to fit both in at once. You, for your credit, take it like a champ, but she has some trouble actually inserting her cock in and spends a bit of time fubbing her tips up and down your slit. Eventually though, she grabs you by the hips, pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, and pushes both her tips inside.

She pushes inside infuriatingly slowly. You feel her push, seeking your tight heat, her heads right there, right outside until finally she begins to sink inside. The stretch is still alot even after you both adjusted yourself a bit more, and you need a moment of discomfort with her about an inch and a half or two inches deep, before the pressure and pleasure starts to make you pant.

On her end, the moment she sinks even a bit into you she groans, loud and clear, and grips your hips even stronger. Your cunt is so tight and warm and wet around her, and though she waits for your signal to continue, she still shifts and tries to get any stimulation on the part of her cock not sheathed in you. She’s about an inch or inch and a half inside you and starts stroking the rest of her cock gently, jerking herself inside of you. The moment you give the sign she can fuck you further she needs to stop herself from just snapping forward, shaky hips clearly restraining themself, and when you feel your hole finally reach the thinner part of her cock you sigh and flex.

You can feel as a little bit of cum spurts from both heads at the movement, and you remember how quick she recovered, already making a plan on how to wear her out. As is though, you breathe out to get used to the size and tap her hand to pause her, only letting her go deeper when you start feeling like you need to shift and squirm to get more. You let her sink deeper and she is groaning, when you look up her eyes are unfocused and she's panting and drooling onto your tits, looking like she wants nothing more than to hug you flush with her and start humping you like a pathetic dog.

You nearly laugh at the sight but pity her and let her press forward a bit. as she does, one of her heads catches that part inside that makes you see stars and you tap her hand when your eyes widen and your back arches. You stay in that stalemate for a bit before you can stand to actually shift enough with the way her cock pushes and rubs against that spot, still shaking, to tap her hand again, and you realize just how big she is. From a glace, shes pretty long and obviously girthy, but when your paying attention to two tips, you put less priority on length.

But as she sunk into you, your eyes get wider and you start to wonder when she even ends. It seems longer when she's taking her time, and you know reasonably she's probably only about 8 or 9 inches, still big, but able to fit. But it feels like so much more as her thick length slides into you, your hole wet enough to let her do so, your entrance hugging her thinner shaft tight while her two heads no doubt are wrapped tight inside. She pushes and your hips are flush together, her cock deep within you, and her grip on your hips is enough to bruise. Her just staying there is making you pant heavier, your blush warmer and your body needier.

And wasn't that the picture for her, trying to keep her restraint, with you under her asking her to start thrusting. So she starts. Her pace is slow and unsteady, the sensation of being inside someone new and a different level. Your back arches when she pulls out just enough to catch your sweet spot, then pushes in and her hips stutter where your spot is and give a few short thrusts.

You are attempting to squirm or do anything to get more when she pulls you closer to her and starts snapping her hips into and out of you, causing you to curse and moan loudly. Her two heads filled you up so well and always hit just the right spot, and she would reach down to rub on your clit or around it every so often, her head back and panting as she fucks into you.

Eventually her hips start to stutter, quicker and shorter thrusts changing their pace and movement sporadically, and she falls over you, panting and saying “I’m gonna cum in you if I keep going, ‘msorry, you feel so good, so tight, I wanna fuck you but I cant stop myself without taking a moment.” You feel her cock twitch and throb inside of you, can feel the throbbing in your own cumt, and you ask her how long it takes her to recover. Her eyes widen when she realizes what you mean and she groans, her cock twitching inside of you again, and when yous squeeze around her you can hear her let out a small “fuck”.

She tells you it probably won’t take too long and you grin and roll your hips against her and ask how many times she can cum before it starts taking longer. She gulps, then grabs your hips and says ”I guess we can find out,” then begins thrusting again. She’s soft and inconsistent with her thrusts, it seems like it feels so good that she cant even do it, so you push yourself up then wrap your arms behind her neck and tell her to hold your thighs and sit down. When she picks you up you moan from the position change, her cock rubbing against your walls so nicely, and when she sits down the bounce from the bed bounces you up and down on her cock once and you whine.

Then you place your hands on her shoulders and start using them as leverage to ride her, this new position making her tips hit your sweet spot each thrust, and you bounce up and down. Soon she’s shaking under you, and you can tell she’s trying desperately not to start fucking up into you and bouncing you, and at this point you’re getting kinda weak, so you have her switch you two back around, but keep her hips flush with yours until you hear her start to curse at being held back, then you wiggle on her cock and ask her sweetly to fuck you hard.

And she meets your request perfectly. You can feel her cocks pounding in and out, pace quick and ruthless and so very perfect, and with each thrust as your body gets pushed back it rocks a moan from you. She keeps thrustsing even when her hips start to shake, and then she starts to fuck into you even harder, meeting your sweet spot hard and fast, every so often paising to grind deep and low into your cunt before starting her snapping pace again.

You feel your orgasm start to approach quickly again, letting it wrap around you while she humps you desperately and rubs at your tdick sloppy and unfocused, and you can feel yourself on the edge, teetering right over the precipice as she grinds into, then pulls and pushes and thrusts into you, and with one, two more brushes off your g spot you’re almost there, but when her hips stutter right where your g spot is and she begins to angle her short brutal thrusts straight for it? You stood no chance.

You squeeze around her cock as she builds you higher and higher, moans getting louder and louder, and then you hear her start to babble and moan too, “Oh fuck, gonna cum inside you, you’re gonna be so full, take it all so nicely, you did so good, felt so good, such a good boy,” and then you cum around her cocks, and you can feel her still fucking you through it with the same pace, babbling and whining and moaning into the sheets, humping desperately into you as she gets so close, so close to her release, and her hips are still angled to hit your spot, pushing grunts and breathless sighs out of you every time, and she starts to rub gently at your clit again, and then you feel her hips jerk and her body stiffen and her thrusts get more desperate and erratic and she whines and keens above you, whispering how good you were, then she shoves herself as deep as she can reach inside you and groans, and you can feel her shoot her load inside of you, feel how it fills you, feel how her cocks twitch and she shudders and how her cocks move with the force of the ejaculation, and you wrap your legs around her hips and grind into her cock even further, causing her to groan and double over on top of you.

Her hips jerk sometimes, and you feel an especially strong load coming in, and soon enough you can feel her cum start to run out of you, no way the amount she produces would ever fit. Then a pulse of her cum escapes from your entrance, then another, your cunt desperately squeezing and trying to keep all her cum in you only succeeding in making her groan and moan and ejaculate more into you. You continue squeezing around her and giving her more stimulation to keep her orgasm going, getting worked up again by doing this, and eventually you feel her start to move to pull away. You stop her by wrapping your legs around her waist where the two of you are connected and you shoot her a grin. You tell her that until you‘ve milked her dry, her cocks need to be warm, don't they? She’s a dragon after all- a type of lizard.

She picks you up and you both clean up the cum that leaks from your hole, needing to work around the strange positioning, but eventually the two of you are on the couch with some random movie pulled up, shirts and things that could barely pass for pants slipped around thighs, her still buried to her hilt in your cunt. It doesn’t even take that long for her to harden again inside you, it's more just for fun now. you shift and squirm and grind down on her lap and she tries to keep herself from moaning or bucking up, and that way you edge yourself together.

But the nights been too exciting, and you are more eager than usual to get to actually cumming, so you keep the actual subtle moves to a minimum and more often than not just grind down on the cock buried in you or wiggle your hips, or even just shove your hands down your pants and paw at yourself and moan, paying close attention to the little movements, the twitch of the cock inside you, the shake of her hips, the way her grip on your waist tightens, and soon enough you forget about the movie in favor of the orgasm fast approaching you.

You sit on her lap, with your back against her chest and her cock buried in your cunt, and you start getting close, spurred on each time you feel her hands tighten when you whine or the way her hips jerk and almost bounce you. Then, when you're so close you start babbling and murmuring nonsense pleas or “please pleaseplease so close,” she starts snapping her hips up fully into your cunt, bouncing you each time and making you moan wanton and loud. One of her hands at the same time reaches around and moves away your own hand to start stroking your tdick, and she brings her face to your shoulder and neck and begins teething and sucking lightly at it.

You whine loudly and she starts pulling you in harsher, stronger, and it makes your back arch and you whimper as you climax again, squeezing down hard on her cock, and you feel a bit of cum slip down your inner thigh. She keeps fucking you, setting a brutal pace and making you whine as you get fucked so hard you start to drool, then suddenly it stops.

You whine in protest, partly to try to get her to start again, but stop when she picks you up. She brings you to the bathroom and she lifts you up so you are still pressed against her front, but now you can see yourself in the mirror, and god what a sight you are.

Sweaty, neck covered in purple marks, blush heavy on your cheeks and eyes half lidded, lips kissed and bitten pink, with strong hands wrapped around your thighs that lift you up so you can see where you and her connect, your legs spread to show off the two of you. And the next thing she does, it nearly knocks the breath from you when you realize.

She wants you to watch her fuck you, wants you to watch how she thrusts into you, watch as your face becomes more and more fucked out. you blush brightly but you don't stop her, instead keep your gaze on her cock as slowly she pulls out, then shoves you back down onto her. Fuck, that was hot in a completly different way. The way she slides inside looks so lewd, and it’s filthy how easy you’ve made it for her.

She bounces you, keeps bouncing you, and the heat grows and grows until you cum, a loud groan and a muttered curse, and you realize you've squirted. You watch it drip down her cock and your face goes even redder somehow, but it doesn't seem like she cares, she just starts pumping into you again, and you can feel how heavy her breathing has gotten with her eyes fixed on the mirror, and yours are too, moaning and whimpering every so often.

She starts groaning gently, her hips start jerking faster, and you squeeze around her to try to give her more. Some of her cum leaks out of you and you whine. Her pace is brutal and enough to make you moan and get close to the edge again, so you meet her thrusts halfway and then you watch in the mirror as she buries herself as deep as she can go and ejaculates. You feel it again, feel how intense and how much there is, but now you see it and you can't tear your eyes away. Her cock buried deep in your cunt, twitching as she gasps into your ear, with her cum being too much to even fit and spilling out of you.

Your stomach clenches at this and her hips jerk up on reflex, and you feel her load get big again, her seed pouring into you, and at the feeling of being filled, so deeply and wholly, you can't help but to shudder around her cock and climax with her, again, her helping you ride it out with each spurt of cum and little twitch, the sight of the pair of you in the mirror making you dizzy.

#tiger tea time #me beast #trans nsft #t4t #nsft #nsft writing #terato #dragonborn #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x you #monster fucker #teratophillia #teratophilia art #butchbait #butch 4 butch #butch nsft #terato writing #terato fic

53 notes · View notes

newwritergirl · 6 months ago

Text

Starting over | Part 12

Masterlist

This is the new part of my TopGun fic. You can once again skip this part, if you don't like steamy filthy smut. There's no important plot, so you can wait for the next chapter. No problem!

MINORS DNI!!! This is pure smut!

Summary: The three have a steamy time in the shower. No plot, just smut!

Trigger warnings: pure smut! 18+, minors DNI! piv (wrap it before you tap it! this is fiction), some dirty talk

Word count: 2.2k +

A/N: Please let me know if my choice of words is wrong or embarassing, English is not my first language and this is my second smut writing and I want to encrease my writing constantly. Thanks for all the support!

Strong arms are enveloping y/n from behind. In the past it would have made her flinch, a man hovering above her always meant incoming pain or at least a threat. But nowadays it makes her whole body fill with a warmth, lets her shiver, pure tender electricity is spreading through her body.

“What are you doing, cupcake?” Jake graces the shell of her ear as he lowers his head to softly kiss her neck. His plump lips on her delicate neck make moan and wiggle in his arms.

“Jakey, it’s my turn to cook dinner for us, so hop under the shower, you’re smelling like jet fuel and sweat.” Y/n turns around and looks up at the blonde aviator who is still in his flying suit. To see her boyfriends in their flying suits or in their uniforms is always a sight for sore eyes. She absolutely adores them in their work attire.

“We thought you could join us in the shower. Let’s order some food later…” Jake hoists her up as if she weights nothing and sits the squealing woman on the kitchen counter. He opens her legs as wide as he can with her still wearing her pencil skirt. With a firm grip he grabs her delicate hips and nuzzles his head in the crook of her neck, softly sucking on her sensitive spot above her collarbone.

“Rooster is already waiting in the shower to get it warm for our girl.” He tells her between kisses and soft love bites.

“Two naked aviators all wet and soapy? Show me the way Lieutenant Commander Seresin.”

Her answer makes him grin devilishly. “That’s the answer I needed to hear. But first let’s get rid of this skirt and blouse of yours. As much as I like to see you in this sexy pencil skirt and the blouse, we need you naked…”

---

The shower spray feels like a warm blanket on her skin. She can’t help but let out a small whimper as she feels strong hands massaging the flowery shampoo into her hair, short nails scraping over her head occasionally. She buries her head into the warm and wet chest of the brunette aviator in front of her when Jake starts to wash out the foam which surrounded her silky hair. To be in the shower with both her boyfriends feels so intimate, the vulnerability of being naked wet and huddled into the space of the shower isn’t as intimidate as she feared. She feels so safe with Jake and Bradley.

Y/n starts stroking Bradley’s abs up and down and places soft kisses on his muscular chest. His heartrate picks up as the touch of her small hands nearing his already hard member. Behind the smaller woman Jake completes his task to wash his girlfriend’s hair. His hand now wandering down her neck and further down to the swell of her breasts. When his strong hands stroke over her sensitive nipples she shudders and buries her head once more into Bradley’s chest.

“Are you cold, baby?” Jake whispers into her ear “Should we make the water warmer?”

She can’t form a coherent sentence right now, the feeling of both aviators touching her naked and wet body almost too much for her. She looks up at Bradley when she lets her hands wander further down to cup his big cock, giving him a stroke with her hands. To steady himself he reaches out and grabs Jake’s shoulders and hisses as y/n starts to fist him a bit tighter. The blonde aviator enjoys the play of his partners in front of him. He’s still intrigued with their whole situation. He and Rooster love the same girl, not only sharing a house but sharing a bed, sharing the same love for this gorgeous woman in front of him. And still he doesn’t feel a whiff of jealousy, not even now when both of them are making out heavily. Actually watching the two is making his heart swell even more, well not only his heart. He’s just as hard as Rooster, nearly painfully hard and heavily aroused watching the small woman stroking Rooster’s remarkable cock. The same cock he tasted days ago.

After giving y/n’s nipples one last pinch he lets his hands wander down further. Her body is so warm because of the hot water of the shower. He needs to feel her, wants to feel her clenching on his fingers, hear her whimper when he strokes her sensitive clit. Jake presses his chest flush to the woman’s back to get better access to her sweet folds.

“Can I make you feel good, sweet girl? Can I get you ready for Bradley? I think he wants to feel you today, your tightness…” She leans her head on the broad chest behind her and closes her eyes as she feels Jake’s fingers stroking over her aroused folds. Her heart nearly stops when she suddenly feels Bradley’s mouth sucking her right nipple, his mustache scraping over her breast sends electricity through her body.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” The blonde aviator whispers into the woman’s ear as he teases her wet entrance. Without warning he inserts two fingers into y/n’s tight pussy. Her knees buckle at the intense feeling. Fortunately his other arm has a strong hold on her upper body and prevents her from tumbling down. To steady herself y/n reaches out and grabs the bulging biceps of the man in front of her, her nails digging into his flesh. Bradley enjoys the view of Jake fingering their girlfriend. With her eyes still closed she clearly savors the feeling of the blonde aviator’s fingers inside her.

“Jaaake…” Y/n shouts, her voice echoing in the big master bathroom. Jake takes her cry of pleasure as a confirmation to go a bit faster, his pointer and middle finger stretching her tight entrance further his thumb slowly rubbing circles over her swollen clit.

“You want to feel Bradley’s cock inside of you, baby? Look at him, how he enjoys your sexy view. Open your eyes, baby. Let him see your beautiful eyes.”

Y/n opens her eyes to see the brunette aviator pumping his raging cock, looking directly into her eyes. He bends down and captures her upper lip, softly sucking and biting it before his tongue requests entrance. They kiss grows passionately as Jake’s fingers still plunging into her soft folds, hitting her G-Spot occasionally. He feels her tighten and clenching around his fingers but before she has the chance to come on his digits he stops his actions. She was so close but he stops, her eyes fly open, her ass bumping into his crotch out of frustration.

“Nah nah nah, baby. I want you to come on Rooster’s cock. You ready to feel him?” Jake teasingly says, clearly pleased with y/n’s desperate reaction.

“Please, Bradley. I need you…” She grabs his cock in a firm painful hold, showing him how badly she needs him right now.

“So needy our girl. Come on, princess. Let me feel you. Want to feel how wet you are for me.” Bradly cups her ass with his hands and gives her the go to jump up on him. Jake supports her from behind and helps the smaller woman to hop onto the taller aviator in front of her. She locks her legs around Rooster’s hips, feeling his hard cock poking her lower belly. When he’s sure that she’s not in danger to fall down, he releases one hand from under her bum and grabs his big cock and slowly rubs the head up and down y/n’s aroused sex. She starts to rock back and forth, desperate to feel his member inside of her.

“Easy girl. We don’t want you to get hurt.” Jake tries to calm her down when he tightens his grip on her hips to steady her a bit more, afraid she would fall down with her rocking.

Bradley teases her entrance with the swollen head of his member and turns them both around so that her back is now at one of the tiled shower walls. When the cold tiles touch her back she lets out a squeal which turns instantly into a long moan when Bradley finally sinks into her. He gives her some time to adjust to his size. Her head falls onto his shoulder her mouth agape when small whimpers leaving her wet lips.

Jake takes a step forward to be nearer to his both partners, his painfully hard cock in one of his hands.

“Bradley, more. Please more.” She instructs between moans and whimpers. She wants to feel him completely inside her, like she felt Jake days ago. Rooster tightens his grip on her hips once more as he lets himself sink deeper into the woman in front of him. His eyes squeeze shut unable to hold the whine that leaves his throat. Warm water runs down his muscular back but all he can feel is the sensation of y/n clenching around his member. She feels so warm and tight and her small moans are driving him wild. He starts to thrust in a slow and steady rhythm, feeling Jake beside him stroking his back. Y/n’s legs tighten around him as he finds the right angle to thrust into her.

“You’re so big. Oh my God, please Bradley right there.” Y/n sputters as the brunette aviator hits the sensitive spot inside her. The cold tiles on her back with the warm water coming out of the shower head and the strong thrusts from Bradley are creating a mixture of explosive feelings. Her body starts to shudder and she gently bites into Bradley’s shoulder.

Jake sneaks one hand between both his partners and starts to fondle with y/n’s breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples with his fingers. His other hand furiously fisting his cock.

“Fuck y/n. You’re taking me so good. Oh Jesus…” Bradley picks up the pace, the sight of the young woman so aroused and nearly able to speak and his partner beside him stroking his cock and playing with the young woman’s sensitive nipples makes him feral.

“You look so sexy, y/n. I want so see you come, I want to see both of you come. Come for me.” Jake moans as his hand release y/n’s nipples, just to wander further down to touch her sensitive clit.

Her moans growing louder and she tries to bounce faster on Bradley’s cock. Over and over he hits her sweet spot, chasing his own orgasm relentlessly, but restrains himself a bit more. He wants to come with her, feeling her clenching on his cock, milking him while she shatters from her orgasm.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop Bradley.” Y/n shouts as she feels her own orgasm not too far away. Her back arches away from the cold tiles when she starts to shudder. Her hips buck at the sensation of Bradley’s huge member inside of her and Jake’s hand circling her clit. She feels so full and stimulated. Bradley feels her clenching on him more, biting his shoulder so hard he’s sure it will leave a mark. But he doesn’t care, the only thing he wants is to make their girl feel good.

Y/n sees stars she feels the tight knot in her stomach exploding. Her vision grows white when the earth shattering orgasm hits her. She feels Bradley pumping into her, feeling his member switch his whole body shuddering but never loosen his grip on her hips. Jake comes with them, hitting Bradley’s thigh with his hot cum. He stops the gente circling around y/n’s clit as to not overstimulate her further.

Bradley nearly can’t catch his breath as he slowly comes down from his high. His heart is beating so fast in his chest like if he had run a marathon. He feels the body of the woman in his arms go limp and with the help of Jake he sets her down on her feet. Her knees buckle and he cradles her small shaking body in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

Jake turns off the water which is already cold by now and hurries out of the shower to get towels for him and his partners but especially for y/n who seems to be out of it once more.

When he comes back, having a big fluffy towel in store, he sees his partner still cradling and holding up the limp body of the smaller woman.

“Let’s wrap her up in the towel and lay her down in your bed.” Bradley suggests a bit concerned that she once again is not really responsive.

---

Y/n’s eyes slowly flutter open as she feels herself being carried out of the bathroom. “Roo-y?”

“Hey, princess. You’re okay. Let’s rest a bit in Jakey’s bed okay? You fainted on us again.”

Bradley gently places her body on the soft mattress of the blonde pilot’s bed. When she feels the mattress dips beside her she instantly snuggles into the man laying down next to her.

“That’s so embarrassing. I’m sorry…” She hides her face in Bradley’s chest.

“Hey, look at me.” He tilts her head to look her in the eyes. “That’s not embarrassing. We’re just concerned when you pass out on us. Maybe we’re too eager, too intense or rough with you, I don’t know…”

“No, please… It was so earth shattering, so good like the first time. You two make me feel so good. Please never stop to make feel this way…” Y/n kisses the brunette pilot to make sure he knows how good she feels after having sex with them.

@djs8891

@megalony

@darksparklesficrecs

#hangman x reader #rooster x reader #tgm #new writer #jake seresin x reader #top gun fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun

75 notes · View notes

sorceresssundries · 6 months ago

Text

Gale sketches by @orangekittyenergy <3

CHAPTER 2 (of 2)

Link to chapter 1 here

Pairing: Gale x Fem Tav

Summary: Set post-game where Tav did not feature in Gale's troubles in Baldur's Gate. A whip-cracking, fedora wearing, Indiana Jones inspired mini-adventure - where Professor Dekarios is tempted out of the classroom, and on yet another perilous quest.

Warnings: THIS IS NSFW! *blares smut horn* Plot with smut. But, you have been warned.

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Just a bit of a fun based on the Gale as Indiana comparisons. Also, he looks like a young Harrison Ford, how could I not? This is not the stuff I'm used to writing! But it's been enjoyable and nice to try something new.

Elltavia’s senses were prickling again, whatever was buried in the remains of this temple was beating like a rotted heart, pulsing decay and corruption outwards through the forest. They were close to the cause, she could feel it. She just hoped whatever was the cause of the infection didn’t get to her before she could save her home.

Along the far wall of the room were four murals that stood out in a line. The once clean, carved scenes were eroded and time-beaten, but just about decipherable.

The four images depicted monks in various states of torment. The first monk strained under the weight of a massive rock, muscles taut with effort as it pressed down upon him. The second monk, blood dripping from his hand and ears, was feverishly inscribing words upon a scroll, clearly in agony. In the third panel, a monk appeared submerged and drowning beneath a cascade of shimmering gold, his features twisted and bloated.

The final tableau showed two figures, stripped bare, entwined in an act that should have been pleasurable. However, their expressions were ambiguous, dancing somewhere between ecstasy and agony. The knife suspended ominously above their heads left little doubt about their fate.

Underneath each carving was a word in an ancient language, which Gale was able to translate.

STRENGTH. KNOWLEDGE. WEALTH. LUST

Hovering above the scenes of suffering was a much larger image of a monk in resplendent robes, his hands covering his eyes as he sat before a closed book as if to shield himself from an unbearable truth. The book sat on a carved pedestal, and shimmered with golden light. The lines of the monk’s robes flowed gracefully, dancing in a breeze that no longer existed. The expression of the hidden face was left to the imagination, but Gale’s imagination didn’t have to work very hard. The monk was shielding himself from whatever was written in that book.

Gale‘s chest suddenly went tight, as though the orb that had once branded his skin and burned an aching, insatiable hunger within him was back. The ghost of a pain which would never truly leave him. He couldn’t help but see himself in the image, as though it was a mocking interpretation of his great folly.

Unlike this monk, when he was tempted, he had not been strong enough to cover his eyes. He had suffered the same torment as the other tortured souls. It wouldn't have seemed out of place to see a carving of a wizard with a dark orb branded upon his chest, bent over and crippled by unending pain and sharp regret. His hand once again absentmindedly moved to his chest.

“What is in that book, do you think?” Elltavia was started to get concerned by the faraway look in Gale’s eyes. She had not known him long, but she knew it was unlike him to be this quiet. Whether in a classroom, or on an adventure - he was a born teacher. He had the engaging, adaptable, patient, rare soul of someone who had collected knowledge like precious treasure, and all he seemed to ever want to do is share it. He was not made to be silent, and it worried her.

"Fortune and glory, Kidd." Gale continued to read the fragile inscriptions—warnings, death sentences, holy scriptures, and gold-tinted promises of doom for the unworthy. Yet, for those with the resolve to grasp it, an ultimate blessing. "Fortune and glory."

After more studying, Gale pressed his hand against an indent in the wall, and a rumbling echoed around them.

"I think we've found where the ritual would take place," he murmured.

The carved, ancient pedestal holding the book shown in the mural rose from the ground in the room’s centre, a half-decayed corpse resting against it, its mouldering hand still holding the book open, as if in a final, desperate grasp for whatever it contained.

"That book should not be open." Gale could feel the power emanating from it, warping and stretching the weave of magic around it. This was no ordinary spellcraft; it was far beyond his capabilities. Once, he would have been desperate to grasp it, to drink the forbidden magic until it drowned him. A long time ago, It almost had.

The source of the blight was finally clear. The book had to be closed, or the rot would continue to spread, cursing the forest and luring as many as it could to this place. The book was a lure, a power to draw people here to be tested, indifferent to the fate it bestowed upon them. The burning ache of the sussur, which had been simmering under his skin, began to flare and bubble. His magic tingled in his bones, demanding to be used, to cast protection over him. His mind was flooded with the weave, and the agony of not being able to use it was overwhelming.

“Close the book!” He hissed through clenched teeth, doubled over in pain.

Elltavia approached the book tentatively, with ranger’s care. The closer she got, the more Gale’s words became a far-away song, trailing distantly away from the fluttering pages. Each turn caused a soft rustle; leaves whispering secrets in a forest grove. It was the sound of her home, and it was calling to her. The book cast a gentle glow, soft as yellow moonlight. And with every intake of breath, she could swear the scent of pine mingled with the earthy perfume of petrichor sank deep, holding and soothing her.

Surely within its pages lay the answers they were looking for. It called out to her with a sweetness that stirred her soul, a siren's song promising sanctuary. The glowing page was right there in front of her, she just had to read the inscription…

I am the lure in darkest gloom, A whispered hope, a flick'ring bloom. In greed-drenched shade, I bide my time, Thy greatest urge will feed my shrine.

What am I? A tempter, sly, In every soul, doth ever lie. Resist the call for but one hour, Prevail, and gain the worthy’s power

“Elltavia, NO!”

And she burned.

It felt as though tendrils of flame were invading her through her nose, her mouth, sinking through her skin, licking the very bones of her. It was tugging at her, calling to her, scalding all the way through her. She was a woman aflame, and there was only one way to extinguish the fire. She needed Gale, and she needed him now.

He rushed over, and managed to close the book - but not before catching a glimpse of the inscription within. As soon as he had read the words, the book and pedestal began to descend ominously back into the ground.

“Gale..” Elltavia’s voice was suddenly breathy and skin clammy as Gale grabbed hold of her and started to check her over.

“It’s the test, Kidd.” He appraised her pupils to see that they were blown wide, her breathing heavy. The spell was undeniably affecting her, not just emotionally but physically too. Her skin glimmered with a light sheen of sweat. Were her lips fuller, even more inviting than before? Surely it was a trick of the light? The urge to press his own against them, to run his tongue along her bottom lip, was all-consuming.

He pulled away abruptly, almost harshly, startled by the intensity of his desire. He had anticipated challenges to his resolve, but not in this way. He had mentally prepared himself for his ambition, his hubris, his self-worth to be cut out and dissected in front of him, to once again have to pull himself back from the brink of his unending desperation to prove himself. It was his tragic flaw, it always would be. He had not prepared himself for this.

The atmosphere crackled with a potent mix of heat and something deeper, something elemental. Lust. It hung thick in the air, dense and suffocating. It wrapped around him like a lover’s embrace, seeping into the marrow of his bones. He was suddenly starving, and she was ripe and ready to be savoured. He remembered when she had bitten the apple from his desk. How her eyes had met his as she bit down, how the juice had trailed down from the side of her lips to her chin…

“It sai..said.” Elltavia had her arms wrapped around herself, as though trying to hold herself back, and Gale desperately wanted to unfurl them and spread her out on the ground like a map. There was priceless treasure to be discovered. He ached from not touching her.

“It said something about lure.. Temptation..” Her breathing was heavy and lust-soaked. “Resist for an hour.. And we’ll pass the test.”

An hour of this, he thought bleakly, he did not know how he would stop himself from devouring her.

“I have rope” she panted “In my pack. You should tie me up.”

His response to that was a low, feral groan which seemed to rumble from deep within his chest. “I don’t think bondage will help me out here, Kidd.”

Struggling against this overwhelming desire was futile; he was a weary child resisting the pull of the receding tide, or a final leaf clinging to its branch before the onslaught of autumn's chill. He was no match for her; he was a raft-bound castaway - and she was the oncoming tempest.

Together they melted into a pool of tongue and hands, rushed and heavy. There was no softness or words of delicacy, no declarations or promises of what would come after. There was only urgency. There was only her and him and now. At the meet of their lips and the ripping of her shirt underneath his strong, tanned hands there was a rumbling noise which ripped around them and caused loose stone and dust to fall from the ceiling. The shock of it managed to distract them long enough to prise themselves away from each other. The second they pulled apart, the noise stopped.

“An earthquake?” He questioned through rough panting, speaking out loud rather than to her in particular. He quickly moved to one of the far walls and ran his hands over it, feeling for any structural damage and waiting silently for an aftershock.

As soon as his fingers stroked the grooves in the stone, Elltavia was behind him. She pushed him against the wall, and pressed herself against his back, standing on her tiptoes to lick and bite at the nape of his neck.

“Who cares?” She whined. Her hands made their way up the back of his shirt and she dragged her nails down his skin. The sound he made was sinful, and as soon as her tongue licked at the sweat trailing down his spine, the rumbling started again. This time they were both knocked backwards by the wall Gale was pressed against, as it started to straighten out and move towards them.

“Fuck.” He groaned, on his back. He could barely think straight, all his focus and all his blood was currently gathered in hard desperation between his legs. Urging to be sank into the ranger panting on the floor next to him.

She swung her leg round to mount herself on top of him, pinning him to the ground under her hips.

“Wait” he hissed through gritted teeth. She managed to stop herself from sucking on his bottom lip long enough to hear what he wanted to say, she desperately hoped it would be something filthy. Her restraint in her longing for his mouth didn’t stop her grinding her hips down against him. She gasped at how hard he was underneath her. To her shock, he grabbed her upper arms and managed, with difficulty, to push her off him and he sprang up and backed away from her with his arms out.

“Listen, Kidd, when we give into our temptation, to our urge, it sets off the trap.”

She tried to take in what he was saying, and she used her sharp, predator’s focus to survey the room. She had not previously noticed the heavy layer of dust which had settled on the holy ground. Bonedust. The bleak realisation sank in. This was all that was left of others who had been tested. The book was an incendiary, designed to spark simmering desire into a roaring flame. Resist it, or be crushed.

“I am your temptation?” She rasped. “Gale, of all the fucking things to desire?!”

“You’re one to talk!” He snapped. The cord that felt wrapped around him was tightening in frustration. This woman was literally going to be the death of him. This stubborn, infuriating, smart-ass was how he was going to die. He wanted to take his whip out and coil the leather around her…

“Fuck!” He said, turning around so he could no longer see her pouring out of her sweaty, ripped shirt.

“The temptation is each other… right?” She breathed.

“Obviously.”

“Then… then we can still.. Touch ourselves, can’t we?”

It was like pouring oil on a bonfire, the thought of her unbound and lost in her own touch, bringing herself to the brink of pleasure and plunging over a cliff of her own making was unbearable. He wanted to palm himself right there in front of her just from the thought of it.

She didn’t wait for him to answer, her hand quickly found its way into her underwear and to where she needed it most. She was a writhing mess on the floor - but the walls did not move.

He sank and crawled to her, and positioned himself over her, resting his forearms on the ground next to her shoulders, clenching his fists in frustration and caging her beneath him, but not touching her. He allowed one of his knees to push her thigh upwards, splaying her further apart. But he did not give her any further contact. He just held himself over her as she moaned and bucked her hips into her own hand. His gaze was as desperate and intense as any touch could be. Beads of sweat traced paths down his temple, falling onto her skin like liquid fire. Every inch of her felt alive, every nerve alight with anticipation. As he lowered his head, his breath danced against her neck, tantalisingly close yet never touching. His lips hovered, a mere whisper away, and she teetered on the edge of combustion.

“I’ve wanted you since you flashed your thigh at my desk.” His voice was almost unrecognisable, dark as sin itself. The lilt of his words caressing her skin. “I wanted to be that fruit on your tongue. The flesh on your lips.” She gasped, but could not respond. Her eyes fluttered shut as she imagined how he would taste as he spilled herself down her throat in ecstasy.

“Don’t you dare stop looking at me.” He growled.

Her eyes flashed open again to meet his, and his command would have sent her spiralling, but something was wrong.

“I can’t.. It won’t…” She removed her hand in desperation, and it took every ounce of resilience he had not to grab hold of her wrist and drag her lust-soaked fingers between his teeth and roll his tongue against them. “It just makes it worse.”

The walls were still at each end of the room, they had barely moved. The two of them were safe, maybe there was time to…

“Fuck it.” He said, and he lifted her robe and tore her underwear off her. Gods, the scent of her. He wanted to spend a whole day with his nose buried at the source of her divine, needy musk.

He did not have a whole day, he had minutes at most.

“Is this what you want?” He asked, shaking with the resolve it took to show her the decency she deserved.

“No” She responded, but before he could even attempt to pull himself away from her, she wrapped her powerful warrior's thighs around him and flipped them so he was beneath her.

“This is what I want.”

She turned round above him so her cunt was hovering over his face, just out of reach. This position gave her the chance to unbuckle his belt and finally get her hands where she wanted them. There was no time to undress him, to peel him out of his tight trousers the way she wanted to. This would have to do. He moaned beneath her as she finally freed him from his confinement, and without grace or hesitation - took the whole of him into her mouth.

In response, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her down against his lips. Locking her tight against him, he groaned and pushed his tongue into her. The taste of her was technicolour. He worked as quickly as he could to relieve the tight, coiling need which was squeezing the life out of them, but not quickly enough.

The walls had pushed towards them quicker than he anticipated, and it wasn’t long until he felt the hard force of it suddenly pressing against his feet.

Elltavia must have become aware at the same time he did, because her mouth was suddenly off him and she rolled away, completely disentangling them and stopping the movement of the walls.

They were both slick with sweat, and with each other.

“Get over to the far end. Now.” He snapped at her. The narrowing of the walls had now turned the large, circular room into a slim corridor. It would only take a couple more metres of movement and they would be crushed to dust.

“Do not bark orders at me!” She retorted with a hiss. “That is really not helping the situation!” She retreated as far away as him as possible, pressed her thighs together, and put her hands over her ears so she couldn’t hear his heavy, laboured breathing.

The hour may as well have been a day. They faced away from each other, breaths heavy and skin slick with sweat. They had both tried to cover themselves back up with what little material had not been ripped. At this moment the threat of being crushed by the weight of an ancient temple wall seemed inconsequential compared to the overwhelming intensity of this moment. Gale thought that If this were to be his end, he would welcome it with open arms. At one point in his life, he had resigned himself to the fact he would die alone at the order of a pitiless Goddess. What a privilege it would be then, to die in the arms of a merciful one. In the arms of Elltavia Kidd’Alka.

He thought of her as he faced the wall. He thought of her in every way except the one which had pushed its way to the front of his mind and coursed its way through his blood. He thought of her fierce loyalty to her home, how she had travelled far and risked her life. How she was blunt and forthcoming and how she refused to dull any of her bladed wit. He thought of the shimmering seasons of her eyes, of how long it must take her to braid her hair, how she has the wisdom of an elder and the bright laugh of a child. He thought of how much he wanted her to live, and how much he wanted to see her again. And suddenly, the urge simmered - it was there, but it no longer suffocated him. He could breathe. His lust had been mixed with something else, and the sweet combination had strengthened his resolve. He could do this.

Elltavia thought of the forest. Of her home. Of the children who fell out of trees and laughed in the dirt that caught them. Of the people who had spent their lives telling stories and weaving tradition through play and prayer. Of the mothers who had fletched arrows with babes at their breast. She remembered the first time she summoned an animal, and how the swift spring bird had flitted between branches and sunbeams to settle upon her shoulder. She remembered the poor autumn fox which she had found dead from the spreading curse. She would beat this. She would return home, and she would show Gale the place they had saved together. Her blood cooled, her resolve steeled. She could do this.

An hour passed in silence. The two of them focused and determined. Two people who ached enough to not touch each other. And it worked.

Suddenly, it was as though they had emerged from holding their breath in ice water. The walls rumbled and slowly retreated back to their stations.

“Is it over?” Elltavia spoke quietly, too nervous to turn round or remove her hands from her ears. Her answer came when a strong, comforting hand placed itself on her shoulder and she didn’t burn from the touch. She let Gale turn her, and take the hands from her ears to kiss them.

“Not for me'' He said gently, stroking her cheek and tucking a braid behind her ear. Before he could kiss her properly, without magical kindling feeding his flame for her, the book reappeared. It fluttered once more, and settled on its final page.

“Is it safe?”

“I think so” He said, more calmly than he felt. “We passed the test.”

He made his way to where the soft glow welcomed him to read, and spoke the book’s final inscription aloud…

Behold, two souls of spirit true Live long - old magic rests in you.

“If this is some bullshit about how the power was inside us all along, I'm going to be really annoyed.” Elltavia was still breathless, but relieved.

“Maybe…” He said thoughtfully, but from the book and the murals and tenacity of the ancient magic, Gale didn’t believe that was the case. There must be the mentioned ‘reward’ somewhere… But, he was not interested. Godly gifts he could live without. There were other things more worthy of his attention now. Other desires to fulfill.

“What do we do about the book?” she asked, closing it and running her finger over the cover. “Will you take it to the Academy?”

“No. This belongs here. It’s as much a part of the forest as you are.” He turned to look at her, her bright eyes fierce, “You know what lies here now, you can tell your community - you can spread the story and let them become guardians of magic and knowledge. And this can stay here… closed.”

He bent down and kissed her, soft but purposeful. Full of the promise of things to come.

“You know, Kidd. Before you dropped by my lecture I was reading about this amulet…”

She entwined her fingers with his as they made their way back into the lush greenery of her vibrant forest home. “Sounds interesting professor, I take it the next adventure would also require you to bring along your whip?”

“Oh, most definitely. I could give you another demonstration now if you’d like?”

Her bright laugh echoed through the trees as they walked into the distance, unaware of the ancient gift bestowed upon them by the temple in the forest. Perhaps one day, Gale would notice his hair wasn't greying as quickly, or that the furrows between his eyes no longer deepened despite the endless days of laughter shared with Elltavia. Maybe then, they would realise they had been chosen as timeless protectors: the wizard destined to safeguard the magic he once sought to consume, and the ranger courageous enough to save her homeland.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale fanfic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #indiana dekarios

61 notes · View notes

the-dork-urge · 6 days ago

Text

Mr. Though Guy

#fluff

The office bathroom was bathed in a dim, yellowish light, casting long shadows across the cracked tiles and grimy sink. The mirror above was streaked with grime, reflecting Butcher’s battered face. His knuckles were bruised and smeared with dried blood. He winced as he examined his injuries—a split lip, a swollen cheek and jaw, and a bleeding cut above his eyebrow. Fumbling with the first-aid kit, he muttered under his breath.

The bathroom door creaked open, and she walked in, carrying a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. Still in her pajamas, her boots peeked out from beneath her rumpled sweatpants, which looked like she’d thrown them on in a hurry.

Her sleepy eyes widened slightly at the sight of him, but she quickly masked her concern with a sharp edge in her voice. She set the bowl and cloth down on the counter with deliberate care. “You’re bleeding all over the tiles,” she said, her tone laced with mock exasperation.

Butcher managed a wry smile, though it was marred by pain. “Don’t pretend this bathroom’s anything fancy, love. I’ve seen more class in a dive bar.”

She rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at her lips. He was right—the bathroom had seen its share of rough nights. The tiles bore stains from old calc, blood, and the occasional mishap involving too much tequila after a successful day fighting supes. It wasn’t pristine, but it was familiar and functional.

“Sit down before you bleed on anything else. MM would kill us,” she said, gently pushing him toward the closed toilet seat and taking the first-aid kit from his hands. She placed it on the edge of the bathtub. Butcher complied, sitting down with a grimace. She knelt in front of him, carefully soaking the cloth in the warm water.

“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked.

She glanced up at his face, her smirk softening as she took in the sight of him. His hair fell in messy, disheveled strands over his forehead, matted with a mix of sweat and blood. His eyes, slightly shimmering from the recent punches, had an unexpectedly vulnerable quality. The faint, sharp scent of alcohol still clung to him, adding an extra layer of grime to his battered appearance. There was something strikingly raw about him in that moment, a rare glimpse behind his usual bravado.

“Well,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing edge, “considering you look like you’ve been in a bar brawl with a wall, I’d say the wall won.”

Butcher managed a chuckle, though it made him wince. “Yeah, well, the wall didn’t come out of this unscathed either.”

She finished cleaning the cut on his eyebrow and wiped the rest of his face. Then she reached for the antiseptic, pouring a small amount onto a cotton pad. “So, who were you fighting anyway?” she asked, hovering the pad next to his face.

“Just some drunken cunt on Fifth Street,” he said, glancing toward her hand with a mix of anticipation and wariness.

“A tall cunt,” she added, “some German asshole built like a fucking fridge.”

“Why’d you fight him?” she asked.

“He was running his mouth. Doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I shut him up and landed a few good punches.”

“I’m sure you did.” She laughed and, without warning, pressed the pad tightly against his cut. She watched him wince, her eyes softening with a blend of sympathy and amusement. Butcher clenched his fists.

“Christ, that burns,” he muttered. He forced himself to focus on her face instead of the pain, trying to find comfort in the expression she wore. Her touch was steady and surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the sharp bite of the antiseptic.

“Sorry,” she said, her tone softening, “I know it stings, but you’re a big boy. Just a few more seconds, and it’ll be over.” She smiled.

“You know,” he said, forcing a grin despite the sting, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying this bit, love. You just love to see me wince, don’t you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Butcher,” she shot back, pressing the antiseptic pad more firmly against his cut for a few more seconds. Butcher shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard toilet seat.

“There,” she said, finally easing off the pad. She applied a small bandage over the cut, smoothing it out with her fingers. Her touch was warm and soft against his bruised skin. She quickly combed back his hair with those same fingers, brushing it away from his face.

“Next time, try and pick your battles better,” she said, standing up and wiping her hands on paper towels. Butcher’s eyes tracked her hands and those soft fingers, realizing he already missed their warmth on his face.

“I’ll add that to my list of life lessons. Along with ‘don’t drink too much’ and ‘don’t piss off Germans.’ Though, considering my track record, I wouldn’t bet on it.” He said, groaning as he got up from the toilet seat, his muscles aching and stiff.

He glanced at his watch. Its glass cracked, but he could still make out the time—2:40 AM. “It’s way past your bedtime, princess. How about you pack up and go home, huh?” he said, examining his face in the mirror. It looked better now, cleaner at least. There were still faint streaks of blood and bruising, but there were no ice packs around.

“And leave you to clean up here? No way. I’m not about to explain to Milk why his bathroom is in such a state, why your face looks like that, or why I agreed to help you in the middle of the night.”

“You’re a good little one,” he said, smiling as he took the damp cloth from the bowl, wringing it out, and wiping away the bloodstains from the sink.

She picked up the first-aid kit and reached above Butcher to place it back on the shelf. She still smelled like sleep—a mix of creams and toothpaste and the faint scent of day-old pajamas and slept in sheets. Her hair, usually styled neatly, now hung loosely and messily around her face, brushing against his skin as she leaned over him.

“Oi, you’re going to get all dirty leaning on me like that,” he said, stepping away slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the potential for smudging his own grime or the way her scent stirred something he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

“Don’t care, Butcher. I’ve had worse shit in worse places. A little of your grime doesn’t faze me.”

She brushed past him, throwing the contents of the bowl through the toilet and than flushing afterwards.

"So, that's all the evidence gone, at least all I can see in this dim light," she said. "I'll make sure to get in nice and early tomorrow to clean up the rest of the bathroom."

He knew better than to argue with her and laid the cloth down in the sink before heading out of the bathroom. She followed behind him, closing the door softly.

It was dark in the hallway, darker than usual without the swinging bulbs and the cheap UV lighting from the rooms next door.

As he walked through the hallway, the reality of what he had asked of her sank in. He had called her to his aid in the middle of the night, dragging her into his idiotic mess, again. Guilt gnawed at him, and he felt a surge of anger at himself for putting her in this position, again. She followed him through the hallway like a calm shadow. She would follow him all the way home, just to make sure he was safe. That’s the kind of person she was. The one he called, the only one he thought of calling. And he, he just kept hurting himself over and over, while she stood by and watched.

“You really should go home,” he said again “You know, they say beauty sleep is important.”She shot him a playful look, her eyes twinkling despite the situation. “How kind and attentive of you. But no. How about we have a cup together first, eh?” She nodded toward the door at the end of the hallway, leading into the kitchen. Butcher raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips despite the discomfort. “You’re relentless.”

“That’s one way to put it,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “A cup of something warm might be just what you need, to flush away some of that booze, and some of that smell on your breath.”

Butcher looked at the door and then back at her, knowing there was no convincing her otherwise. “Alright, alright. One cup of something it is,” he said, giving in with a resigned smile.They walked together towards the kitchen.

She leaned against the counter, her tired eyes following the rhythmic steam rising from the kettle. It was a small ritual they’d shared many times before, but tonight it felt particularly soothing, like a gentle balm against the chaotic night. Billy sat in one of the kitchen chairs, his posture relaxed despite the day's events. He watched her as the kettle’s gentle hiss and occasional clinking of metal against porcelain created a strangely relaxing backdrop.

She turned her attention to the kettle as it began to emit a high-pitched whine, signaling that the water was boiling. With a practiced hand, she lifted the kettle off the stove and poured the steaming water into a waiting teapot.

As she set the kettle back on the stove and adjusted the teapot’s lid, Butcher’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “Why do you always help me out, love?”

She glanced over at him, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light. Her gaze softened, revealing a hint of the affection she often kept guarded. “Because you ask,” she replied, her tone light but earnest.

Butcher furrowed his brow, leaning back in his chair. “Well, this once I called you, yeah, but all the other times?”

“Even then,” she said, pouring the tea into mugs with a practiced hand. “Perhaps not with words. But I can see when you need something.” She met his eyes with a small, understanding smile, a rare openness in her gaze.

“I don’t deserve it,” he mutters into his cup, hoping the words will disappear into the drkness of steaming liquid.

But she does hear him and lets the silence stretch as she considers his words. After a moment, she takes a seat opposite him, her expression a mixture of resolve and softness. “Perhaps you don’t,” she replies. “You are a real arsehole. Sometimes. We all think it.”

Butcher sighs, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, I know. But those fuckers need a bit of shaking sometimes. A firm, loving hand.”

She ignores his attempt at justification and takes a sip of her tea, letting the warmth and flavor soothe her. “But it’s not about what you deserve,” she says, setting her cup down with a gentle clink. “It’s about what you need and what you need is someone to give you a hand, to help clean up your mess sometimes.”

Her words hang in the air between them, a blend of tough love and genuine care. Butcher looks up from his cup, meeting her eyes. Butcher shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with the endless grace she extended to him. It felt both unfamiliar and unsettling: like holding a slippery fish. His instincts told him to deflect, to push it away.

Butcher took a deep breath, forcing a wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, aren’t you the saint in pajamas,” he said, attempting to mask his discomfort with a half-hearted chuckle. Her gaze remained steady, unshaken by his attempt to deflect. “You can joke all you want, Butcher. It doesn’t change the fact that you need help. And whether you think you deserve it or not, you’re still getting it.”

“Look at you,” he said, trying to infuse some lightness into his voice, though it came out strained. “You’re practically making me out to be some charity case. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking if I need a warm bed and some milk.”

She didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she sipped her tea, her silence a testament to her understanding. She didn’t need him to change or to become something he wasn’t. She simply offered what she could, without expectation or judgment.

Butcher sighed, his eyes fixed on the cup in his hands. The laughter he had tried to summon felt hollow. “I don’t know what to do with all this, love” he admitted quietly. “It’s easier to just keep my distance.”

“That’s exactly what you do, isn’t it?” she said softly. “Push people away when they get too close.”

He met her gaze briefly before looking away. “It’s safer that way.”

“Maybe it is,” she conceded, “but it’s fucking killing you isn’t it.”

Butcher nodded, more to himself than to her, cradling the cup as if seeking solace in its warmth. The tea’s heat was a stark contrast to the cold distance he maintained. He took a sip, letting the comforting warmth distract him from his inner turmoil.At that moment, she reached out, her hand gently resting over his own. The touch was soft and unexpectedly intimate, and he found himself frozen, unable to pull away. Noticing his hesitation, she quickly withdrew her hand, murmuring an apology. Butcher was acutely aware of the profound emptiness that followed. Reaching across the table with a trembling hand, he grasped hers, causing the table to shake slightly. He held it firmly, the connection tentative but genuine, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort he had been denying himself.

"Butcher," she said, surprise tinged in her voice, but she clung to his hand nonetheless. Her fingers wrapped around his with a warmth that seemed to melt some of the cold barriers he had built around himself.

“Thank you, love,” he said, his voice stripped of humor and coldness. He searched for her eyes across the table, the same eyes that had offered countless soft glances. For the first time, he understood what those glances had meant. Perhaps that’s why he called her tonight. Because he’d always known. Holding her hand, he slipped from his chair and knelt in front of her, resting his head on her knees. She gently withdrew her hand and placed both of hers on his head, softly lifting it up. “Kiss me, Billy,” she said, her voice tender and resolute.

He craned his neck as she cradled his face. Their lips met hesitantly at first. He sighed against her lips, a mix of nervous trembles and a release of long-repressed feelings. The kiss was tender, filled with an earnestness that took them both by surprise. Butcher’s initial hesitation melted away, revealing a deep, aching longing he had barely acknowledged.

She pulled him closer, her hands gently cradling his face as if afraid he might disappear. Her fingers sifted through his disheveled hair. He responded, his hands finding her waist, holding her as if she were the anchor he needed.

When their lips finally parted, they both breathed heavily, the air charged with unspoken confessions. Butcher looked up into her eyes, now soft and glistening with emotion.

“Billy,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, “don’t push me away again. Let me be here for you.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I don’t want to,” he managed to say, his voice rough “I’m sorry for being an arsehole.”

She smiled, a gentle and reassuring smile. Her fingers still lightly touched his face, and he felt a sense of peace he hadn’t known in a long time, not since Becca.Slowly, she guided him back to his feet, her hands lingering on his shoulders. They stood together in the quiet kitchen, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light on their faces.

Ass they stood there awkwardly for a moment, a nervous chuckle escaped her lips.

‘’So what now.’’

‘’You tell me.’’ He said.

‘’We can keep kissing like akward teenagers or we can,’’ she let her eyes side towards the kitchen counter for a second, than back to Billy.

‘’I like where your heads at,’’ he said, grinning against her lips. He kissed her again, now hard, as his hands made their way to her back, travelling lower and lower as she led him toward the countertops.

#billy butcher x reader #the boys #fluff #billy #butcher

26 notes · View notes

suuuupernovaaa · 2 years ago

Text

kxitx

kxitx [k’it’] n. death

Anonymous Request: Could you write a Neteyam fic where the reader and he are best friends, and she secretly loves him. As in the movie scene, he would be hit, but she jumps in front to save him and ends up getting hit instead. And then she thinks she's going to die, and confesses her feelings to him, so as a last wish, she asks him for a kiss. After all, it was just a scare, she survives and then wakes up and doesn't know what to do, because she's embarrassed that she did that whole scene in front of him and everyone else.

1,622 words

TW: blood

Everything up to this point has happened at the speed of light. Removing the tracker from the tulkun, running from the Sky People, rescuing Neteyam's siblings; it has all gone by with a snap of my fingers, due to the rush of adrenaline.

What happens next slows time, bringing it almost completely to a stop. The gun fires, one amongst many, but I know the bullet is heading for Neteyam. Right for his heard.

I can feel it, in the water. It must be Ewya, warning me. With only a second to spare, I shove Neteyam just a few inches to the right.

Just a few inches, and I take the bullet myself. It's in my shoulder, near my chest, and no one notices I've been hit.

Neteyam grabs my arm, pulling me into the sea, and the saltwater rushes into my wound. I scream into the ocean, but swim behind him, desperate and in blinding hot pain.

When we surface, Lo'ak is laughing triumphantly, but Neteyam can see the blood in the water.

"She's been shot!" Neteyam screams, and Lo'ak's smile fades. They pull me to a rock, hoisting me on as my right side begins to go numb, which is almost a relief. Every inch of this short journey has been agonizing.

I lay on the jagged rocks, watching the Sully children surround me.

"Is that why you shoved me? Y/N, you moron!" He presses his hand to the wound, and when he pulls them back for one second, I see they are covered in blood.

In my blood.

My vision is growing cloudy and I'm sure I'm dying. I think of my mother, and what she will do when she finds out. I think of my father, and how he will suffer in silence for the rest of my life.

I think of Neteyam, my dearest friend and closest companion, and how I have always loved him, but never told him.

"Kiss me," I say, placing my hands on top of his, feeling the wetness of the blood that is pouring out of me.

Neytiri and Jake have joined, and they hover above me too. Everyone is speaking. Someone is holding my hand. Neteyam's eyes are wild and wide.

He does not hesitate. As I fade away, I feel Neteyam's soft, warm lips on mine, and I hear Neytiri scream.

When my eyes open, it is not Ewya I see before me. I am not wrapped in her warm embrace, in a comfortable afterlife.

I am back home, resting on a soft bed in a mauri pod, and Ronal hovers over me.

"You're awake," she says softly. My eyes take a moment to adjust. The glow from outside is orange, the color of dusk, and the pain is at bay for just a few moments.

And then it hits me. My entire shoulder is white hot, pulsating, and I wince, closing my eyes again.

"The wound is cleaned and dressed, but you will need something for the pain now that you are awake." She reaches out for my hands, and I reluctantly reach back. "Come now. You must move, just a little. You have been asleep a long time."

"How long?" I ask through gritted teeth as she slowly helps me sit upright.

"Four days."

Footsteps approach rapidly, and I turn, looking over my shoulder to see some of the Sullys - Jake, Neytiri, and Neteyam.

"She's awake!" Neytiri gasps, and rushes forward first.

"Gently," Ronal advises, as Neytiri leans before me, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet girl." Tenderly, she pulls me into her arms, and something inside of me snaps to be held like this, by a mother.

I miss my own. I wish she was here. I was so sure I would never see her again, and it's overwhelming to simply be breathing. I close my eyes and rest my head on her shoulder, as tears fall down my cheeks. The sobbing shakes my body, which hurts my shoulder, and makes me cry harder.

"I know," Neytiri whispers. "You miss your mother."

Of course she knows. Neytiri is smarter than anyone else I have ever known, and has always treated me as an extension of her family. She knows me nearly as well as my own mother.

"Come, girl," she says, leaning back. "Let us go home, and you can rest."

Jake and Neteyam approach next, each grabbing an arm and helping me slowly to my feet. I let out a sharp exhale.

"Can you walk?" Jake asks, and before I can answer, I am swept off my feet by Neteyam. "Never mind," Jake replies, raising his eyebrows. He and Neytiri share a smile that I don't miss - and then I remember.

The kiss.

Oh shit, the kiss.

My dying wish was that Neteyam kiss me - surely he isn't going to let that go.

I am too tired, and in too much pain, to really worry about it now. But as Neteyam walks, cradling me in his arms, I want to bring it up.

"I'm so relieved," he tells me as we walk towards the beach, and our home. "You can't ever do that again. We all thought you were going to die. We thought we watched you die."

"Well, I didn't," I reply, a little bit annoyed but mostly touched by his speech.

The trust is, I would take a bullet for Neteyam again. I would do it every chance I could. He is that dear to me, and he has been since we were eight years old. I would move the sky and the earth to keep him safe, and there is no guarantee that this bullet would not have killed him. I know I did the right thing.

"You should have seen us all, Y/N," he says, his face grave. "I'm so glad you're alive."

We are silent the rest of the walk, and Neteyam takes me to the pod that he, Lo'ak and myself have been sharing. Lo'ak, Tuk and Kiri wait there. Neytiri lays down the supplies that Ronal sent, with instructions for Kiri on how to care for my wound, though I know she already knows how.

Tuk rushes into my arms, and her mother chides her to be careful, but I bend down anyway and pull her to me. I feel terrible that Tuk had to witness what she thought was someone dying, at such a young age.

Lo'ak and Kiri greet me similarly, before their parents usher them out, telling them I need rest. Neteyam lingers behind, and I reach for his hand.

"Stay. I don't want to be alone."

He nods. "Of course."

Tenderly, he helps me settle down, and without a word, lays next to me. I'm lying propped up on my back, and Neteyam lays on his side, his arm under his head, staring at me. Having him near me is relaxing, and after what I've been through, it makes me feel safe.

"Stop staring," I say with a smile.

"Never. I thought you died."

I turn to meet his eyes, to tease him some more, but I see his serious expression, the corners of his mouth turned down, his furrowed brow, and I decide not to.

"I didn't. And I don't regret what I did, Neteyam. I would do it every day, to keep you safe."

His frown deepens. "You don't need to keep me safe. I'm supposed to keep you safe."

I reach over, and take his hand in mine once again. "We keep each other safe. I'm safe. And so are you. So we're doing a good job."

A comfortable silence settles over us, and I close my eyes. I have never felt so tired. Neteyam holds my hand in his, tracing soft circles into my skin, and I sigh. I want to lay here forever, just like this.

"I know you're, uh, recovering from being shot and all but... are we going to talk about it?" he asks.

The corners of my mouth reluctantly turn up in a smile, but I don't open my eyes. "About what?"

"Y/N, you believed you were dying, and you asked me to kiss you. I think that makes your dying wish... a kiss. From me."

"Well, you were closest."

I can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, "Lo'ak was holding your hand. You could have asked him. Kiri would have also kissed you."

Finally, I open my eyes, and turn to stare at him. "Fine. I didn't want to kiss anyone else. I wanted to kiss you, and I have always wanted to kiss you. I didn't want to die without you knowing that. But I lived, so you don't have any obligation. We can just pretend it never happened."

"Or, I could kiss you again," he replies immediately, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at me. "I could kiss you every day, for the rest of our lives. Which I promise you, will be long - very long lives."

Suddenly, I can't feel the burning pain in my shoulder anymore. My head doesn't feel so heavy. I am revived.

"Yes, that would be good too," is all I can come up with in response.

Neteyam leans down, slowly, and presses his lips to mine.

Our first kiss was marred by pain, panic and confusion; this is soft and slow, and I can feel the promise of tomorrow and every day after in it.

When he pulls away, we're both smiling.

"I'm glad I got shot," I tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"Go to sleep, Yawne."

So I do, within moments, feeling more safe and secure than I ever have, bullet wound be damned.

#neteyam #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #avatar twow #avatar 2

902 notes · View notes

carf-writes · 9 months ago

Text

“Robin, don’t,” he growled, digging his heels in on the linoleum floor.

The rubber soles of his boots squeaked and his chair stopped moving. He dug them in harder, comically stomping his feet to drag himself forward. Damian was fighting him but luckily he had well over a hundred pounds on the kid.

“I have more room,” Damian grunted.

“I don’t care.” The neck brace was digging into his exposed chin even beneath the duct tape preventing him from turning his head. He wiggled his fingers, trying to get circulation back into them with the ropes tied so tightly.

The drill whirred, inching ever closer, aimed at the center of his forehead.

“When I let you move the chairs, I hoped you would try to sacrifice the other to save yourselves,” a woman’s voice said over the speakers. She sounded like she was pouting. “Not fight over who gets to kill themselves first. It’s a few seconds difference anyway. You’re both dying.”

“Fuck you,” Damian snapped, sinking into a stream of elaborate curses in Arabic, most of which where anatomically impossible.

Dick grimaced as he dislocated his thumb. If he could just get Damian’s hands free…

The drill was getting closer, held by a robotic arm stolen from the Wayne Enterprises factory. The drill came from there too, designed for boring holes through titanium alloy. He suspected the sliding rail their chairs were mounted on back to back was also a Wayne souvenir.

With Damian distracted, though still struggling against his own binds, Dick was able to drag himself forward again. Until the drill bit hovered millimeters above the cowl. He hoped the reinforced kevlar would spare him a few seconds.

And he suspected that he would still be able to detangle the knots until the drill had fully penetrated his brain. Not a pleasant thought but a necessary one if he was going to get Damian out alive.

“Damn you to hell,” Damian snarled and something about his tone told Dick he wasn’t talking to their captor anymore. “I’m supposed to get Batman home.”

“It’s alright, Robin, there will always be a Batman.”

Dick was close now even as the drill touched the surface of the cowl, sending a painful vibration through his skull. Just a prelude to the main event.

“That’s the problem,” the woman calling herself The Hole in Things said . “No one needed Batman in the first place. Let alone hundreds of him. Doesn’t that make you feel awful, being expendable like this? That oh-so benevolent Bruce Wayne can’t be bothered to rescue you?”

“Actually,” Dick said with a smile as he felt the rope around Damian’s wrists snap. “Expendable is just fine with me.”

Damian rolled out of the chair, ducking under the drill aimed at his head.

The Hole in Things yelped. There was a clatter and the speaker went dead. She was running. Damian would have to give chase.

A birdarang snapped the drill bit above Dick’s head in half. Another fouled up the works. The drill sputtered and sparked, a trail of black smoke rising as it ground to a halt.

A moment later, Damian was at his side, shoving the apparatus aside, cutting Dick loose and dragging him from the chair.

They collapsed onto the floor. All of Dick’s weight fell on top of Damian. He grunted as the air was knocked out of him.

His whole body still ached from the beating a baker’s dozen of fanatical goons had given him that morning and the paralytic poison he’d been stabbed with to get him into position for that death trap. He groaned, trying to push himself off the boy.

Damian grabbed his head instead. “You’re bleeding.”

Dick pushed his hands aside, flopping onto his back. The ceiling was spinning. He snapped his thumbs back into place with a grunt.

“Just a scratch,” he muttered.

Damian’s face swam into his vision. His mouth was twisted into a tense frown.

“You had brain surgery a month ago. I was told the surgeon was the best in the world but now I have serious doubts.”

“Is this your way of calling me an idiot?”

“This is my way of saying I didn’t think you used to be so imbecilic.”

“You let her get away.”

“I saved your life, you ungrateful rube.”

Dick laughed and leveraged himself to his feet. He had to hold onto the wall to keep steady. He noticed that Damian was still not chasing their would-be murderer. Instead he was looking at Dick with something like concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked. Maybe Damian was more injured than he looked.

Damian’s face went red all the way up to his forehead when he was angry, just like his father.

“You said you were expendable,” he snapped.

“Yeah, that’s the idea of Batman International. No more one Batman to handle everything. I’ve got Gotham for now but I’m sure a certain Black Bat wouldn’t mind filling in.” Dick shrugged. “Actually, I think she’d probably do a much better job.” She wouldn’t have stumbled into that ambush, for starters.

Damian grabbed his arm. “We’re returning to HQ. You have sustained a serious brain injury.”

Dick touched the point on his forehead where the drill had bitten in. There was a small circular hole now in the cowl and when he looked down at his glove it was spotted with blood.

“I wouldn’t call it serious. My skull’s still more or less intact,” he joked.

Damian just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance. “Tt.” He tugged on Dick’s arm. “Come.”

They really should be going after the woman who tried to murder them and clearly had it out for Bruce but if Damian wanted to go home, Dick wasn’t going to oppose. That must have been a harrowing experience for the kid and he was so reluctant to show vulnerability, Dick had no choice but to encourage it.

#long post #dick grayson #damian wayne #batman #robin #fanfiction #batman fanfiction #writing snippet #Batdick #Batman International #Batman and Robin #Dick likes being expendable

128 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 8 months ago

Text

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 52: A SOLUTION

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Miscarriage

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon wafting through the house.

Cillian had gone for his morning run, leaving your mother alone in the kitchen, humming softly to herself while she prepared breakfast.

Her voice carried through the open door, reminding you of simpler times.

You shuffled downstairs, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

"Morning, sleepyhead," your mother greeted you cheerfully, her eyes lighting up when she saw you.

"Smells amazing," you said, leaning against the counter and watching her work. "I don't usually eat much for breakfast," you admitted though, "but I think I might make an exception today," you laughed, your mouth watering at the sight of golden, crispy bacon.

"I made enough for three," your mother remarked, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, ham, and sausages onto the table.

"Cillian should be back soon from his run," your mother noted, her brow furrowing slightly. "It is good to see that he keeps fit at his age you know," she added, pausing to sip her tea. "I met a lot of other older men that don't take care of themselves and that's not good," she mused, her eyes straying towards the window.

"He isn't that old mum," you chuckled, sitting down across from her and taking a bite of your sausage.

"Oh no darling, I didn't mean it that way. I am just saying that it is good to keep fit at his age - or at any age really," your mother corrected herself quickly, noticing the sudden change in your expression. "If he keeps fit, it will be easier for him to chase after your little chicos and chicas when the time comes, you know," she joked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Speaking of which," your mother added, lowering her voice, "Are there any in the making?" she wanted to know, desperate to have some grandchildren in her life now that her family was reunited.

"Well," you hesitated, your fork hovering precariously above your plate. "No," you sighed before turning quiet for a moment, thinking about your recent miscarriage.

You felt the weight of your loss return as a lump formed in your throat. You thought about telling your mother about it, but the words wouldn't come out.

"Maybe one day," you murmured noncommittally, averting your gaze from your mother's probing gaze as, finally, Cillian barged through the door, sweating slightly from exhaustion.

"Maybe one day?" Cillian repeated, only having caught the tail-end of the conversation.

"I just asked my daughter if and when you were planning to have children," your mother answered with a playful wink, openly teasing you both in a way that a mother does to her adult children, not knowing about your pain and heartache.

Cillian, however, could not hide his surprise as, suddenly, the mood changed and even your mother picked up on the cues.

Although she did not know about the miscarriages, she realized that something was amiss, clouding her own previous excitement.

"Did I say something wrong my dear?" your mother asked you gently as she reached for your hand across the table. "You look upset all of a sudden," she noted, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "No, it's just...it's a long story," you said, pulling your hand away from hers and wiping your eyes.

Cillian walked over to you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We recently lost our baby," he began without finishing his sentence. "I mean, Y/N had a miscarriage. She wasn't that far along but we were both pretty excited," he told your mother softly, regret and sadness etched on his face.

Your mother's expression changed upon hearing Cillian's words, registering immediate concern and sympathy. "Oh my sweet child! I am so sorry," she exclaimed, getting up from her seat and moving to hug you tightly. "But, you are still young and you can try again," she offered, trying to remain hopeful despite your sadness but, as she spoke, tears welled up in both your eyes, falling like gentle rain onto your hands.

"No we can't," you replied, managing a weak half-smile, even as the tears continued to stream down your face, and a heaviness settled in your heart.

"Why ever not?" your mum questioned, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, her curious gaze switching to Cillian's who remained silent while comforting you.

"It had already happened before, mum. We lost another baby a while back. I had to have an operation then and was told that I probably cannot have a child of my own," you confided in your mother, your voice trembling as you spoke, both of you acutely aware that you had yet to fully process your pain and heartache.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," your mother whispered, drawing you close to her once more as you began to sob uncontrollably, overcome by a surge of emotions you did not even realize you had been suppressing.

"It's okay, it's okay, my love," she murmured, stroking your hair gently as she rocked you back and forth.

Cillian stepped forward, one hand still on your shoulder as he offered the box of tissues from the table to your mother. "Thank you," she mouthed silently, taking a couple of tissues and dabbing at your eyes delicately.

As the initial wave of sorrow began to subside, you pulled back slightly, looking first at your mother and then at Cillian, who was still standing by your side.

"We might find a way," Cillian muttered, gazing down at you. "A surrogate, adoption, I don't know, but we are going to be parents together if this is what you want," he vowed, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly.

"Yes, darling. There are many ways to become a parent," your mother promised, her expression full of determination. "But let's not talk about it now," she urged, sensing that this conversation had become too much for you both.

"Let's have a nice breakfast and then we can go out for a walk," she suggested instead, taking a steadying breath.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, lighter, as a sense of calm embraced you all.

You welcomed your mother's gesture with a small nod, tucking into your breakfast as Cillian took a seat quietly beside you.

The rest of the meal passed without further conversation, but the silence was companionship, and not awkwardness.

Your mother's touch had a calming effect on you, and, as you finished your food, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's unwavering support and love. You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as your shoulders slumped, easing the tension that had built up over the night and into the morning.

After breakfast, the three of you took a leisurely stroll down the beach, enjoying the sunshine that bathed the shore with light and warmth. You stayed close to Cillian, his presence soothing as his fingers laced through yours.

Your thumb traced circles on the back of his hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comfort.

Your mother walked beside you, the three of you in a line with the vast expanse of the ocean. She observed how much you seemingly loved one another and how committed you both were, which granted her a certain degree of pleasure.

Knowing that you were safe, loved and happy made her happy.

Your mother had waited for years to watch her daughter grow up, to meet the right person, and to flourish under their love.

Throughout the walk, she sometimes fell behind, pretending to tie her shoelaces or to search for an interesting pebble, all while observing you both and the deep intimacy you shared.

You didn't have to be overly affectionate for her to understand.

It was the way you two walked together, side by side, with your fingers still laced together, how your bodies naturally gravitated towards each other's presence.

At one point, your hand moved away to adjust your cardigan and your mother watched as, even without words, Cillian wordlessly reached for your hand again when you were done, lifting it up to kiss it gently.

You smiled in response, your eyes locked onto his before switching to the horizon beyond.

The breeze of the morning carried with it a serene coolness, catapulting sprays of water into the air where the waves crashed on the rocks nearby. A flock of birds burst into flight, the tide retreating as the sun shone all the more radiantly in a cornflower blue sky reflecting its warm glow onto the endless, sandy beach ahead of you.

You looked back, seeing your mother contentedly watching the two of you, silently drawing assurance from the evident love between you and Cillian. She smiled gently, and you returned her smile with a grateful one.

Тhe rest of the day passed in a haze of bliss familiarity, and comfort before, for dinner, your mother decided to prepare a traditional South American meal for you all.

The scent of paprika, cumin, and garlic wafted from the kitchen, opening a portal in time for you, transporting you back to a childhood, the time before you were taken from her.

"You know, I was thinking that, maybe I have a solution," your mother announced, breaking the silence of your collective reverie, refocusing your attention, as you handed her an avocado and a bottle of red wine.

"What do you mean mum?" you asked curiously, wondering where she was going with this.

"I meant that, if you want to be parents together then I may have a solution for that," she replied with a meaningful smile, as she began to slice the avocado skilfully.

"Mum, I thought we are not going to talk about this now," you reminded her softly, trying to steer the conversation away from this painful topic. But Cillian, keen on hearing what she had to say, encouraged her to continue.

"Please, Y/N, let her finish," he said gently, holding your hand as your mother turned towards Cillian and nodded appreciatively.

"Well, as I was saying, I've been thinking and, I know that this might sound a little controversial, but you could adopt an infant from where you are from, for money. It isn't cheap, but it would help support someone in need and you would get a beautiful child," she explained, her voice echoing the determination that she had shown earlier.

Cillian and you exchanged a glance, shocked at her proposition yet also intrigued. Adopting a child was something that had always been a possibility, but adopting a child from South America where adoption was not regulated seemed risky and overwhelming to say the least.

"Mum, that's a really kind offer," you said thoughtfully, weighing your options. "But are you sure it's legal? And how would we get the baby out of the country? I don't think it's as simple as just buying a baby and then taking it on a plane back home," you explained, expressing your concerns openly, trying to stay grounded and clear-headed in the moment.

"There are agencies who deal with everything and since abortion is still illegal back home there are, unfortunately, so many children who need loving families," your mother persisted, channeling her inner authority as she held your gaze. "And if you can provide a loving and safe home for a child, then it would be a worthy cause, don't you think?"

You looked to Cillian, expecting him to share your reluctance, but instead found him nodding thoughtfully.

"It's not a bad idea, actually," he said, surprising you. "I know a few people in the industry who have adopted children from overseas before, and they had good experiences with it," Cillian told you, wanting you to consider your mother's proposal.

"I don't know, Cillian. It sounds like a slippery slope. I mean, how can you be sure that the money is going to the right place and not just lining some corrupt official's pockets?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

"And what about the mother? I mean, I was given away as a young child, against my mother's will," you pointed out, recalling the tragic turn of events that had separated you from your mother so long ago. "What is if the mother of our child would be forced to give up her baby because of money?" you pondered, a pained expression crossing your face. "I couldn't live with myself if I did that to someone."

"Well, I also have a solution for that," your mother interrupted softly, as she stopped slicing the avocado, setting it aside as she turned to you both, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"What if you adopt a baby who was given up willingly by someone I know? Someone who wants to put her child up for adoption?" your mother continued, maintaining eye contact as Cillian and you stared at her, wide-eyed. "I know a woman who is expecting her fifth child and she had been saving money for an illegal abortion. Perhaps she would change her mind if she knows that there's a loving couple who would adopt her baby," your mother explained delicately, her voice calm, and measured, yet tinged with a hint of hope.

The idea caught you off guard, and you exchanged a glance with Cillian, who seemed to be just as surprised.

"I don't know, mum. We need to think about this," you finally managed to say, your voice trailing off as you glanced towards Cillian for support.

Cillian looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. It was a lot to digest this unexpected proposition and Cillian knew not to push you.

Following your lead, he held your hand reassuringly. He felt the slight tremble in your fingertips as you both contemplated this new path while your mother finished cooking. It was something you knew you should consider but, at the same time, it was information too heavy to fully grasp while your guard was down.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic

54 notes · View notes