#it's the way he's been shutting himself away for like half this season but here he is sitting in her office waiting for her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

number1mingyustan · 4 months

Text

-Cuffing Season-

His Home

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, cursing, explicit smut, somnophilia (consensual), wet dream, grinding, scratching, squirting, oral (f.), fingering (f.), size kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, super fluffy ending :))

Summary: You’ve spent so much time missing one another, but in the end it’s all worth it

Word Count: 2.6k

_______________________________________________

The door shuts with the faintest click and Mingyu is met with darkness. He slips his shoes off, leaving them next to the kitchen door before he quietly makes his way toward the bedroom.

Even though it's dark, Mingyu feels refreshed to be home. You have no idea though, he's here 11 hours earlier than he's supposed to be. He managed to book a last-minute flight to come home earlier because he missed you so much. It's three in the morning and he doesn't want to wake you, but being back in his home is already making him feel complete again.

He leaves his suitcase and his briefcase in the kitchen. He'll worry about it later, he's got one thing on his mind and that's you. His luggage can wait, the love of his life is in the bedroom 30 feet away from him.

He makes his way inside, remaining as quiet as he can. He strips himself of his outside clothes, leaving him in nothing but a wifebeater and his boxers. He slips under the covers next to you and gently pulls you against him as he inhales. The bed dips and purely out of reaction, you lean into his touch. His chest falls as he sighs with satisfaction.

Home.

He's holding you in a spooning position, chest pressed against the back of your head with his arm around your waist. He feels complete, something his life has lacked for the past three weeks.

He presses a light kiss on your shoulder as he holds you. He hears you mumble his name lightly, your body recognizing him before your mind. You press your back closer against his chest and exhale softly.

A small smile makes its way onto his face. He's so happy to have you back in his arms like this. You're pressing your back closer against him, almost intentionally. "Baby?" He rasps. "You awake?"

He knows he heard you mumble his name and you're pressing your body closer against him. But then he hears you whine and it's your butt that's being pressed closer against his body.

Oh fuck.

You can't be doing this to him right now. That wasn't your usual sleepy movement, it was more than that. The way you're breathing and practically fucking grinding against him is driving him insane. It's making him hard in his boxers and lighting a burning desire deep inside of him.

Mingyu is having an internal battle as to whether or not he should wake you. You're not just tossing in your sleep, he's well aware of that.

But shit.

He's been in bed with you less than 10 minutes and you're already grinding on him in your sleep. You're just as obsessed with him as he is with you and he's having a hard time containing himself. Two and a half weeks without his touch has got you reacting to him without even realizing it.

His hand moves from your waist to your wrist. Once he feels the thin bracelet between his fingers, it's over.

Fuck it.

" 'M gonna take such good care of you," He mumbles, allowing his hand to slip into your panties.

He's not even really concerned about waking you anymore. He's being selfish, needs to touch you, maybe he'll even let himself have a taste.

You're only starting to get turned on, to which he lets out a small 'tsk' of disapproval. He needs to have you soaking and needier for him. He buries himself under the covers, making his way between your thighs. He pushes you onto your back, spreading your legs open and pushing your panties to the side.

He can hear your breathing change from above him. He immediately licks a long stripe along your folds. He can literally hear your breath get caught in your throat when he does so.

You push your hips up out of reaction, moaning quietly when his tongue presses against your folds again.

"So eager," he mumbles to himself.

He then latches his mouth around your clit, sucking on the hardened bud. Instinctively, your legs close around his head, but he forces them back open.

"Hah-fuck... Gyu," You pant.

Mingyu's cock is throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his boxers, but he's ignoring it. He's grinding against the sheets ever so slightly, but his focus is entirely on you.

His mouth is all over you, licking and sucking up all your pleasure. But fuck, you're still gushing.

He can't help himself. Once he can feel your arousal literally coating his chin, he slips two fingers inside of you.

He's surprised you haven't woken up yet. You're so reactive, especially when his fingers are moving inside of you just right, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

You probably think you're dreaming this up.

"More... Fuck, Gyu," you whine.

You're lifting your hips again, pushing into his touch. His fingers pick up in speed, applying a little more pressure inside of you. He swirls his tongue around your clit in small circles, making you cry out his name. Your orgasm hits you suddenly and you're releasing all over his face.

You wake up with his tongue on you. You haven't the slightest clue how long he's been down there either. It's evident that he's been enjoying himself though. Toying with you and listening to the sinful little noises that escaped your lips as he savored every drop of your arousal.

You blink a few times, allowing your eyes to focus on the scene between your thighs. You're trying to register what's going on with shaky legs and the aftermath still pumping through your body. Your orgasm is evident all over his face and you swear you've never seen him happier.

"Good morning gorgeous," he grins.

He pulls his fingers out, making you snap your legs closed instantly. You were barely able to register your orgasm, yet your body is still sensitive. Your mind is still hazy and you're still figuring out if this is a dream or reality. But you do know for certain how relieved your body is and that you feel incredible.

"Gyu?" You rasp out in confusion.

His body now hovers over yours. You can feel his hard cock pressing against the inside of your thigh. It is very real and in desperate need of relief.

"Sorry baby, just needed a taste. You forgive me though, right?" He licks his lips slowly.

"Fuck," you whisper. "I missed you like crazy... thought I was dreaming."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He kisses you back just as hungrily, allowing his eyes to fall shut and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You're still throbbing, mind and body screaming: more more more. You've spent the past three weeks missing him and you're sure as hell going to make the most of it now that he's back.

You wrap your legs around his torso, pressing against his clothed cock. It twitches against your inner thighs, aching to feel you. "Fuck me... please," you break the heated kiss.

He sits up, pulling his boxers off and allowing his hard cock to spring up and slap against his lower torso. It's big and heavy in his hand. Hr strokes his length slowly, pressing the tip against your folds.

You're both breathing heavily in anticipation as he drags his length against your pussy. He sighs in satisfaction as you soak his cock with your arousal.

"Missed this pussy so bad," he mumbles to himself as he pushes his tip into you.

You moan out at the feeling of him stretching you open. He's not even halfway in and you find yourself struggling. His large body is hovering over you, face pressed against your neck as he tries to ease his way into you.

"So tight," He groans.

He pushes his hips against yours a bit more to fill you up, but you're making it hard for him. He's got you soaked after he fingered you and went down on you yet there still seems to be a struggle. He's just so big.

"Fuck," You cry out. " 'S too big Gyu."

"Hasn't been that long baby," He tsks. "You can take it."

You squeeze your eyes shut, instinctively clenching harder around him. Mingyu winces and scoffs. " 'S really too big," you whine.

"Look at me," he says.

It's still dark in the room, but the moonlight peaking through the window perfectly illuminates his face. You blink your eyes open, meeting his soft brown orbs.

"You're just not trying hard enough," he rasps. "Open up for me."

Your mouth rounds into an '0' shape as he starts to finally fill you up.

"There we go," he pants. "Such a liar... all that complaining that it's too big-fuck.'

He fills you up properly now, but you're still so tight.

It takes him a moment to find his rhythm. It feels like its been an eternity since he was last inside of you and his mind is going crazy as he hold himself back from spilling his load into you immediately.

Once he collects himself, the two of you are panting and moaning out one another's names with breathy voices as the bed rocks beneath you. His hand grips the headboard above you, pushing against the wall with each thrust of his hips.

You're soaking his cock with each passing second, making it easier for him to fuck his cock into you each time he bottoms out. He fills you up with the entirety of his length, tip pressing deep inside of you against the sweet spot that drives you mad.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving rigid scratches along his skin. The pleasure is so intense it has you writhing beneath his, gripping onto something, anything to keep you grounded.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your breath gets caught in your throat. He snakes his hand between your thighs, pressing his thumb to your clit and drawing small circles.

"Mingyu–you're so deep-ah," You cry. "Faster, faster– 'm almost there."

Your boyfriend simply groans in response. You're so fuckign desperate, it's driving him crazy. He needed this so bad, missed hearing you whine and beg for him like this.

And who was he to ever deny you? Especially when you were begging for him with that fucked out expression all breathlessly. His hips find a new pace, fucking into you faster to fill your every desire.

Mingyu always fucks you so good. You're extra sensitive, reacting to even the slightest touches and movements. The pressure builds inside of you quickly and you already know you're a goner.

You whimper, trying to formulate your thoughts into words, but his cock makes it impossible. Your mind is scrambled and the only thing you can focus on is the way his cock abuses your g-spot.

"C-c–ah!" You can hardly formulate your warning before you're crying out in pleasure.

Your orgasm hits suddenly, driving you into a state of euphoric pleasure. And fuck, it feels so good. It has your toes curling and your teary eyes rolling back as you cry out his name.

You tighten around him so much that it forces Mingyu to pull out from the pressure. To both of your surprise, a rush of liquid leaves your body when he pulls out. Your mind is so hazy, you hardly process the fact that you're squirting.

You're shaking beneath him, sensitive and overstimulated, but he's missed you so much. He can't help but be a little selfish.

He doesn't waste much time before his tip is pressed against your folds. He rubs the head of his cock through your folds a few times, biting on his bottom lip as your body jerks upon contact.

"Mingyu," You whine pathetically.

His cock is throbbing against you. It's swollen and achy, Mingyu's never been this needy in his life. He ignores your cries, slipping his cock back inside of you and moaning as your warmth envelopes him once again.

"Gyu!" You cry. "I just c-came." Your voice is broken and raspy.

His grip on the headboard is tighter. His knuckles are turning white from how hard he's gripping it as he fucks you needily. He can't stop himself, hips pushing into you as he bullies his cock deep in your walls.

"I know– 'm sorry. J-just gimmie a minute–shit."

A minute ended up being 17 seconds, thankfully. Mingyu was hardly able to finish his sentence before his hips grew sloppy and he was pumping you full of his cum and moaning in your ear.

His body collapses on top of yours. You're both breathing heavily, gasping for air as your bodies recover from the mind-blowing sex you just had. He rolls off of you, laying by your side with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"I'm so happy you're home," You breathe out.

"Happy to be home," he mumbles against your skin.

The two of you lay there only for a few moments before he’s rolling out of bed. “Gotta clean you up.”

You whine, pulling him back down on the bed with you. “No. Don’t leave me again.”

“Not going anywhere,” He presses a kiss onto your lips. “Taking care of you.”

“Noooo,” You pout. “I’m tired, just let me sleep.”

“Bed’s all wet baby. You squirted everywhere, c’mon. I gotta clean you up and wash the sheets.”

You groan, finally giving in to what he says. He disappears into the bathroom to draw a bath for you. You climb in once the water is warm enough and he takes the bedsheets into to laundry room while you wait in the water.

When he returns, you’re sitting in the tub, doe eyes fixated on him as you wait for him to join you. He slips into the bathtub behind you, large body only barely fitting in the water.

You lean into his chest, pressing your back against him. You seat yourself comfortably, letting a yawn pass between your lips.

“Sleepy?” he asks.

You simply nod, allowing your eyes to fall shut as he washes your body in the warm water.

“Sorry for waking you up,” He says quietly.

“I don’t accept your apology,” You tell him sternly. “I don’t care that you woke me up. I’m just happy to have you home. Besides, you woke me up in the best way possible Gyu. I was wearing my bracelet wasn’t I?”

Your boyfriend shrugs, unable to wipe the apologetic look off his face. "Yeah, I lost control a little bit though. 'M not usually selfish like that."

You turn your body around so you're facing him. "You know I like it when you use me," You look up at him.

Fuck–those eyes. He groans, tilting his head back to avoid meeting your gaze. His Adam's apple is prominent when he does so. He feels his cock twitch. "Don't get me started again baby, I'll really lose control. You're way too sensitive to handle it right now."

"You're so easy to rile up," You smirk.

He splashes the water onto you, making you giggle. "Shut up. Can't even blame me."

The two of you finish washing up and drain the tub before drying yourselves off. You redress yourselves in a fresh pair of pajamas and make up your bed together with a fresh pair of sheets.

Mingyu falls into the bed first, pulling you in with him and tucking your body beneath the sheets. He holds you in his arms, pulling you in close, as to say he won’t be letting you go any time soon.

You both drift into a state of slumber, sleeping peacefully for the remainder of the night and into the morning with love filling your hearts and pumping through your veins.

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #mingyu smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu drabbles #mingyu svt #svt mingyu #kim mingyu smut #mingyu fanfic #mingyu #cuffing season #kpop

1K notes · View notes

har-rison-s · 4 months

Text

whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

talk to me about coryo here

previous chapter next chapter

coryo masterlist main masterlist

word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days.

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being.

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely.

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process.

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood.

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper.

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees.

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all.

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that.

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips.

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words.

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing.

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten.

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him.

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again.

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.”

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going.

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her.

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering.

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise.

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him.

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade.

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?”

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate.

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in.

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough.

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled.

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her.

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over.

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now.

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face.

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release.

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially.

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once.

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination.

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her?

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him.

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n.

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took.

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there?

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them.

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment.

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood.

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled.

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words.

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further.

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him.

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @works-of-fanfiction @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @xoxobabydolls @corallyink @rottenstyx @allcheesemelts @dangelnleif

let me know if you want to be tagged in the future !!!

#har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo smut #coryo x reader #snow x reader #thg fic #thg fanfiction #coryo fanfiction #coryo fic #coriolanus fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

ktsumu · 14 days

Text

18+ NSFT MDNI. SHOWER ACTION.

You already know that Atsumu's in the shower before you hear him in it, nudging the front door shut behind you, heels falling off of your groaning feet. The first matchup of the pre-season has ensured that.

Muscle memory makes you step over the routine dufflebag he drops in the very middle of the entryway, shaking the strap off of your ankle when it catches. His sweater's on the back of the couch.

You'd take it down the hallway with you, but you follow the clothes like a roadmap instead. Toeing along, kicking his track pants out of the way with a scoff, rolling your eyes and wondering how he completely missed the hamper.

An athlete, he calls himself.

The shower turns your bedroom hot, steaming up the windows from the open ensuite door, the mirror dripping with water. You can feel the humidity ruining the hair you worked so hard to keep tidy this morning.

"Atsumu?" You sigh, tugging it loose and glancing at him through the mirror.

It's more so what you can see of him— the frosted glass of the shower punishes you mostly, keeps you to watching his blurry body turn, his head twist to your voice. You can see him turn to face the water again.

"Hey baby. How's work?"

"I'm gonna guess better than the game today?" You pick up his sweaty jersey with your foot, taking in the distinct yet familiar smell of sharp pines and locker room. "Judging by the state of our home."

Atsumu breathes out sheepishly, but it sounds like a grin. "I'll clean it all up, don't worry."

"I know you will."

"Yeah, for sure." He hesitates, humming when he rubs at the crook of his neck. "Maybe tomorrow morning? Swear."

You don't care when he cleans it up, really. Your eyes haven't left the shower.

Quietly, you start to undo your blouse, shrugging it off of your shoulders and peeling it off of your sticky skin. You toss it near Atsumu's abandoned shorts.

"Been in there a while?" you huff, blindly turning on the fan. "Hot as hell in here."

"Everything hurts," he groans. "Fuckin' hate coming off the off-season— not used to it."

You purse your lips. "Gonna stay in for a little while longer?"

It's quiet, aside from the shower running. His shadow moves, leans closer to the glass before standing upright again. His hands tease you over the top, combing through his hair.

"If someone wants to keep me company, can't really say no."

(He must sense your eyes rolling, because he chuckles and slips the door open a crack.)

You shimmy your tight skirt down your legs, stepping out of everything embarrassingly fast. Your cami ends up hanging off the sink and your pantyhose are in a ball, but Atsumu's waiting hand has you getting inside the shower as fast as you can manage.

Where he isn't drenched in water, he's painted by a thin sheen of heat, the steam of the shower dripping down his temple. His hand welcomes you first, guiding you closer so his lips can greet you next.

Atsumu rests a hand on the side of your face, droplets of water swarming down your chest like snakes. He kisses you sloppily, tongue trying at yours the second you let him, teeth grazing your lip when you pull away like he's begging you to stay.

"Sore, huh?"

His eyes travel down— over your chest, sternum, hips. His hands follow in the same order like a drill— tits, chest, beautiful, beautiful hips. "Forget I said anything 'bout that,"

"You should rest, really,"

"Stop teasin' me, it's just cruel," he frowns, "need you to give me a cure tonight,"

"Yeah? It's called eight hours of sleep and Voltaren."

He rolls his eyes, lidded with said sleep— the hand holding yours that pulls you closer and his half-hard cock between you say something entirely different.

Atsumu's hand gropes your ass, fingertips dinging into fat until you get impossibly closer, until he's basically against your stomach and you're basically just looking at his lips.

"You should—"

"Should," he emphasizes, murmured against your mouth as he kisses you again, chaste but lingering, "but this is what I'm actually gonna do."

"What?"

"You," he hums, tucking a strand of your half-wet hair behind your ear, blocking the water and hoarding you to himself. "Gonna be my cleanse."

You snort, fingers smoothing over his abs and down to the base of his cock, nails gently running over the dark trail of hair. "That right?"

"Mmmyeah," he says through a groan, yawning before he slots a hand in between your legs, trailing it up your inner thigh as you finally get him in your hand. It's the only place he's wanted to be all night, besides your bed. "Feel so fuckin' good, fuck,"

You sigh against his chest, tilting your head up to taste him again. Like spearmint, like the gum he must've chewed on the drive home just knowing you'd end up here.

"Shit, alright," he sighs, hips lazily rolling into your palm as you look up at him with eyes that make him wanna pass out.

"Gotta choose now— you wanna be on your knees first or do ya want 'em over my shoulders?"

You breathe out a laugh, sliding your hands over his slippery arms, over every muscled ridge as you lower yourself to the tile floor, kissing his hip when you get there. "Romantic, really."

Atsumu's body tilts your way, chasing your lips down, leaning into your touch as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. The kiss you place on his flushed tip is greatly appreciated— he lets you know it.

"Yeah, honey, I try," he breathes. He smiles so warmly down at you that it's almost like you're not about to suck him off. "Just wait until I get you to bed, yeah?"

"We both know you're falling asleep."

"Well, after we get outta here you will be, too."

"Mm, we'll see."

Atsumu barks a laugh, delicately running his hand up your nape before taking a stronger hold on the base of your hair.

"Oh, you're so on."

#what is this? i dont know. shower sex pregaming with atsumu???? in such a tsumu mood tonight wrote this in 20 #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #kit writes

471 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

best friends dad part three

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only!, extreme age gap, cheating, semi public sex?, kind of caught, p in v sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink

part one / part two / part three

“what were you doing in there again?” your friend stares at you, like she knows the truth but her mind won't let her accept it.

“in where?” you question, looking at your nails like her probing doesn't bother you, like it isn't clear of her suspicion growing, asking about the incident that happened last week.

“in the bathroom. with my dad.” she clarifies.

“oh, i told you already, didn't i?” you scrunch your brows together, like she's the weird one for asking. “i got a splinter in my foot and he was helping get it out.”

you're not sure it's the best story, but it's the first one you came up with when she caught you, rafes cum flooding inside you despite his daughter just feet away, separated by a thin wooden door.

“okay.” she mumbles.

you know despite her questions that she wouldn't dare accuse you or flat out ask if you're fucking her father. you've been through too much together, and she's far too naive.

it's why you're not worried about slipping out of her room when she falls asleep that night, sharing a bed like you always do for your sleepovers.

hallway. you message rafe. you remember the first time you got his number, it was middle school softball season. you would occasionally text him asking for rides home when he picked up his daughter.

rafe is out of his room in a second, a panicked look on his face.

“she could have been awake.” he whispers, eyes wide.

“but she wasn't.” you roll your eyes, not sure what the dramatics are about when his wife didn't see the text.

“what do you want? i told you we can't keep doing this, we almost got caught.”

“i want you to fuck me.” you pull your pajama shorts down your legs, showing rafe that you're wearing nothing underneath. “right here in this hallway.”

“god, this is so fucking wrong.” rafe shakes his head, voice still a whisper as he pulls his cock out from his pants, not disrobing as much as you out of fear of getting caught.

“you say that every time.” you roll your eyes. “yet still cum inside me.”

“shut up.” rafe grunts, pushing you against the wall, your best friends room on the other side, a fact rafe knows too well as he tries his best to be quiet.

rafe picks you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as his already hard cock lines up with your entrance. truth is, he is constantly half hard when he knows you're over, just waiting for you to entice him into sex.

“when was the last time you fucked someone like this, huh?” you smirk as rafe pushes inside of you, your walls being stretched by his length.

“was it when your wife was my age?” you ask. truth is, you don't even know when rafe and his wife met and if it was that young, but you love the way he fucks you faster every time you bring up his marriage.

“your pussy-” rafe grunts out, struggling to keep himself quiet. “your pussy is so fucking good.”

“mhm.” you nod. “and your cock is perfect, daddy. love having you inside me.”

rafe shoves his head into your shoulder to hold back his moans as his hips rock into yours, your nails pressing into his back over his shirt, hoping you leave marks he has to stammer to explain to his wife.

you wonder what it would take for them to divorce. what his wife's reaction would be if she caught you in the act. would it be enough to break up the family?

“touch my clit.” you command. rafe quickly listens, moving his hands from holding your hips up to wrapping one around your waist, the other moving between your legs, rubbing his thumb over your clit.

“that's so good, daddy. gonna cum for me?”

“yeah, close.” rafe warns, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“good.” you smile. “cum inside me. fill up my tight young pussy.”

rafe presses his mouth further into your skin as he moans, cum pumping inside of you in a steady stream, triggering your own orgasm as his warmth spreads, not as quiet with your moans as his thumb continues to stroke your clit through your high.

“fucking hell, that was too risky.” rafe shakes his head. “we can't keep fucking like this.”

“you'll keep coming for me every time i call. you're mine.” you tell rafe as he slowly lowers you, making sure you don't wobble as he sets your feet back firmly on the floor.

“im yours.” rafe says sadly, tucking his cock back into his pants while you pull your shorts back on, knowing you're about to ruin them with cum.

“now give me a kiss goodnight, daddy.” you pucker your lips, rafe pressing a chaste kiss against them. you don't wait to see him go back into his shared bedroom with his wife as you sneak back into his daughters room.

as you lay down back next to her in bed, your eyes adjust to the low light, suddenly haunting your movements when you realize she's awake and staring at you, a hurt look in her eyes.

she knows.

you continue your actions, letting out a sigh of relief when she doesn't say anything. doesn't confess. doesn't get mad, simply rolls over so her back is to you.

you smirk to yourself. she may know, but she won't tell.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @bratetteprincess @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet

889 notes · View notes

tkwrites · 2 months

Text

I can't belive you're here. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I can't believe you're here.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Captain kink unlocked, oral & fingering (f receiving), squirting, swearing, surprise visit, if I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath.

Word Count: 6,000

Comments:

Hoo boy. This is by far the most depraved thing I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you did enjoy it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing!

To the lovely anon who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectations. I had so much fun writing it.

Anonymous asked: 'In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game.' Ohhh, I'd love to see something about this in the future. Later on in their relationship, he's on a roadie and not seen Sarah for 4 weeks due to it and some study trip prior. He has just played either Brady or his brothers who noticed he's really down and missing her, they call Sarah and organise to fly her to his next destination to suprise him after the game. She's waiting in his hotel room, wearing nothing but his jersey to cheer him up after a loss 😉 Or a more wholesome storyline of her first WAG jacket or something aha Absolutely love all your pieces and can't wait to continue reading of their universe xx

I can't believe you're here.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Fatigue and failure were deep in his bones as he walked into the hotel.

Logically, Quinn knew winning streaks always come to an end. It was impossible to have a perfect 82 game season. No one had ever come close to that.

It didn't matter how much he tried to reason, it still felt like shit to be on the receiving end of a shut out after two straight losses.

The fact that they were still on the road didn’t help. The fourteen day trek away from home was always terrible, no matter when it fell in the season, but having it come right after Sarah had to be at a conference was torture. It meant he hadn’t seen her in over 12 days.

It was terrible timing. The day after he got back from the six day Midwest road trip, she left for a seven day ocean conservation conference in Costa Rica. She got back two days after he had to leave again.

It had been nineteen long days since he'd seen her for more than twenty four hours.

They talked and sent messages and photos, but it wasn’t the same as talking face to face and kissing her and feeling her skin and smelling her perfume.

He’d learned from the past and brought her pillowcase with him, but even that was beginning to smell less and less like her.

He only had to get through three more games and five and a half more days before he'd be back home and in her arms.

One of the team assistants ran up to him in the lobby, “Hughes,” he said, a little breathless, “they changed your room.”

“What?” he asked, trying to pull himself from his misery and back to the present.

“They had to change your room. Something about the heater being broken,” Sean said.

“Okay. Petey still with me?”

“No, they had to separate you,” Sean forced the key into his hand as they stepped on the elevator, “I already moved your bags.”

He’d slept four quick hours in a room that felt perfectly fine before heading to the pre-game meeting and meal. He couldn’t remember if he’d left his stuff all over the bathroom counter. Hopefully, Sean didn’t have to go through too much trouble. Quinn definitely owed him dinner.

The room was dark when he walked in. And it smelled like… it smelled like Sarah’s smoky vanilla perfume.

Fuck. He missed her so much, his mind was playing tricks on him.

At least he would have a room to himself, and could call her in peace without the threat of Petey listening in. They could probably even get some phone sex in, which hadn’t happened for far too long.

Then, he would get a full night's sleep before their flight to Chicago. That, in itself, was a rare luxury he was outrageously thankful for.

When he flipped on the light, the first thing he noticed was the king size bed. The bedspread was mussed, as if someone had been lying on it. Strange for any hotel, but especially one this nice. Rooms he came into often looked so pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot in them before.

He pushed the worry out of his mind and started toward the bathroom.

“Hey.”

Great, now he was hallucinating. It sounded like Sarah was right behind him. He must be more tired than he thought.

“Quinn?”

He stopped dead in his tracks, backpack nearly slipping to the floor. If he turned and she wasn’t here, he didn’t know what he’d do.

A touch grazed his shoulder, and a strong whiff of her perfume made his knees shake. “Sarah?” he asked, hoping against hope. Why would she be here?

“Yeah,” she said.

He turned and felt a strange, strangled sort of gasp escape his throat.

Sarah was in his hotel room. She was here. She was in Boston. How was she here?

When his brain finally reconciled the fact that she was actually in front of him, he noticed she was wearing his flying skate jersey.

“I - how?”

She smiled softly, set his backpack aside and wrapped her arms around him.

His body caught on before his brain did, hugging her against him fiercely.

Coming home from her conference in Costa Rica, which had been lovely but incredibly socially exhausting, all Sarah had wanted was to fall into bed with Quinn. When she came home to a dark and empty house, it had been a rude reminder he was on the longest road trip of the year. The apartment felt too big without him in it, especially for so long.

“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck.

“How did you do this?” he finally asked.

He’d known other players' wives and girlfriends occasionally showed up on road trips, but generally, their partners always knew, and it was usually because they were close by one of their hometowns.

“Brady called me. He said you were so sad and not yourself on Wednesday, he wanted to do something. So he bought me a ticket and called Brock to get the schedule.”

He sniffed and she pulled back.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said upon seeing the tears pooled in his eyes.

“I’m just…” The shock of seeing her brought all his emotion up to the surface.

“I know,” she said, pulling him into her again, feeling a few tears slip down her own cheeks. It felt so good to hold him.

His mouth landed on her neck. It was a comforting thing to taste her skin as they embraced. He mumbled something against her.

“Sorry?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could see his face.

He didn’t want to let her go, not even for a second. Instead, he lifted his lips just enough so he could repeat, “I missed you so much.”

“I know Quinny,” she said, running her fingers into his hair. “I missed you, too, but I’m here now, and we have all night.”

His mouth was still on her neck, though he’d started moving with more intent, licking and kissing. The shock to his system was giving way to relief and desire.

Finally fed up with his teasing, Sarah took his jaw in her hands and forced his head up so she could kiss him.

He sighed into it, and found some way to pull her tighter against him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was wearing his jersey, but the shock of her in his hotel room, seeing her face and her blue eyes and her lips - god her lips, he couldn't get enough of them - stole all of his brain power. Now, as his hands splayed across her back, feeling the numbers patched and stitched there, the reality of it hit him.

Forcing himself to break away so he could look at her, his knees threatened to buckle when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything else - not that he could see anyway. The fabric hit her upper thigh, leaving much of her legs bare.

“I -” he tried to say something, but lost the words.

The idea of wearing his jersey came from Emma. Sarah thought it was cheesy, but Emma assured her he’d love it. She’d surprised Brady at the end of a roadtrip like that, and “I swear his brain, like, short-circuited or something. He just stood there, staring at me for like 30 seconds before he went wild.”

It didn’t surprise her Quinn didn’t have the same immediate reaction. He was so much quieter than Brady, and from what she could tell, they had a much more subdued relationship than the Tkachuks.

The way he was looking at her now, though - like she was the thing he'd been anxiously waiting for on Christmas morning - made it all worthwhile.

“I borrowed it, I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

When they were apart, the mechanics of an orgasm could be there, but it just wasn't as good. It could never be. She missed feeling him: his skin, his breath, the rigid length of him inside her.

It wasn’t that she’d been hoping he’d ravish her right away (okay, maybe she had been, but she knew Quinn, and knew he would never react that way), but all this looking without any touching was getting out of hand. Impatience was pulling tight through her stomach. The prospect of finally feeling fulfilled was driving her crazy.

She needed to give him a little nudge.

Leaning in, she let her lips graze his ear, down to his jaw and then back. He made a soft, breathy noise, and she knew she almost had him.

Just one more push.

“How do you want me?” she asked, following it up with a slow, open mouthed kiss to the soft spot under his ear.

Blood rushed from his head so fast he felt dizzy.

“I want you to ride me in this,” he managed to say, fingering the stripes on the sleeve.

It was a fantasy he'd harbored since middle school, but had yet to experience. He'd asked his college girlfriend once, and she had scoffed, telling him it would get too hot, which he thought was a strange argument considering a jersey was designed to do the exact opposite.

Sarah didn’t acknowledge his request other than popping open the buttons of his shirt, one after the other. That set him into motion, tugging at his clothing. He couldn’t get it off fast enough.

Through a jumble of arms and hands, tangling in their effort to get him naked, they found themselves on the bed. Quinn flat on his back, breath heavy with anticipation, and Sarah astride him, trying to game plan her next move. She had on lingerie he’d never seen before and didn’t want it to go to waste, but he wanted her in the jersey, and she couldn’t take anything off without spoiling the surprise.

He grew impatient as she debated, shifting his hips up, trying to entice her onto him already. “Sarah,” he whined.

Finally, she decided to just move it to the side, and sink onto him. The stretch after so long was a pleasant burn.

His eyes rolled back, and his hips jumped, wanting to fill her more.

“How are you so wet?” he asked. They hadn’t kissed for that long. Usually, it took a little more to get her this soaked.

A wicked smile spread over her face, “I may have gotten myself off while I was waiting, thinking about finally seeing you again.”

“Fuck.”

She was a vision. Riding him after so long? Wearing his jersey? Confessing to touching herself in this bed thinking of and waiting for him? He was the luckiest man on the planet.

She pitched forward to get the right angle, and moaned, loud and earnest. Good thing they moved him two floors up from the team.

He tried to brace himself, but the fantasy of it, of her being here and wearing his jersey - the golden C winking at him, reminding him of all the work he'd done to get here - knowing his name was on her back made him groan out loud. His restraint stretched until it was paper thin.

His hands explored under the jersey only to feel something smooth tied at her hip and lace at her ribcage.

He coughed, “are you wearing lingerie?”

“Just for you,” she said, meeting his heated gaze with a coy smile.

He didn’t think this could get any better. Now, his mind was wild with possibilities.

“Come for me and I'll show you.”

Holy shit.

The little control he had snapped and he flooded her with a loud groan of her name.

Sarah's hands traced his arms, entwining their fingers before guiding them to rest on either side of his head as she leaned forward to kiss him.

His chest pressed into hers, catching the scratchy logo on his jersey as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself off of him to go to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and readjust before the next part of her plan could move forward.

He lay there and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was almost too fast for him to remember the way he wanted. The bathroom door opened, and he looked over.

“Alright, captain,” she said, leaning on the door frame. She felt incredibly silly, but relished the way his eyes widened at the nickname, “are you ready to see what I have for you?”

Oh God.

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be prepared for what was coming.

“Do you want to, or should I?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of his jersey, exposing the little heart tattooed on her thigh.

“You can.” His voice squeaked a little as he said it, and he blushed.

Being sexy wasn’t really in her forte, but Sarah tried her best. Lifting the jersey over her head, she thought briefly about tossing it in his face. Deciding that was a step too far, she let it fall to the floor.

Quinn gaped.

Most of the time, Sarah wore cotton briefs - occasionally she switched them for lace or a thong, but this was something totally different than what he was used to seeing her in.

For one, the matching set was so sheer, he could see her nipples through the swirling pattern of the black lace. Then, there was the fact that it was obviously made to be removed. The bra tied in front and her underwear tied at the hips, each with a silky black ribbon, like she was a gift for him to unwrap.

His mind ran away with the thought of tugging the bow on her bra undone with his teeth.

When she did a little twirl so he could see the back, the breath knocked out of his lungs. She looked so damn good, she might just kill him. His heart might just explode.

“What do you think?” she asked, walking closer. She could already see how much he liked it in his wide eyes and panting mouth, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“I -” He didn't know it was possible to get hard so soon after coming.

“Do you like it, Captain?”

His breathing hitched. He never thought he'd have a captain kink, but hearing the title come out of her mouth while she was wearing that? He might just develop one.

Adjusting the bows at her hips so they sat more naturally, Sarah looked at him and repeated, “do you like it, Quinn?”

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.”

She smiled and climbed onto the bed then straddled him. His hands went to her waist of their own volition.

Her hips ground down.

“You can’t do that,” he said, teeth gritted as he forced the words over a moan. The soft texture of the lace against his cock was incredible.

“What?”

“You can’t ride me again. I won’t last and you haven’t come yet.”

She leaned down so her mouth was inches from his, her breath making him hyper aware of his own mouth and how much he wanted it on her.

“And what are you going to do about that, Captain Hughes?”

He topped her so fast that Sarah grunted and let out a little giggle when her back slammed into the mattress.

“Sorry,” he breathed, only half meaning it as he planted a wet kiss at the base of her throat. He moved down her chest, following the outline of her bra with his mouth. He almost made good on his fantasy of biting it open, but held off. He wanted to watch her fall apart with it on.

“What were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off?” he asked, kissing over her tattoo.

“You,” she panted.

“And what were you imagining me doing?”

She whined.

“What was I doing, Sarah?” he asked, lifting his mouth from where he’d just kissed down to the band of her panties.

“You were eating me out,” she confessed, a blush rising high on her cheeks.

Sometimes, he wished she would have told him how much she fantasized about and enjoyed oral sex before the first time he’d done it. There were four solid months he could have been pleasing her he would never get back.

He smirked a little, “is that what you want now?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs.

“Yes, Quinn.”

He tutted, “Yes, what?” he asked as his lips went to her inner thigh.

The bolt of electricity that fractured up her spine tipped her voice into a high, breathy whimper.

When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again, ghosting his fingers against the lace of her panties.

Her hips jumped. “Yes, Captain.”

Oh, it was definitely a kink now. He couldn’t get over the sound of it coming out of her mouth.

He made a satisfied noise and hooked two fingers under the lace gusset, pulling it away from her experimentally. The ties pulled taught, but didn't seem to want to slide over her hips. He tugged again, a little harder.

Flinging a hand down, Sarah grasped the band, “you're going to rip them.”

“I'll buy you more,” he said, almost off handedly, still pulling.

“Quinn, that's not the point. Please don't.”

The pulling stopped, and he pulled back to look into her face. “Okay. I'm sorry.”

Her face melted into a smile, “thank you.” She reached down to ease the ties over her hips.

“No,” he breathed.

Her eyes snapped to his, questioning.

Before she could ask what he wanted instead, he was knocking her hand away and licking one of the ribbons at her left hip into his mouth.

He pulled it away from her with his teeth, eyes growing darker when the bow unraveled and the pieces fell apart.

Taking his time to kiss and lick his way to the other tie, he repeated the action, and groaned when it also untied so easily.

He pulled on the whole thing and flung the garment away. It sailed somewhere across the room, ties flailing.

Sarah bought this set because it was cute and sort of reminiscent of her black bikini he liked so much. She didn't realize what a fetish he would have for the bows.

Settling back between her legs, she whined as he parted her lips and blew on her hot core. Shivers ran up her spine and down to all her fingers and toes.

“What were you thinking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about me doing?”

“You were eating me out,” she repeated, confused.

His laugh chuffed a burst of hot air against her that had her squirming.

“I mean how. What exactly was I doing?

“You want me to describe it to you?”

“I want to do it for you,” he confessed, voice gravelly.

She made a little squeaking noise that told him how much that idea excited her.

“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he said before he leaned in to press his tongue against her, just to feel her twitch.

Something inside her broke. Even though she felt depraved at the very thought of telling him this, it was too late to go back. The possibility of feeling it had taken over her body and wouldn’t let it go.

“You had your fingers on my g-spot,” she breathed.

“How many?”

She squirmed again.

“How many, Sarah?” he repeated, circling her entrance, enthralled at the way she flexed.

“Two.” Her mind made her continue and she squeaked, “then three.”

His eyes widened and shot to hers. “Will they fit?”

She nodded. “If you get me off first, they should.”

His eyes were blown dark and full of mischief when he glanced down then back up to meet hers again. “And how was I using my mouth?”

She moaned out loud just thinking about it. “You were doing that suck and flick thing with your tongue.”

He had no idea what she meant.

He'd done it before: the night they'd been eliminated from the finals last season, but she couldn't very well bring that up. I want you to eat me out the way you did when you'd had one of the worst nights of your career? There was no way. Maybe if she demonstrated...

“I can show you,” she said, grasping one of his shoulders, “I need a part of you.”

He toyed for a moment with the idea of presenting her his dick, but if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stop feeling her mouth, which defeated the whole purpose of this. Instead, he crawled over her and tipped his head to expose the column of his throat.

His eyes rolled back as her open mouth connected with his hypersensitive skin. She ran her tongue over his pulse, following it with her bottom lip, before ending with suction, and a flick with the tip of her tongue.

Moaning, he ground against her hot center when she did it again and again.

He wrenched himself away before he could follow through with his desires to sheath himself and take her any way she would let him.

Settling back onto his stomach, he shook his head to get back into the right frame of mind before leveling his gaze with her perfect, pretty pearl again.

He tried to follow the movement of her mouth, and her hips jumped at the feeling.

“Quinn,” she whined as he eased two fingers into her, curling them against that sensitive spot. “Oh my god.”

He continued on. She could feel the movement of his chin, up and down and in and out with each pass of his tongue.

“Harder,” she begged.

He dug his fingers into her soft spot even more.

Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly. “Oh my god, Quinn. Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop.”

Like he would ever stop when she was at his mercy like this. Grinding into the mattress, he continued on, moaning at the way her body undulated as she moved with him.

She let out a gasping noise as if someone had forced all the air out of her in one swift hit. Her core began to pulse around his fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside her.

Tipping her chin back, Sarah sighed as wave after soft wave of pleasure crashed over her.

When she stopped contracting so tightly, he waited until one of her aftershocks passed to work another finger into her.

Her voice echoed around the hotel room as she cried out.

He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had the wherewithal to separate them from the team. There was no way he wanted anyone, let alone someone who knew them, to overhear this.

“So good, Quinn,” she croaked out. “Feels so full.”

He continued kissing her bundle of nerves the way she wanted, pausing every few passes to suck a little more intensely.

A surge of pleasure coiled low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter until every breath ended in a moan. She felt so full and stretched open. So… Alive. All other thoughts fell out of her brain except Quinn and his silver tongue and wicked fingers.

Feeling as if she might just shatter to pieces if she didn't get some relief, Sarah moaned and panted and begged, “please, Quinn. Please.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, but the waves of pleasure kept coming and coming until it was winding up her spine and pulling so tight, she thought it might just wrench every vertebrae apart and fill each gap with the soft promise of her impending release.

He could feel her high building and kept urging her up the slope. Anxious for her summit, he sealed his mouth to her, milking her clit like her orgasm might just satiate his hunger.

“Quinn,” she gasped, spine arching as her hands abandoned her nipples and rummaged for some way to ground herself. One ended up in his hair, and the other fisted into the bedspread. “Oh my god. I think I'm gonna…”

Her voice dissolved into a noise he'd never heard her make as her muscles locked around his fingers. He forced them to continue, working through her orgasm.

Quite suddenly, as pleasure whirled through her veins, a feeling, intense and ferocious, swelled within her.

As a tsunami of white-hot ecstasy crashed over her, he unlocked a space deep within her she didn't even know existed.

“Oh, fuck! Quinn!”

Something molten erupted in her belly like a long dormant volcano.

Vaguely, she heard him groan as if every fantasy he'd ever had was being fulfilled.

Though he knew women could, he’d never seen it in person, never even imagined what feeling her release gush over his hand would be like.

Sometime last season, Beauvillier had gone on and on about making his girl squirt, and Quinn remembered wishing he would keep it to himself. He didn't want to think about that every time he saw them together.

Now, having experienced it first hand, he understood why Tito wanted to tell everyone he knew.

Pleasure continued to ripple through her. No high had ever gone on this long. It eased away the tension that had knotted up in her body, until all at once, sensitivity and overstimulation set in.

“Too much, too much,” she croaked, trying to squirm away from his touch.

He’d been so mesmerized watching her face, he hadn't realized his fingers were still moving. They uncoiled and stilled, and she melted into the mattress as a sigh melted from her lips.

Her chest rose and fell steeply, the tie of her bra pulling taught with every heavy inhale, making the cups ride up the swell of her breasts. God, she was so beautiful.

It took quite a while for her to come down. He gently eased his fingers out only after she stopped pulsing.

A whine escaped her throat at the sudden emptiness.

Slowly coming back to herself, Sarah registered something wet underneath her.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did I -” her eyes darted to his as her face flushed with the reality of what had just happened, “did you make me squirt?”

“Yeah," he said, crawling over her again, "and it was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life.”

The embarrassment she felt at making such a mess ebbed away with his confession.

“No one's ever done that to me before. I haven't even been able to.”

A look of immense pride took over his face. “Did you like it? I mean, it seemed like you liked it.”

She nodded, “I've never felt anything like it.”

He brought his lips to hers, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her passion throb to life again.

“Well, Captain,” she said a little while later, smiling at the way his jaw slackened and eyelids grew heavy at the title. “I think I've got one more round in me. What do you want?”

He twitched against her.

“I just want you,” he brought his mouth to her neck. “Want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmured into her skin.

“I think we can arrange for that,” she said, fingers winding into his hair.

Bracing up on his elbows, his gaze fell to her bra.

Instead of using his mouth, he twirled one of the ribbons around his finger and pulled gently to ease the bow undone. It fell apart, revealing a knot in the middle.

“It kept coming undone,” Sarah confessed, hands coming up to help him with the knot, which had pulled incredibly tight amidst her heavy breathing and writhing around.

“I think it's stuck. I can't get it out while it's on me, anyway,” she said, raising her arms above her head. “Here.”

At least he'd been able to remove her bottoms the way he wanted. He eased the lace over the swell of her breasts and helped her lift it off.

He made love to her the way he did whenever he got home from a long time away - earnestly and full of wonder, compliments falling from his lips like raindrops, as if they didn’t cost a thing.

“Fuck, Sarah, you feel so good.”

“I can't believe you're mine.”

“You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you.”

“God, I'm so lucky.”

They didn’t cost him anything, but they made Sarah feel like she was worth a million dollars.

“I love that sound,” he murmured when she gasped in pleasure and followed it with a low moan.

As he drove into her again and again, he shuttered and moaned, feeling like she was going to shatter him into a million little pieces

He'd been hot all night. A sheen of sweat had spread over his skin as soon as she'd climbed on top of him in his jersey. The prospect of a fantasy being fulfilled sending his body into a frenzy. Working her up to that intense high hadn't been a walk in the park either. He'd been on edge and so focused. Now, he felt like his body was on fire.

She felt and sounded and looked so good. He couldn't think of anything but her.

When she tipped her face to the side with a loud moan, he attacked her jaw and neck with his lips, desperate to taste her again.

She was here. She was in Boston. She was here, in his hotel, in Boston. He just made her squirt, and he didn't have to be down to the bus until 10 the next morning. He must have been doing something right.

When he felt her fall apart around his cock, he breathed through it and hung on for dear life, twitching with the bliss of it.

Coming down from her high, Sarah was mesmerized by him. The defined set of his jaw, the sweaty sheen to his skin, how his curls fell over his forehead.

“You're so handsome, Quinn.”

She knew he was holding on, hoping to urge another high from her, but she didn't have one to give him. It was time to send him over the edge.

Propping up on her elbows, she traced her mouth along his jaw up to his ear. He let out a panicked little whimper.

“Want to feel you,” she whispered. "Want you to fill me up."

His hips stuttered.

“Come for me, Captain.”

White spots blipped in his vision and he had no choice but to obey.

Her name fell from his mouth like a prayer as she pulled him over the edge.

When they walked back in the room after showering, Sarah realized just how much of a mess she'd made of the bed. There was no way they could sleep in it as it was.

“Oh no.”

“What?” Quinn asked, lowering the towel he was running over his hair.

“We need new sheets and housekeeping is going to know exactly what we've been doing.”

“No they won't.”

She pointed to the bed, “you want to tell me they're not going to know we weren't just having sex?”

He laughed, “fine. So they might know. What does it matter? It's not like we know any of them.”

“It's so embarrassing.”

“What is? That your boyfriend made you come so hard you squirted?”

“No,” she was blushing though, “I mean…no. That was amazing.”

“So what's the worry?”

“I just…I don't want anyone else to see.”

He laughed, “that's fair. I can just ask them to bring some extra bedding. No one has to come into the room.”

She nodded, “okay.”

He called the desk, and despite his insistence he would prefer to make the bed himself, the hotel sent someone up anyway.

Sarah folded the comforter before hiding in the bathroom.

Quinn noticed the housekeeper's eyes lingering in one corner of the room. When he glanced over, he saw Sarah’s panties from where he'd thrown them, ties scrawled over the carpet like calligraphy strokes. So much for being discreet.

After giving the woman a tip, he tucked them in Sarah's suitcase before letting her know the coast was clear.

As they settled into bed, Quinn relished holding her close.

Before sleep could overtake her completely, Sarah needed to set something straight.

“I hope you know that Captain thing is only for special occasions. There is no way I'm calling you Captain all the time.”

“That’s fine,” he said, laughing. “Makes it more special when you do.”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” she said.

She’d called him Captain as a kind of joke, and half expected him to tell her not to do it again. Quinn didn’t even like pet names. She vividly remembered the way he grimaced the first (and last) time she called him baby.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I don’t know that I would have either. I’ve never had that happen before. You said it, and it went straight to my dick. I think your lingerie had something to do with that.”

She propped herself up on an elbow. “You liked the lingerie?” she teased, full well knowing the answer.

He scoffed, “I'm going to dream about it for the rest of this damn road trip.”

Giggling, she leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe I'll have it on when you get home,” she said against his mouth.

He groaned, “don't joke about that.”

“Why not? Wouldn't it give you something to look forward to?”

“I always look forward to coming home to you.”

She looked down at him for a long time, memorizing the love in his eyes. “I love you, Captain Hughes,” she said before lowering her mouth to his to tell him that way too.

“Tease,” he chided when she pulled away.

She smiled and settled back, laying her head on his chest.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before they fell asleep. “I can't believe you're here.”

The next morning, Sarah put his jersey back on and put his morning hard on to good use - slower this time so he could remember it properly.

After room service breakfast and a very steamy shower, he walked her down to the lobby to catch her car to the airport.

“I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You're welcome. You should really be thanking Brady, though.”

He watched her pull away before heading back to his room to pack his bag.

On the elevator ride, Quinn did just as Sarah suggested.

Love you man. I owe you big time.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x ofc #quinn hughes x oc #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey fic #hockey romance #requested #tkwrites requests #asks #answered #qh43

264 notes · View notes

violetsiren90 · 2 months

Text

Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others. You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer.

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like.

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again.

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder.

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks. 

~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place.

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name.

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit. 

~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen. 

-Fin-

239 notes · View notes

eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 4 months

Text

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 24. threesome

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “sharing is caring”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ sodo and rain learn to share their special gift

pairing: sodo ghoul x afab!reader x rain ghoul

a/n: to make up for the missed day i will try to make this fic one of my better ones 🙏 we’re almost done with the holiday hoes event !!!

cw: nsfw content. threesome. switch!sodo. dom!rain. sub!reader. spanking. oral sex (m receiving). piv sex. anal sex. degradation. double penetration.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

“look at you two… just a couple of filthy whores.. oh isn’t this just exciting?” —❤︎

“s-shut the fuck up…” —❤︎

┅✦┅

sodo swore he was seeing things for a moment.

the sight before him looked too good to be true.

but alas, a familiar voice ringed out, snapping the fire ghoul out of his trance and back into reality.

“don’t just stand there.” rain spoke with a snippy tone, sounding irritated from sodo’s presence.

“either you join in on the fun, or you get the fuck out.”

lord knows what force of satan possessed sodo to make him stay, but he did, silently and slowly shutting the door behind him. his eyes never tore away from the scene before him.

what a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. rain has you bent over in a doggy style position, webbed fingers tightly clamped onto your hips while his cock plowed into the rim of your ass, each thrust making you squeal in pure ecstasy. the fire ghoul’s eyes drifted down to the lower half of your body, and he could see how dripping wet you were, pussy leaking and begging for attention while the water ghoul behind you abused your ass with his dick.

rain noticed how his pack mate was staring at you, and he grinned wickedly, one of his hands flying down to smack your ass lewdly.

“gorgeous, aren’t they?” rain spoke with a velvety, slick tone, thrusts slowing down slightly so he can turn part of his attention to sodo.

the fire ghoul just nodded, and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “so this is what you’ve been doing for the holiday season?”

“yes, why? got a problem with it?” rain mused.

sodo scoffed, a sarcastic smirk evident on his face. “maybe. you couldn’t bother to share?”

“well i’m sharing now, aren’t i?” rain quipped back, thrusting in a particular angle that had you moaning into the sheets. “and i can see your dick straining in your pants. so come on, get over here and join in on the action.”

the fire ghoul just chuckled and started walking towards you both. “gladly.”

the fact that rain and sodo were just casually having a conversation like you weren’t being absolutely pounded into, it just got you going even more. your eyes were hazed and blurred with instinctive tears, slowly watching sodo make his way over to you while his calloused fingers undid the fly on his pants.

sodo got up on the bed and positioned himself in front of you, being sure that the front of his lower body was directly at your face. before you knew it, he had completely pulled down his pants and boxers, his hardened cock springing free from the restraints of his undergarments. the spitfire looked down at your lustful face, and smirked.

“like what you see?” he chuckled, one of his hands moving to grab onto the shaft of his dick, aligning it in front of your lips.

your eyes were dotted with stars while staring down at the chub of sodo’s cock. it was already leaking with precum and throbbing with need. damn, he got so turned on just from watching you and rain.

rain seemed to have noticed that you were very much star struck by the sight of sodo’s gorgeous dick. he growled, and thrusted into you hard, making you whine loudly.

sodo saw this and took this as an opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth while your lips parted, making you whimper in surprise from his shaft invading your mouth. though, your lips tightened around it, and sodo groaned with delight.

“fuck. that’s it.” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of your hair to control your movements. “suck on it.”

the sensation of being fucked from behind by rain and sucking off sodo, it was so goddamn hot. to just be used and pleasured by these two incredibly sexy ghouls, it was a fantasy like no other. the eagerness was evident in the way you were sucking sodo’s cock, tongue swirling around the head and getting a good taste of that salty precum. the fire ghoul was definitely enjoying it too, given by how he was grabbing your hair and forcing you to go deeper while his pleasured sounds increased in volume.

while all this was happening, a certain water ghoul was observing you and the fire ghoul closely. rain chuckled lustfully as he watched sodo’s expression morph from arrogant promiscuity, to desperate and needy. sodo’s tongue hung out of his mouth as you sucked him off, and rain was reveling at the sight of you two.

“look at you two… just a couple of filthy whores.. oh isn’t this just exciting?” he chided with a lewd edge, grabbing one of your legs and hooking it around his waist from behind.

sodo let out a high pitched growl and moaned in response, gritting his sharp teeth together. “s-shut the fuck up…”

“oh you know it’s true.” the bassist responded, slapping your ass, a loud smack echoing through the walls and your moans quickly following after.

“you two are like dogs in heat. it’s pathetic, really.”

“h-hahhh… s-screw you rain… ahh..!”

rain was turning you and sodo into his bitches, using your bodies for his own personal pleasure. he liked watching the fucked out expressions on your face, and the blissed twinkle that shone in sodo’s eyes every time your tongue dragged across the most sensitive part on his dick.

eventually, sodo had enough and wanted to feel something better. removing his cock from your mouth with a popping sound, sodo had changed positions a bit.

grabbing your body and lifting your hips up, sodo positioned himself underneath you and aligned his cock along your glittering wet pussy. rain seemed to take notice of this, and smirked. while still inside of you, rain grabbed your thighs and spread them further apart, before forcing your cunt down on sodo’s cock, loud gasps rupturing from your guys’ throats.

your mind was being numbed from the feeling of two things penetrating both holes all at once. sodo was underneath you and sat up slightly, cows grasping at your thighs while he bucked his hips up into you. pleasured grunts fell from his lips as he did this.

“f-fuck you feel so good…” the fire ghoul praised, moving you deeper onto his length. you could only babble nonsensical words while he spoke to you.

rain looked down at the two of you and scowled lustfully. his hand gripped your hair and forced it up while he went to town inside of you.

“look at that, sodo.” rain chided, a promiscuous twinge evident in his voice. “see that face on them? you think that’s you making them feel this good?”

sodo snarled and rammed his hips up further into your tight cunt.

“what ever happening to sharing, rain?” he gritted, tail coiling around your thigh possessively.

“i am sharing.” rain retorted. “was just statin’ the facts.”

“well i think that your ‘facts’ are complete and utter bullshit.”

the two ghouls snarled at each other, their cocks hitting deeper inside of you to try and prove that one was better than the other. you on the other hand, were forced to take it all.

after a bit of back and forth bickering, rain just smirked.

“you know what? how about we just keep fucking them, see who makes them cum the hardest, eh?” rain challenged, and sodo’s eyes fluttered in pleasure and intrigue, anger fading away for a moment.

“i know you like a good challenger after all, firefly. so how about it? wanna keep doin’ this like rabbits and see who gets them off the hardest?”

sodo took a moment to speak back, moaning in delight as he felt your pussy clamp around his cock more upon listening to rain’s words. he had a feeling you were getting excited just from hearing rain’s suggestions. looking directly at you, you gave sodo a haste nod, moaning from the way rain was pounding into you.

that was all the confirmation sodo needed.

“alright then.” sodo confirmed, returning rain’s wicked smirk. “challenge accepted, water boy.”

rain chuckled darkly, and slapped your ass again.

“then let’s do this.”

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

#holiday hoes event #ghost bc #rain x reader #sodo x reader #rain x sodo #sodo smut #rain smut #nameless ghoul smut #smutty drabble #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost smut #christmas prompts #christmas

172 notes · View notes

luvrsbian · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year.

He really liked his job.

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited. 

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young. 

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting.

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to.

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot. 

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.)

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters. 

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch. 

He couldn’t wait.

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year. 

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around. 

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years. 

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied. 

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office. 

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him.

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows. 

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl.

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh.

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.”

The footsteps stop.

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?”

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice.

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this.

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with.

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks.

“Where’s Virginia?”

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy. 

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls. 

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.”

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat.

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again.

“Who are you?”

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name.

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Edward, right?”

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.”

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head.

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.”

You smile. He smiles back.

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar. 

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it. 

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens. 

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed. 

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in. 

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese. 

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert.

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched.

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?”

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him.

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk.

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.”

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.)

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace. 

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?”

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him.

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse. 

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him.

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off.

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age. 

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue. 

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls. 

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You.

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk.

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles.

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.”

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door. 

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.”

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left. 

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide.

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

#ʚ by gwen ɞ #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #tcu #school janitor eddie x school nurse reader

761 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 6 months

Text

.⋆｡Call Your Mom｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom

Stick Season (We'll All Be Here Forever)

Music softly played through the shitty sound system in your car, providing enough noise for you to stay awake but not enough to wake your passenger. Every few minutes, your eyes would flick over to him as if to make sure that he wasn’t just some hallucination that your caffeine addled mind conjured up. But the way that the rare street lamps would cast a yellow glow onto his face and the occasional shift in his sleep meant that he was very real.

Even in the dim light of this back country road, you could see the tear tracks on his cheeks and the dark bags beneath his eyes. He looked so much smaller than you remembered him, weighed down by the world. You wondered briefly about how long he had felt this way, did it start recently or was it always there, just buried beneath a smile and those bright blue eyes that lingered in your dreams.

He drew in a shuddering breath but then settled back to sleep, the wrinkle of worry above his brow slowly disappearing with each mile you drove. You bit back the urge to push back the lone black curl that had fallen onto his forehead. Instead, you gripped the steering wheel even tighter and thought back to a few hours before, when you received a call from someone you thought you would never hear from again.

You were half paying attention to some late night television show, half awake and numb with the lateness of the hour but the relative calmness of your night was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Without looking, you fished your phone from the side table and pressed it to your ear. “Yeah?”

Expecting a telemarketer or some automated message, you were shocked as the speakers let out a pitiful sob followed by a voice you used to know so well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call- I just- Please.”

The drive to his apartment went by quick as you forced yourself to act upon instinct and not listen to the still hurting part of your soul that told you to let him suffer just the same as he left you to do so. The achingly familiar walk up the stairs to his apartment made that little voice grow louder and louder until you could barely ignore it.

Your knuckles hovered over the painted wood of his front door, your nerves screaming at you to leave but then the door opened and you knew that you couldn’t.

Clark Kent, Superman- always so well put together, so stupidly perfect in every way- looked like he was crumbling right before your eyes. Like a great tree wilting away, he was bowed forwards, pale and trembling. You let him pull you into a hug and he collapsed into your arms.

It had been months since the last time you had felt his touch, you were out of practice, slightly clumsy as you cradled his head in one hand and stroked his back with the other. But it was muscle memory, your instincts guiding you back to that spot on the left side of his spine halfway down his back that always had a knot in it but when you dug your fingers into the muscle, he melted, pushing his face into the crook of your neck as his sobs began to taper off.

Neither of you said a word, the discussion, the awkward conversation and the inevitable fight could wait- for a while at least. He trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you guided him down to your car. He squished himself into your small passenger seat and leaned his head against the window as soon as the door shut.

He fell asleep less than 5 minutes after you started driving, this would have normally annoyed you but you knew he needed the rest and you didn’t need to hear the sound of his voice as your mind reminded you what used to be.

Soon, street lights and paved roads gave way to corn fields and the gentle sway of a well-worn dirt track. The porch light was on, guiding you home through the darkness. As you pulled into the driveway that you had driven onto countless times before, the screen door opened and Martha, still dressed in her dressing gown, stepped out.

“Clark. You’re home.” You placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder, softly waking him. Those gorgeous blue eyes looked up at you, reflecting the full moon perfectly. He glanced past your body to where his mother stood then back to you. “It’s gonna be ok.”

His smile was enough to make you forget the miles driven in the dead of night, to heal the heartbreak caused by his hand, to remind you that all things can be set right once more.

[Verse 1] Oh, you're spiralin' again The moment right before it ends you're most afraid of But don't you cancel any plans 'Cause I won't let you get the chance to never make them [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you let it out and let it in [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom [Verse 2] Waiting room, no placе to stand Just greatest fears and wringing hands and thе loudest silence If you could see yourself like this If you could see yourself like this, you'd've never tried it [Pre-Chorus] Stayed on the line with you the entire night 'Til you told me that you had to go [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom [Bridge] Medicate, meditate, swear your soul to Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile wonderin' if you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? Medicate, meditate, save your soul for Jesus Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason Don't wanna drive another mile without knowin' you're breathin' So won't you stay, won't you stay, won't you stay with me? [Chorus] Don't let this darkness fool you All lights turned off can be turned on I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom Oh, dear, don't be discouraged I've been exactly where you are I'll drive, I'll drive all night I'll call your mom I'll call your mom

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @km-ffluv

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8

#stick season (we’ll all be here forever)#clark kent x plus size reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #female reader #plus size reader #reader insert #clark x plus size reader #clark kent x female reader #clark x reader #clark x you #clark x y/n #clark kent x y/n #superman x reader #superman x plus size reader #angst

175 notes · View notes

lilyrizzy · 6 months

Note

trick or treat!! please something angsty as possible

okay this is super angsty! Cw: major character death

"I used to believe that grief was a lot of sitting around and crying,” Max says, looking straight ahead rather than at Grace as he speaks, at, Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, engraved in gold lettering. “On the TV, and a few times when I saw my mum crying about my Grandpa, of course, it was always- It seemed soft, sort off.”

His thumb slots perfectly into the groove of the ‘D’, as he traces the straight line of it, then the curve. Besides him, Grace doesn't say anything, so he continues.

“I know now, of course, that it is not like that at all. Instead, it is like every day I am one step closer to exploding, until I am just a mess. Just- Chunks of Max.”

That gets Grace laughing, abrupt, like he’s startled her. Max laughs too. He supposes it is a funny image, being made into cat food by your own emotions, your inability to deal with them gracefully.

“Did my son teach not teach you anything about grief?” she says, her voice somehow bright and heavy at the same time. For a moment, Max thinks she means- But then- “All those elbows and fists shoved through doors and walls.”

She is talking about racing.

Max shakes his head.

“Losing races, that is not grief,” he says, stubbornly, because he might have thought that at eighteen but he knows better now. His fingertip has reached the first ‘e’ now. He’s taking his time.

“Grief is all about losing,” Grace tries, but Max can’t listen to her compare them, like they are the same. Like Max hasn’t had all his bargaining and begging fall on deaf ears. One more day. Every race win for one more day. One thousand losses for one more day.

“Losing a race is a disappointment,” he insists. Underneath his touch, the headstone is smooth the way Daniel's thighs would be right after he would wax, but cold the way he never was. Max drops his hand. “It is knowing that you did not try hard enough, that- That you have next weekend, next season to try again. To be better.”

There are no more ‘nexts’ for Max. Not ones that matter, not when the future he dreamed up, that used to feel so easy to reach for, is beneath his feet, buried where he stands.

“You can-“ Grace begins eventually, breaking the quiet- “Sweetheart, it’s been a year.”

Grace is silent for a moment, and Max can hear the birds, the noises they make as they fly and land and talk to each other. He touches Daniel- the headstone- again, to steady himself as he tilts his head back to look into the treeline. He can’t be sure, but he thinks the noisy one is a type that Daniel had showed him, the only time they were here together in Perth and he was still alive. A honeyeater.

Her hand reaches for his then and it startles him a little, her soft motherly hands touching him. Skin papery thin, one year older than the last time she touched him, the same way, in this very same spot. It’d surprised him just as much then; she’d never been Max’s biggest fan.

When he trusts himself to look at her face, she’s smiling as though she thinks he needs to hear this.

“Daniel would want you to be happy.”

Max screws his eyes shut, shakes his head so viciously as though to shake away the words he wants to say, to throw into her face, like a drawing on Luka’s etch-e-sketch.

What would you know about that? You did not see the way he loved me, the way we fought, the way we fucked. What would you know about what Daniel would want for me.

“I can’t,” he gets out, because it’s half the truth anyway. Even though the words choke him. “I can’t.”

When he opens his eyes again, he expects to be met with more insistence, more of her steadfast belief that as always, mother knows best.

“You know, when you told me you wanted to keep him-“ her other hand trails over the edge of the gravestone, gently, as though touching somebody she doesn’t want to wake up from sleeping- “I was so angry at you Max.”

Instead, she nods, but doesn't let go of his hand. Then-

Her eyes look sideways towards him, as though daring him a little to question her, to protest, but he stays silent. She laughs, nervously before continuing.

“You don’t- for this you do not need to be sorry,” Max tells her honestly, because it’s almost crueller now, to have her apology said too late, to the wrong person. Daniel died thinking his mother was scared of the sight of him, and now she is apologising for wanting to see him too much.

“I thought that you had him for all these years, the least you could do was let him come home to us. That was- I was cruel. It was wrong. I robbed you of a place, somewhere to go to be with him. I’m sorry.”

Max almost wants to laugh.

Besides, it didn't matter. Max never needed a grave. He’d asked because it had been what Daniel wanted, the only thing he’d asked for in the last days he was verbal. Delirious, but verbal.

Max didn’t need ashes or bones. Not when he’d had Daniel’s hair in their shower drain. His Vans lining their hallway, his oat milk in the fridge, curdled, until Victoria had visited and made him throw it out. When he still has him now, the echo of his laughter every time Max watches a funny film, sat on the sofa they picked out together. His footsteps beside Max on every cobbled street he walks down.

I want to be in the Monaco sunshine, Maxy. With you.

His voice, even if only from videos he rewatches or inside Max’s head.

“I didn’t need somewhere to go,” he tells her, squeezing her hand. “At home, he is everywhere. He is with me all the time.”

#what is more angsty than major character death!!!#i tried to clean this up but also... sleepy.....#max/daniel #fic #cw major character death #thanks anon!

129 notes · View notes

mxmarsbars · 1 month

Text

made a little analysis thread on twitter and thought I’d share it here too if that’s chill ^_^

anyways traffic!impulse using self destruction and the destruction of others as a way to cope with his own frustration and resentment throughout the life series: a messy ramble-y post because I’m crazy.

most of this behavior really only starts after third life. his destructive behavior before then is usually outward and not with malicious intent. instead, he hurt others in third life because he was asked to. it was a part of a greater plan he was undoubtably loyal to and that would later get him killed and tarnish his reputation for seasons to come.

that’s why in last life, he’s much more open to antagonistic behavior (which he barely partook in before and only would if asked of). this mostly includes all the stealing he did that season, the numerous break ins, and of course, spawning the wither. this could also include his personal insistence on becoming the boogeyman and even planning it out in advance (which would later get him killed, his own hubris). he was itching for it to be his turn.

it’s such a huge shift from how he acted in third life, and why? personally, I think it’s because of all the strain and pressure put on him by others and their disdain towards him. specifically the rumors spread about him and the reluctance of others to believe and trust him after what he’d done the season prior. which for some people is justified, like ren and etho, but for others, like bdubs, is not. and this was shown to upset impulse a lot, given how it resulted in him being thrown under the bus, even by his own teammates.

but he’s supposed to be nice and considerate and smart to make up for all he’s done, right? that’s why he sticks with his alliance the whole time and makes a point to be loyal to them and them only. but that doesn’t stop the resentment and anger boiling, and he can only take so much before he has to let off some steam, and destructive behavior seems to be a means to do so.

it turns from him doing bad things because he’s asked to to him doing it because he wants to, to cope. which is why when all else fails and the southlands fall apart, despite him taking the measures to prevent it earlier on, he helps grian spawn the wither, even with the risks and deaths. and he insists on doing it at best’s base, because they ruined him. it gets him killed. he should’ve been smarter.

it gets worse in double life, specifically when homewrecking is proposed. while he’s not the one to bring it up or start the rumors, he soon grows comfortable enough to start talking smack himself. him and bdubs deliberately try to ruin the relationships of others, and they tell themselves it’s to steal away half of each pair for their own benefit, but maybe there’s more to it. maybe they ARE projecting, just like joel had said.

it doesn’t help that impulse is having his soulbound questioned and bdubs “needs” a clock and the horns won’t shut up. when they’re exposed, he takes his destruction to the deep dark. he throws snowballs, he spooks unsuspecting people, he yells into the dark when he finds out his voice can trigger the sensors. throughout the season, he makes multiple efforts to cause distress in the deep dark, malicious intent or not. and maybe it’s to cope with the fact that bdubs keeps sending him down there or etho won’t stop yapping about how bdubs doesn’t want him or how bdubs put a major target on their backs.

and this is when self destructive behavior really starts, too. impulse gives away valuable resources when he realistically could’ve not, he takes risks he absolutely doesn’t have to take (despite how much he values his and, by extension, bdubs’s life), when he’s linked to the fishing rod sequence of death, all he says to bdubs is that it was fun while it lasted. and then he loses their first life trying to get a music disc.

whether he means to or not, he’s slowly killing himself and his soulmate, too. and eventually, by the time he’s red, he just gives in. he starts blowing horn (surely there’s some symbolism there), he terrorizes those better off than him, he wants to cause problems. yet there’s always still some humanity in him that shines through, regardless of his destructive ways of coping.

but this isn’t about that. before the final fight, he even grabs the golden apple him and bdubs had been stashing away, saying if they can’t win, no one can. he would’ve ate it. he should’ve ate it. yet he didn’t, and he died by bdubs’s hand again. more resentment grows.

by limited life, it’s obvious he’s open to dabbling into more chaotic pastimes. bdubs’s ignorance and unwillingness to see his flaws and apologize only fuels the fire. when he’s chosen as the boogeyman, he has a time with it. but he still has the mind to know not to hurt his team, even refusing to use skizz’s accidental death to cleanse himself. but he bombs bread bridge freely, somehow even getting tango and skizz to help him. it’s almost concerning how much fun he has with it.

then of course there’s the complete destruction of bread bridge, which he happily takes part in. and tango’s boogey kill on bdubs, in which he lures bdubs to his demise (something he had been itching to do for seasons). he amasses a huge kill count over the season, his first time murdering anyone since third life.

most of his behavior this season turns more outward, and he grows more keen on sustaining himself the more faith his team puts in him. he is also shown to hold other alliances much less dear than ties, even if they benefit him. this results in the betrayal of many, most notably mean gills in the finale. he fights like hell, he gets his final revenge on bdubs and ends his season, and yet it still isn’t enough.

he begs martyn to kill him, because he’s alone, and he’s scared, and he did all he was asked to do. but they keep him around, despite his pleas. he’s given the illusion of free will, a chance to win, to be given a fair fight. martyn slaughters him in cold blood. a cruel betrayal.

secret life feels like a reset, and most scores are settled, and secret tasks heavily dictate how the sessions go. he isn’t given the chance to cause mass destruction like he could the season prior. he’s not sure if he wants to. most of his mistakes are honest, no self destructive or malicious intent, same with his tasks.

he’s with a team he can trust and confide in. they help him. they care about him. his first two deaths are consensual and willing, something’s he’s never known. the season is rough, but he’s happy. he tries to use his trap as he’s being chased, risky as it was, a final act of stubbornness.

he dies, alone and scared, hearts quivering. nothing’s new. he’ll just have to be ready to cope again tomorrow. get some blood of his hands, whether it’s his enemies or his own.

49 notes · View notes

imsadstuff · 1 year

Text

Loving You Is Red - A Jeon Jungkook Fic, voice memo's that were never sent

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook's name was unheard on the Formula 1 paddock till he got a chance to drive a Mercedes car as a reserve driver. His 2020 starts looking brighter as he signs with Ferrari and meets you, his team mates little sister. So many cliched tropes, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, dating brother's best friend, and most importantly Jeon Jungkook looks smoking hot in a Ferrari! Genre: Angst, lots of it, happy ending Word Count: 3.5kAuthor's Note: So, this is a little extra instalment based on something my boyfriend did. He told me about the voice notes he left for me during our break up. he wanted to call and tell me a million things, but instead he'd leave a voice memo in his phone, pretending like they got to me. made me sob like a baby. so, this is a version of that for loving you is red, different voice notes Jungkook records for OC over the five years they're apart... I highly recommend you read the fic to have a better understanding of this. You can find the fic here

please don't be a ghost reader, likes, comments, reblogs, show your appreciation (given you like it 🫣)

Day after Abu Dhabi Race 2020

Jungkook was hungover and tired, the night had been kind of a blur after he won the race. He still couldn’t believe he was the 2020 F1 world champion, he still couldn’t believe you weren’t in the bed beside him, he still couldn’t believe he let you go.

Jungkook was drinking to feel numb, but the morning came and the emotions were starting to eat him up. His hand hovers over your number, Jungkook wants to apologise and wants you back, but he fights the urge as he locks his phone and throws it on the bed as he walks into the washroom.

Walking back with his towel low on his hips, he picks up his phone again, opening the voice recorder app instead. He needs to let out all the intense emotions he’s feeling.

“Hey, just got done crying in the shower. I feel so overwhelmed and anxious, so much is happening all at once. I can’t believe yesterday really happened” he sighs as the app continues recording as he sits down on the bed.

“I’m supposed to go out and celebrate my amazing season but I feel sick just thinking about yesterday. I feel so guilty, I don’t deserve this win” tears are staining his cheeks again, he takes a few deep breaths to compose himself.

“We weren’t supposed to end this way ___…” your name feels heavy in Jungkook’s heart as he presses stop on the recording. Flopping back in bed, he allows himself to cry a little more, processing everything is just too much right now.

1st January 2021

“It’s been a month and a half since I last saw you, feels like forever” Jungkook struggles to stand still as he records another voice memo. Jungkook’s friends invited him out, hoping to distract him and celebrate the new years, but you were still on his mind.

“The new year started fifteen minutes ago, so my resolution for this year is to get over you, I’m going to get a tattoo to symbolise that too” he promises as he gulps down the whiskey, taking a good look at himself in the mirror. All he sees is a shitty, depressed version of himself and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“I have to start getting over you, I can’t keep feeling broken like this” his voice cracks as he struggles to keep the tears away, he’s been crying a lot more than usual lately.

“I hate myself some more just imagining you being miserable like this. I hope you’ve realised that you’re better off without me, that you deserve someone who prioritises you” he whispers the last part as he lets the tears win once again.

“Happy new year ___, I know this year can’t top the magic that was 2020, but I’ll try. I have to unless all this pain was for nothing” he chuckles dryly as he stops recording. It takes him a few minutes to compose himself, but he does, he’s getting shockingly good at pretending like he’s fine.

Race 2 2021

Jungkook’s frustrated as he shuts the door to his hotel room, it’s the second race of the season and the car is absolutely not supporting him. He can feel the anger simmer inside him as he struggles to fall asleep, he’s been struggling with this for a while now.

“I wish you were here right now. Bad day’s didn’t feel as bad with you” he says as he stares at the ceiling as his phone records beside him.

“You’d probably help me realise that the issues are out of my control, that I need to be a little patient. You’d run your fingers through my hair, in an attempt to calm me down” his hand rakes through his hair as the memory of you doing the same flashes in his mind.

“But most importantly, you’d put on the office because that’s your cure for everything” an actual giggle escapes his lips as he turns off the recording and opens the netflix app.

That night, he falls asleep as Michael Scott does something childish.

Race 7 2021

“Phillip was on call with you while we were out for a photo shoot and I heard your voice for the first time in months” Jungkook sighs as he takes a seat on the kitchen counter, something you’d usually do.

“I was starting to feel better and then I heard your voice” he says as he eats straight from the pan.

“You were talking about the weather in Oxford, adjusting in your new apartment, your voice sounded the same. Soft as always” he stares into his empty, dark apartment as he wonders what your new apartment looks like.

“And all I’ve been thinking since then is how quickly one can go from knowing each intimate detail of someone’s life to being an absolute stranger to them. How life keeps moving on, even when your heart can’t” he’s starting to lose his appetite the more he thinks about it.

“But I’m glad you’re moving on, You deserve to” Jungkook chuckles as he says that, he means that, he truly does.

“In other news, my year has been an absolute shit show so far, Seven races in and no wins for me yet. Maybe I am just a one hit wonder like the press has been calling me” Jungkook doesn’t find any of this funny, it’s eating him up and the problems just keep piling on.

“I need to stop talking into the recording app and go out and talk to actual people” he thinks out loud as he jumps off the counter, packing away the leftovers.

Summer Break 2021

It’s early in the morning as Jungkook walks closer to the water, the Ibiza wind hitting him in the face and waking him up. He’s been vacationing for all of last week, he has been laughing, hanging out with friends, having a good time, he’s truly been feeling a lot better.

Laying on the beach, he soaks in the morning sunlight, taking a few deep breaths before he starts talking.

“Today would've been our one year anniversary” he sighs as he flops back into the sand, just wanting to lay down for a while. There’s silence for a while as the sentence feels heavy in his heart, just the waves crashing and his heart thumping.

“We wouldn’t be in Ibiza, we’d be closer to the mountains, somewhere cold and cozy” there’s a faint smile on his face as he imagines an alternate universe, where the two of you are still together.

“You would have given me some amazing, handmade gift, like a cute photo book that journals our first year together. I would’ve gotten you some jewellery, probably that bracelet you were eying in Brazil” he remembers the exact bracelet he’s talking about, it’s kind of pathetic that he does.

“But in this shitty version of the universe, you’re probably enjoying your time at university and I get to go to some other club tonight and make small talk with a woman I’m not even remotely interested in” Jungkook is bitter and angry thinking about what could have been.

“This was for the best, right?” he asks himself as he picks up his phone, saving this voice note with today’s date.

Race 17 2021

“Phillip took me out to dinner because he’s worried about me, he thinks the car issues and lack of winning is starting to get to me” he sighs as he pours himself another drink.

“It is starting to get to me, I’m so scared and anxious about my future it keeps me up at night. Of course it’s already starting to get to me given the panic attack I had during the last strategy meeting” Jungkook looks back at the difficult few months, it’s truly been challenging.

“He told me about going through something similar last year, and to not let the disappointment and temporary failure swallow me” Jungkook sighs for what feels like the millionth time tonight as he downs his drink in one go.

“Phillip told me to talk to him or anyone about my fears, verbalising my fears to someone I trust might help me. Phillip said that he told you the same after your accident, how the fear of a dwindling future paralysed you” hearing your name at dinner was not something he expected, every few months he’d start to forget about you and one thing and the rush of memories come back to him.

“You’re the only one I can think of when it comes to talking about my fears,” Jungkook says as he slides down the sofa and sits on the floor.

“I wish I could call you ___” he shuts his eyes tight as your name rolls off his tongue. His phone keeps recording as he switches on the tv to dissociate for a while.

Race 22 2021

“So, I didn’t win the championship. Wasn’t even in the top three but that’s the least of my concerns right now” there’s actual joy in Jungkook’s voice as he tussles around in his hotel bed, balancing his phone in his other hand.

“I just got to the episode when Jim interrupts Pam’s talking head to ask her out, and WOW!! The way the biggest smile appears on her face, and how her eyes light up, jesus fucking christ!” he squeals as he sits up in his bed, he might be a little too invested.

"Jim giving up on a promotion for love, peak of romance” Jungkook can’t help but smile, as he thinks back to the scene he’s seen multiple times now.

“After the crapfest of the year I’ve had, I wish I had the willpower to fight Ferrari last year. I can’t believe it’s been a year since we broke up” having spent all these important momentous dates with you, Jungkook can’t help but think back to them a year later.

“Sometimes I can’t believe just how easily you complied with me breaking us up, how you didn’t fight for us, at all” there’s bitterness in his heart about this, he knows it’s irrational but it’s there.

“Something you said sits heavy in my heart, ‘between the two of us, I’m the only one who’s had to give up on a dream without having a say in it’ and that’s just not true anymore” Jungkook remembers every word you said that evening exactly, he just can’t seem to forget them, or you.

“You may have given up on your dream of figure skating, but I gave up on my dream of a future with you”

Phillip’s Birthday 2022

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Jungkook speaks into his phone as he watches the night sky from the balcony. It had been five months since he had recorded a voice memo instead of calling you, he was starting to forget you.

“I knew I was going to see you today, but, um, I still wasn’t prepared to see you” Jungkook left the party early, he’d had enough of you and your very charming, british boyfriend.

“Christian and you look like you stepped out a romcom, with the perfect met cute story” he laughs genuinely as he thinks back at your chatty boyfriend, so different from you.

“I’m kinda glad seeing how well you’re doing. University, perfect relationship, I really am glad” he repeats in attempts to comfort himself. Taking a good look in the mirror, he has the urge to tug off the sweater he hasn’t worn in ages. The sweater he wore just so you’d notice.

That night, he finally packs up all the things he associated with you, the sweaters, perfumes, diary, books you left around his apartment, you’ve moved on, so should he.

Amsterdam 2023

Jungkook rewatches Phillip’s instagram story for the tenth time today, and there’s a smile on his face everytime he does. It’s a video with a caption that reads, ‘Birthday girl returns to the rink’. A ten second clip of you skating on ice with the biggest smile on your face brings him an amount of joy he hasn’t felt in years.

As you twirl on ice, your hands come into focus and Jungkook notices the ring on your index finger. On the previous watches he might have been a little too distracted by the smile on your face to notice you wearing the birthday gift he gave you. He knows you don’t wear it all the time anymore,because it was missing on Phillip’s birthday less than a year ago.

“Happy 23rd ___” Jungkook talks into his phone as he takes in the prettiest sunset in Amsterdam.

“Today is the first time I’m recording a voice memo when I’m not feeling bitter and depressed” he chuckles out loud and shuts his eyes as the smile on his lips only grows.

“I spent your birthday exploring a vintage bookstore, I was celebrating you in spirit I guess” Jungkook was happy with how he spent his day, going through books for hours.

“I went out for lunch and just stumbled upon this place, it was a happy coincidence. I cancelled my plans for the day and spent it doing something you would love. And for the first time in a while, I thoroughly enjoyed doing something that wasn’t racing” all Jungkook had been doing the last year was work, work related activities and training, he had completely given up on his hobbies.

“You would love this place” Jungkook says wistfully as he looks at a bag full of books he just bought.

Race 2 2024

Jungkook looked at the discarded boxes in his new apartment, and he finally moved to a bigger and better place. The movers had unpacked and arranged everything for him, this place feels foreign and unfamiliar. Jungkook opens a few drawers and shelves before he finds the plates, the only set of plates he owns.

Jungkook presses the record button to record a voice memo, something he hasn’t done in the last six months.

“So, I moved to a bigger, better place. I can afford a ridiculously expensive apartment in Monaco because I’m a two time F1 world champion now!” he says with excitement as he eats the takeout food from the plates you bought him.

“But I still haven’t bought plates, the ones you bought are beautiful, with the blue specks of colours. My favourite colour, apparently” Jungkook says as he takes another bite of the mediocre chinese food.

“And the passcode to this place is still the same as my last one, mostly because I don’t want to remember a new set of numbers. Definitely not because I’m hoping for you to surprise me by breaking into my place” he laughs loudly as he thinks back to the time you let yourself in while he was live streaming, Jungkook really thought someone was breaking in and entering.

“I have a stupid logic for why I won last year's championship, other than the obvious skills and amazing car. I started wearing the chain you gave me, your good luck charm might be my good luck charm too” he smiles widely as his hands go up to touch the chain.

“If it really is a good luck charm, I’ll win this year too” Jungkook has high spirits for 2023, he has high spirits about his personal life too. He turns off the recording when a call notification from Ava pops on his phone.

Race 22 Abu Dhabi 2024

Jungkook is dazed and frustrated as he walks back to his hotel room instead of going back to the club, abandoning his girlfriend but he could care less right now. He hadn’t seen you in over two years, and a three minute conversation has left him feeling empty the same way it did four years ago.

Your voice is ringing in his head as he flops back in bed, how frustrated and bothered you were.

“I hate how broken you looked, how broken you sounded” he whispers another voice memo as he shuts his eyes.

“I didn’t just move on like we never happened, it still shocks me how just six months of us being together bothered me for two years. I DIDN’T MOVE ON FOR TWO FUCKING YEARS ___!” he shouts with frustration, wishing he had said this to you.

“I’VE MOVED ON” Jungkook shouts some more to convince himself.

There are some frustrated huffs until he stops recording, his mind is all over the place and your wide, tear filled eyes haunt him.

December 2024

“So, I broke up with Ava a week after I saw you,” Jungkook says, still sitting in his car. Something clicked after seeing you, he knew all this time that he didn’t really love Ava. You asking him if you did just made him realise that.

“I was using Ava as a distraction and I hate myself for it” he sighs, not really wanting to go back to his empty apartment.

“How can I not love Ava, she’s quite literally perfect for me but I can’t imagine a future with her, at all. Am I damaged? Not capable of loving someone again?” he wonders out loud, his frustration and disappointment growing as he thinks about the mess he is some more.

“Seeing you just reminded me of what loving someone felt like…I couldn’t even be completely honest and open with Ava” he whispers shamelessly.

“You told me about your very destructive tendencies in a relationship, how you cheated on Christian because you couldn’t bring yourself to break up with him, and it just made me realise I was doing the same to Ava” Jungkook talks to himself, he’s been doing a lot of this lately.

“I was hanging onto Ava because I desperately didn’t want to be by myself, I didn’t want to be alone. I hate being alone” he confesses and his eyes are getting a little misty as he thinks about his situation some more.

That night Jungkook comes very close to actually calling you, he wants some warmth and comfort but he knows he doesn’t deserve any of that, especially from you.

Phillip and Maya’s wedding 2025

“I should have made some lame excuse about being busy or something, why do I do this to myself” Jungkook whines as he struggles with his tie, how does he not know how to tie a tie as a twenty five year old. He’s been pacing around in the hotel room, worried about ruining his chance of seeing you.

“I’m just going to apologise and shut this chapter, I need a fresh start and that can’t happen until I apologise to you and this is my only chance to because I need to be done with you” he frustratingly takes the tie off, wondering if he can rock the open button, casual look.

“I’m just worried that you’re not going to want to see me and then this whole evening is going to be awkward” he says as he looks for a turtleneck, open shirt is just too casual.

“Is there a delusional idiot in me that thinks that tonight is going to lead to something more? Yes, but you could bring another charming date and shatter my unrealistic expectations” Jungkook is very frightened for a man who drives at 300 kmph every other weekend without any fear.

“I’m just going to ask for your help, this is nothing more than an ex asking another ex to help tie their tie” he chuckles dryly as he downs his drink, needing some liquid courage before he faces you.

Summer Break 2025

“All I want to do is relax and eat tons of amazing food for the next week,” Jungkook says into his phone as he closes the door to his car.

“Then that’s what we’re going to do, but can you at least tell me where we’re going?” your voice booms on speaker and Jungkook smiles shyly, knowing the suspense is tormenting you. It has been a few weeks since Phillip’s wedding, and since the night he realised something, it’s always been you. It will always be you.

“Pack warm, that’s all I’m going to say right now” he giggles as you grumble on the other side.

“Kook, all my winter clothes are packed up, can you come over and help me get those boxes” you say and he laughs sarcastically.

“Is this just a ploy to get me to come over, if yes you have very bad game ___” he says and you’re the one laughing this time.

“You’re replaceable by a ladder Jeon, don’t get to cocky-” you’re interrupted by your apartment bell ringing.

“Too bad, I’m already here” he says as he’s still on call, you’re a little too elated as you swing the door open.

“Hey-” he’s shut up by your warm lips tugging on his as your arms come around him. Jungkook loses his balance for just a second before he holds you close and deepens the kiss. Jungkook doesn’t have to leave voice memos on his phone anymore, he doesn’t have to pretend to leave you messages. He’s glad he gets to call you, he’s glad he gets to hold you, he’s glad he’s given a second chance with you.

Another Author's Note: Still working on an epilogue for this, comment under to be added to the taglist if you still aren't on it!!

Tag List: @blancflms @nadzzzblog @kookiewhtaee @jksoftiitii @oiseul @elisaaru @coralmusicblaze @tearyjjeonn @moonchild1 @jungkooksseuphoria @cookysstuff @ohyeahjk @bobakkoo @whoa-jo @kooromiwrld @littlelandalp @marvelover3000 (the last one didn't ask to be added to the taglist but i'm adding them anyway :))

158 notes · View notes

d1xonss · 1 month

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 41 ~ Peace

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 3

✧ Word Count : 6.4k

In this chapter ~ When the group makes a decision to fight off The Governor in a way they hadn't thought of before, they found they were successful at scaring them away. But they didn't stop there, as they wanted to make sure his men would never come back like they did before. However, a shocking death ensues, though it led to the long-awaited peace they had been craving for so long.

Last night was tough to say the least.

It took about a half hour just for Daryl to finally break away from me, but I waited patiently, holding him close the entire time. But it then took us even longer to finally get back to the prison, everyone rushing over to us and bombarding us with question after question the second we got off his bike. I attempted to calm all of them down, but Daryl had enough before I could even open my mouth to speak.

He snapped at all of them, yelling in their faces about how he had just lost his brother and they all seemed to shut up pretty quickly after that, watching him storm off with nothing else to say. My expression saddened even further as I watched him go, debating in my head whether to just let him go and have some time by himself to process this, or go after him in case he didn't want to be alone.

But ultimately I decided to just leave him be for the time being, explaining to everyone that I didn't quite know what happened, but all I knew was that Merle had turned. I informed them that the place looked like a warzone, leading me to believe that The Governor had something to do with it, potentially Merle's death as well.

The man's voice then echoed in the back of my mind, reminding me of what he told me from the start, that the man would kill him first, then only make his way down the line.

Almost the entire group stayed up for hours after what I told them, coming up with some type of plan to end all of this once and for all. Everyone was fed up, tired of having to constantly look over our shoulder and expecting something to be there waiting to kill us. We wanted this done, taken care of, and finished.

After some time passed and the sun had finally set, the plan now fully set in stone, I slowly made my way back to our cell for the night and saw Daryl laying on the bed with his back facing me. I knew he was awake from the way his breathing was steady, but I said nothing as I gently got into bed next to him. He didn't turn over, or even really acknowledge that I was there, but it didn't bother me in the slightest. He needed time and some space, and I understood that completely.

Though it felt like I tossed and turned throughout the whole night, not being able to stay still for more than a few minutes at least without growing uncomfortable. Maybe it was the nervousness for tomorrow, or everything all together, I wasn't sure. But it was getting harder to ignore that little voice in the back of my mind about the outcome potentially not working out for us in the end. It was what I feared most.

When I finally did fall asleep, I still woke up fairly early the next morning, turning over to see Daryl was still facing away from me, soft snores leaving him now as he got at least a little bit of sleep. I got up quietly, not wanting to wake him as I began to pack up all of our things.

The plan we had devised was that when The Governor and his men roll through here, we would pack up everything and pretend like we fled away. But we were going to trick them, mess with their heads a little bit and then attack them the second that their guard was down. It was a way to scare them, knowing that his people weren't the strongest fighters and that they were scared of us to begin with. Not wanting to come back and mess with us after the scare we were going to give them.

After I gathered all of our bags, I headed out towards the cars to load them all up with all the things I could pick up and place over my shoulders. There were only a few others awake as I made my way outside, placing all of the things in the many trunks we had lined up carefully before offering to take Rick's place where he watched the outskirts of our surroundings. He gave me a thankful nod before he made his way back in the building, making sure Carl was ready to go and doing another sweep through the place to check and see if there was anything we missed.

I didn't know how much time had passed as I looked out to the scenery, making sure they weren't paying us an early visit, but just by hearing the amount of people that were out and about behind me, I silently knew it had been a while. Maybe an hour or two of me completely disassociating and focusing on my surroundings, not really knowing or caring how many minutes passed by.

But the others seemed to be almost ready to go as I glanced back every once and a while, seeing Hershel gathering up Carl, Beth, and Judith to take them out somewhere safe. They were the ones who would take all the things we had packed up, before driving out and finding a secluded place to hide out in the woods until it was all over. The rest of us staying back to fight. I couldn't lie, I was slightly nervous about how well this would work, but it was the best chance we had.

I eventually heard faint footsteps coming up from behind me, turning back over my shoulder to see Daryl slowly making his way over towards me. I gave him a small smile before I turned back around to scan the area once more, not wanting to take my eyes off of everything because of the constant paranoia. But I felt him come up to stand next to me as he too looked out in front of us, an awkward silence filling the air.

I didn't know what to say. He looked a lot better than he did yesterday and he got more sleep than I thought he would, but that didn't mean he was okay. I knew he would put up a front that he was, not wanting anyone else to worry, but I would always know.

Clearing my throat awkwardly, I decided to speak first, "How're you holding up?"

My eyes then closed in slight embarrassment the second the question left my mouth. That was like the one thing you don't ask someone who's obviously mourning.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but his voice cut me off, "Better than yesterday." he stated as he glanced over at me, not taking the question the wrong way like I assumed.

A relieved sigh passed my lips as I nodded, "Good..."

There was another few beats of silence as we stared up ahead, before I felt him gently nudge my side, "Ya weren't there when I woke up."

I let out a soft breath as I turned to face him a bit better, "I know...I just wanted to get a head start on packing everything. Just wanted to be ready, I guess. And...I also wanted to give you some space."

He shook his head slowly, "I don't want no space. I want you."

I smiled warmly at him and nodded, "I just- I just didn't want to say the wrong thing. And I didn't want to push it-"

"Ya don't gotta walk on eggshells around me. I want ya with me, I always want ya with me. I just couldn't talk last night...it was just..." he trailed off, the emotions coming back full force the more he thought about it.

"Yeah," I nodded to show that I understood, "And now I know. I won't leave you alone unless you want to be."

He rolled his eyes playfully, "My God woman do ya ever listen to me?" he chuckled lightly, "I want ya. I ain't ever gonna tell ya to leave me alone, because I want ya with me. Always."

"Well, good to see your sarcastic smartass sense of humor is back." I laughed a bit, "But okay, I'll never leave you again."

He gently grabbed one on my hands, raising it up to his mouth to kiss the back of it lightly, "Good." he nodded.

"I'll even follow you when you have to pee." I joked.

He scoffed, "Okay, no maybe leave me alone for that." he said as he rolled his eyes again.

"No, no, I'll even come with you to shower."

"No, don't-" he began to say but stopped himself suddenly, realizing what I had said as he watched me raise my eyebrows. "Alright...maybe you can come with me for that." he said seductively.

I laughed, bringing my hand up to the back of his neck to bring him close, placing a delicate kiss on his lips, before he quickly pulled back once more as if he forgot something. "Oh, and... m' sorry for all the shit I said to ya yesterday. Ya know I just want ya safe...right?"

I shook my head, "Stop. We're okay, I promise."

He nodded, "I love you."

"I love you too." I smiled and pulled him back in for another kiss.

A few long moments passed where we were just lost in one another's touch, craving the feeling of each other as we were tucked away where no one could really see us. Using the privacy to our advantage as I truly had missed him. Even if it was only a short while.

But the moment was cut short quicker than I expected as someone suddenly cleared their throat from behind us, causing us to slightly jump apart in surprise. Michonne stood there with a small smirk on her face and her hands on her hips as she approached, "Sorry...can I just talk to Rose for a second?" she asked.

We both nodded quickly, Daryl coughing awkwardly as he tried to get away as fast as he could with the embarrassment that was creeping up the back of his neck. Michonne's gaze followed him before looking back at me to see my face a little flushed as I laughed a bit uncomfortably.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." she lightly teased as she came over to stand next to me.

I waved her off, "No, don't worry about it. What's up?" I asked.

She paused for a moment as if to collect her thoughts, "I realized never thanked you for trying to help me. And for taking me in, in the first place."

"Oh no, you don't need to thank me-"

"I do." she insisted, "So...thank you."

I gave her a soft smile, "You're welcome."

"But I also wanted to ask why? I mean you didn't know me at all, you still really don't. So...why were you trying so hard to help me?" she asked.

"Because you needed help." I said simply, "I wanted you to stay because you're a badass and I like you," I winked and she chuckled at that. "And I tried to help you because The Governor is crazy, you of all people would know that better than the rest of us. I just wanted you safe because you belong here...you're a part of this group now."

A slow smile spread across her face as she nodded at my genuine reasoning, "Well...thank you again." she spoke genuinely.

I nodded again as we stayed standing side by side, allowing the peaceful silence to take over as we watched the woods carefully for movement. I felt myself take in a small breath before exhaling it deeply, trying to mentally prepare myself now for the shit show that was about to go down here.

All I could see was darkness as I waited patiently in the tunnels, the anticipation was beginning to kill me as I had no idea what was happening. Glenn and Maggie attempted to convince me to stay with them near the hidden area outside when the time came, to shoot at their feet as they fled, but Daryl was having none of it. He truly meant it when he said he wanted me by his side when The Governor came here, to calm his nerves knowing that I was safe and within his sight. Though no one argued too much considering what he was going through.

Though a part of me wished I had taken them up on that offer regardless because at least out there I could see my own hand in front of my face. Down here, the only light shining in were through the small windows up high against the cement walls, if that at all. I began to worry the longer we sat down there that I wouldn't be able to see a damn thing when it came time to do the most important thing. Aim.

But suddenly, hushed and unfamiliar voices entering the tunnels is what snapped me out of my thoughts, confirming that they were finally here and had found nothing, luring them to search through the dark area. I began to tense up the moment their voices became clearer, their footsteps coming closer and closer to where we hid, and I quickly felt someone grasp my hand. My body jumped a little in surprise, but relaxed quickly once I felt them squeeze my hand three times in reassurance, causing a small smile to trace over my lips.

Hearing The Governor and his people finally creeping up far enough, Daryl gave my hand one more squeeze, signaling me to finally throw the flash bomb. I nodded to myself, though he wouldn't be able to see, quickly pulling the thing from my pocket and pulling the pin out of it, before throwing it around the corner and into the darkness with a small clink.

The second it exploded, they all began to scream as Rick and Carol did the same thing from the other end of the hall, hiding back behind it quickly. The sudden noise, smoke, and gunshots we began to fire near them only drew in some stray walkers into the area, causing them all to panic even more than before. They all fought them off as best as they could, firing through the dead as they rushed out of the place with their tails between their legs.

We were then only met with deafening silence, but none of us seemed to trust it yet, all of us staying quiet as we listened for anything else. There were brief and quieted gunshots coming from outside, hearing them began to scream again as Glenn and Maggie fired bullets to get them out of here faster. Once everything seemed to stop and there wasn't another sound to be heard, we finally all stood back up and headed out towards the entrance, seeing if it had actually worked the way we hoped.

We opened the door hesitantly, seeing that The Governor's men peeled it out of here with nothing left behind. I sighed in relief as Daryl wordlessly pulled me into him, walking out further to check on Glenn and Maggie. The couple looked like they were on cloud nine the second we spotted them, Maggie quickly rushing up to me to wrap me in a hug, while Glenn came around and sandwiched me in between them. We all laughed in relief and pure astonishment that our plan had worked, glancing through the trees to make sure their vehicles were nowhere in sight.

"We did it, we drove them out." Rick stated.

Michonne's eyes stayed fixated on the trees, squinting through them as she thought to herself, "We should go after them."

I almost couldn't believe I was about to agree, but I knew she was right. We couldn't just let them go as if nothing ever happened. We had to make sure they weren't coming back. "...We should finish it." I spoke.

Maggie's expression began to turn sour as she shook her head quickly, "It is finished, didn't you see them hightail it out of here?" she asked.

"They could regroup." Michonne said, "We can't take that chance, he won't just stop here."

Carol was breathless as she nodded along in agreement, "They're right, we can't keep living like this."

"So, we take the fight back to Woodbury? We barely made it back last time." Maggie stated.

"I don't care." Daryl spoke lowly, wanting to end them for good after everything that went down yesterday, grief and loss still fresh in his mind.

A tense silence fell over us, though we all knew that it couldn't just stop here no matter how much we wanted it to. We had to know it was over for good, not wanting to take any chances in case they could somehow come back from this.

Knowing that we were all somewhat in agreement about what to do next, we gave Hershel the okay for them to come back now, knowing that it was safe. They rolled back up slowly through the gates before parking the car off to the side, beginning to unload everything back into the building as we all pitched in to help in one way or another.

I attempted to busy myself with the few crates of food, bringing them back into the building and setting them down on the empty tables in the common room. My pace was somewhat fast as I moved the items we had saved up back onto the shelves, before I spotted Beth walking back inside the building safely. She bounced Judith in her arms as she approached me with a smile, seemingly just as relieved as the rest of us.

"I would hug you if I didn't have this baby in my arms." she joked as she walked up to me.

I laughed softly and kissed the top of her head, moving down to Judith's as well before I spoke, "You guys were okay out there?" I confirmed.

She looked weary, "Yeah...but uh... we sort of ran into this kid while we were waiting. We think he was with The Governor, and he ran up on us. He had a gun, but he was handing it over and... Carl just shot him."

I was taken aback, leaving it to process for a moment before I shook my head in slight disbelief, "Wait what?"

"He's changed, he's...gotten colder. Especially ever since Rick admitted to us about Michonne, he's been so angry. I'm worried about him." she said quietly, making sure no one else could hear.

"I know he hasn't been the same since his mom, and... who would be? But that makes me worry more about him too. We'll both just... keep a close eye on him, yeah?" I asked.

She nodded in agreement before Hershel called her over to help with their things, giving my arm a gentle squeeze before she walked away and back towards the cellblock. But not even a second after she left, Carl made his way back inside to drop off more food I was attempting to put away. I gave him a smile as he passed through, but he only glanced over at me somewhat distantly before walking back towards the door to carry more things.

My brows furrowed, "Hey!" I called out to him before he could fully escape.

His shoulders dropped down with a deep sigh before he turned around to face me again with an annoyed expression, "What?" he asked sharply.

"Woah okay, hi." I spoke in slight surprise at his tone, "You...doing okay? What's up with you?"

"Nothing, get off my back." he snapped as he turned around to speed walk away from me.

I scoffed, "Oh yeah, you better run with how you're talking to me." I called after him, watching as he only moved faster out the door upon hearing my tone.

I knew now wasn't the best time to be petty, but his attitude has been a nightmare. He's never dared to snap at me, leaving me to only witness the many times he's been cold and distant towards the others, but mainly the pattern continued to fall on his dad. I knew he was going through a lot, doing things a kid should never have to do, but it truly tested my patience when he acted distant toward the people who were only trying to help him.

I only sighed to myself however, watching the door he left through without making an attempt to go after him, heading in towards the cellblock instead to give him some time. Carol stood there with the many bags and people's belongings piled up, handing me mine and Daryl's with a smile. I took them from her hands before making my way up the stairs, dropping them on the cell floor for now before I began to pick through my bag for my remaining weapons.

Loading ammo into the handgun I still held onto, and making sure I had enough arrows to take with me as well as my knives, placing them all back in their regular spots around my hips as I pulled them one by one from the bag. But I stopped suddenly when I heard a shuffling sound from behind me, turning around to see Daryl standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression. But it wasn't hard to guess what was going through his head.

I sighed, "What is it?"

He stalled for a moment as he kicked the ground with his dirty boot, "Is there...any chance of convincing ya to stay here?" he finally asked somewhat hopefully.

"No." I deadpanned, causing him to sigh and hang his head while I turned back around to place the rest of my weapons on me.

"Please darlin, I don't want anything to happen out there. I don't wanna take that chance." he pleaded.

I huffed softly and stood up to face him, placing a hand on his cheek, "I thought you always wanted me by your side?" I asked ironically, "Look, The Governor could still come back here if he wanted to. So technically I'm not safe either way."

He sighed heavily again as he thought, before placing his hand over mine with a nod, "Alright."

"We'll be careful," I pecked his lips, "We always are."

He was still very unsure, but in the back of his mind he knew that I could take care of myself no matter what kind of situation we were in. So, we walked back out of the prison together, weapons in hand to place them in the cars and load everything up once more. Hopefully for the last time.

"We're staying," Glenn announced, motioning to himself and Maggie as we gathered around once more before we left. "We don't know where The Governor is, if he comes back, we'll hold him off."

Daryl turned back towards me with hopeful eyes, "No." I repeated again, watching him huff and turn back to continue to load up the car. The two seemed to have a laugh at that, before confirming that's what they really wanted to do, needing to have a watchful eye here in case of any unexpected surprises.

I pulled both of them in for a quick hug, not knowing for sure what would happen out there, before repeatedly telling them to stay safe. It was almost harder now knowing that we were leaving them here to keep the place safe, but we all silently knew it was for the best.

I turned back and made my way over to Daryl's bike. He handed his crossbow over his shoulder to me so I could place it on my back, extending his hand out to help me on before starting up his loud engine, taking off down the gravel roads. Rick and Michonne road in the car not too far behind us, looking back to see the group standing outside waving like crazy as they watched us leave.

There was a pit in my stomach for most of the drive, trying to ignore it as best as I could while the wind whipped by us quickly with how fast we were going. Although, we weren't on the road for very long, not even halfway to their community before we came across what looked like a bunch of abandoned cars parked on the side of the road. We slowed to a stop, seeing a few walkers scattered around feasting on a few fresh dead bodies that where all laying in puddles of blood.

I hopped off the bike quickly, moving to hand Daryl his weapon before pulling out my gun to aim at the dead, Rick and Michonne coming out of the car not even a second later with their weapons drawn as well, scanning the area in suspicion. We all stepped forward to kill the remaining walkers before they could even notice our presence, taking them out quietly as we looked around for anything, wondering what the hell caused this kind of disaster.

I took in the scene in front of me as I slowly backed up, seeing the handprints of blood and guts that were spilled everywhere on the pavement before my back suddenly hit something. I glanced over my shoulder to see I had backed up into a truck, glancing up at the blood that had smeared on the door of the vehicle. But my heart about fell out of my ass as I quickly jumped back upon seeing two hands coming up to the window with a loud slap.

Everyone immediately aimed their weapons towards the glass the moment they heard the noise, squinting through the tinted window to see that the woman in there was still very much alive and nearly shaking in her boots. Her brows were furrowed with fear and her hands shook violently as she glanced around at all of us, her eyes darting to the weapons we had in our hands.

I loaded my gun quickly as I backed up further, "Open the door." I said with a nod of my head, watching Rick move to place his hand over the handle.

The woman came out of the truck instantly the second the door was open, completely disregarding the weapon in my hands and threw her arms around me in a hug, "Oh thank God." she praised as she squeezed me.

I tensed up, "You have about five seconds to get the fuck off of me." I said lowly and she quickly got the message, jumping back with her hands raised.

I pointed my weapon at her head as I nodded around the area, "What the hell happened here?" I asked her.

"The Governor. He shot everyone; he killed them all." she cried.

"The Governor did this?" Rick asked.

I turned to look at him with narrowed eyes, "Did she stutter?" I asked sarcastically.

He fixed me a glare before turning back towards the woman, gesturing with his gun as he spoke, "We need to get to Woodbury, and finish this."

She seemed to understand, nodding frantically, "Take me with you, I can get you in."

A part of me didn't want to agree, we didn't know this woman for shit but I barely even got to open my mouth before Rick was suddenly nodding his head. He gestured for the woman to follow them to the back of their vehicle, helping her in and getting her situated while I tried to pretend like this wasn't a terrible idea.

But we needed to get in, and that's all I cared about.

Night had fallen by the time we made our way up to the familiar gates of Woodbury. It seemed oddly quiet as we slowly made our way through the abandoned cars still littered outside, ducking behind them as we approached closer. We were getting close. But suddenly there were shots coming from the top of the gate, the people on watch somehow spotting us as they fired into the metal of a car we all quickly ducked behind.

"Tyreese! Stop!" the woman yelled over the gunfire.

My mouth slightly dropped in realization as I ran a hand over my face in annoyance. If this was the same Tyreese that Rick screamed at and threatened with a gun, we should all just go ahead and walk away now.

"Karen? Karen, are you okay?!" the man yelled back, squinting through the darkness, watching as she began to stand up to her full height from behind the vehicle.

"I'm fine!" she replied.

"Where's the Governor?" he asked.

"He fired on everyone, he killed them all. These people saved me!" she informed him as her hand gestured down to all of us, giving us the chance to stand as well with raised hands.

The man didn't respond, but the sounds of him opening the gate clearly proved his curiosity, wanting to know exactly what happened. Almost as if he couldn't believe it. We all slowly began to walk up closer to meet him halfway, and my brows immediately raised. There in front of my very eyes was Tyreese and his sister Sasha, the same exact people that Rick flipped out on as he waved a gun around their faces.

I didn't even hesitate as I ducked my head down, turning on my heel to walk away in the other direction to avoid the painfully awkward tension. But I didn't get very far as Daryl caught my arm to stop me nearly the second I turned around, pulling me back to walk forward.

"Come on." I pleaded quietly, noting how close we were getting to them.

He shook his head, "Nah, we go down, we go down together."

I huffed as I ripped my arm away from him and turned to face the brother and sister once again, Rick stepping up to give them a nod, "What are you doing here?" Tyreese asked us while lowering his gun.

Rick sighed, "We came to end this, until we saw what The Governor did."

"He- he killed them?" he asked.

Rick just nodded his head, "Karen told us on the way here that Andrea hopped the wall going for the prison. She never made it." he finished.

Well shit, this was news to me. But Tyreese nodded immediately as he gestured for us to come in with the intention of finding her. Rick moved through the streets easily, not really needing any kind of direction as he assumed she could be in the same building where they held Glenn and Maggie hostage. Without all the smoke covering every inch of the buildings, it was a lot creepier here than I remembered, the uncomfortable silence lingering in the air.

As we finally made it to the familiar tall building with our weapons raised, we searched through the place cautiously but there was no one nearby in the narrowed halls. Though eventually we turned a corner to see a door we hadn't cleared, noticing blood pooling out the small crack underneath of it.

Worry was planted in all of us after seeing that, Michonne quickly taking out her sword while Rick didn't hesitate to break the lock. The door practically swung open after he had got it, peering inside quickly to see a dead body laying right in front of our feet, blood pouring from their head. I recognized the man immediately as Milton, the man we grew to know as we waited together for the meeting to end.

But shock grew on Michonne's face as she stepped in further, seeing Andrea sitting up against the wall only inches away from the man, blood covering the entirety of her body. She was still alive, breathing shakily, but looked to be hurt pretty badly. We all piled in after seeing her, Michonne dropping to her knees at her side as her eyes scanned quickly all over her body for any kind of injuries.

The rest of us seemed to stay back a little as we watched in guilt, seeing her on the brink of consciousness as she tried to keep herself from passing out, smiling the second she recognized it was really us.

"I tried to stop them." she whispered.

Michonne's hand went instinctively up towards her forehead, feeling how warm it was as she moved her hands to the sides of her face, "You're burning up."

Andrea stared at all of us for a moment, moving her hand up slowly towards her shoulder, and pulling her jacket down for us all to see. Revealing a giant bloody bite mark embedded in her skin. We all froze at the sight, Michonne letting out a breath of disbelief as she stared at the injury, not being able to take her eyes away.

"Judith, Carl, the rest of them..." Andrea started.

"Us," Rick corrected her as he slowly got down to her level, "The rest of us."

She smiled slightly upon hearing his voice say that to her, one of the last things she would ever hear was that she was truly always a part of the group no matter what. "Are they alive?" she asked.

Rick looked back towards Daryl briefly, Merle crossing his mind before glancing back towards Andrea and nodding, "Yeah...they're alive." he told her.

My hand moved down discretely to grasp Daryl's hand with my own, giving it a squeeze in reassurance at the things that were most likely still clouding his mind. He looked down to me, his expression neutral yet grateful as he gave my hand a small squeeze in return.

Andrea sighed in relief at Rick's words, glancing back towards Michonne with a smile, "It's good you found them." she told her.

Michonne only nodded her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears and her face contorting with sadness, "No one can make it alone now." Andrea hinted.

Daryl began to nod, "I never could." he stated, swallowing a bit thickly as I felt him grip my hand a little bit tighter than before.

I felt myself smile as Andrea's eyes were glued to us, laughing lightly as she shook her head, "You guys are made for each other. I'm glad you finally saw it just as much as the rest of us did back on that farm."

My eyes softened as I caught her gaze, sucking in a soft breath, "Andrea, I'm sorr-"

"Me too," she smiled slightly, "We got on each other's nerves but...I still wanted you to be okay."

In the back of my mind, so did I. Andrea got under my skin just as much as I got under hers, but deep down we were still family and I never wanted to see her go like this. It hurt all of us to witness.

"I wanted you to be okay too." I agreed.

She smiled tiredly before turning back to Rick, gesturing for the gun in his hands, "I can do it myself." she breathed.

"No." Michonne declined immediately.

"I have to. While I still can, please? ...I know how the safety works."

A chill went up my spine at her words that she said so long ago, yet it still felt so recent. Rick debated in his head for the longest time, truly not wanting her to have to do this herself, but then slowly handing her the gun. Knowing that this is what she wanted.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." Michonne told her.

She nodded in agreement before taking on last final look at all of us, a certain sadness written in her eyes, "I tried." she spoke barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, you did. You did." Rick assured, placing one last comforting hand on her shoulder.

After saying some type of goodbye to her, it was difficult to leave the room, knowing that this would be the final time we would ever see her. But yet we all found the strength, seeing Tyreese still lingering outside of the room, sending each of us a sad and understanding look to tell us that he heard everything.

I leaned up against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, feeling Daryl come up next to me to follow my actions, beginning to chew on his thumbnail anxiously. There was a long and agonizing silence that followed, before a single gunshot was finally heard from outside the big wooden door, only followed by more silence.

I felt the slight chill of the morning air as I rode on the back of the motorcycle back to the prison. My arms wrapped tightly around Daryl's middle as he occasionally reached to give my hand a squeeze. The long ride back gave me time to think about the things we were doing, the things that we chose to do and move forward with. Though none of us really had to think twice of the idea because all these people from the abandoned community wanted was a fighting chance. Knowing The Governor had ran like a coward, they had no one else to turn to. And we wanted to give them the opportunity they deserved.

As we finally made it back to the familiar building, Glenn and Maggie opened up the broken gates for us, not even attempting to hide the confused look on their faces as a giant bus followed in right behind us. Daryl pulled over to a stop a little further in than usual, getting off his bike while I followed his actions from right behind him. Our eyes then landed on the school bus now parking front and center, watching the many people begin to pile out of it and glance around at the new place they would call home.

The rest of the group came out of the prison in obvious shock, Rick making his way over to the rest of them to explain everything that went down in Woodbury. I knew this would all be a huge adjustment with the many new people we hardly knew moving in to stay with us, but it was an adjustment that I was willing to make. One that I for once was willing to accept.

"Ya think this is gonna work?" Daryl asked.

My eyes followed the new people for a moment, noticing a few little kids bouncing around in excitement along with a woman holding a small baby, and I felt myself smile. "Yeah." I said simply as I glanced over at him.

He smiled softly, having a certain glint in his eye that made my brows furrow, "What?" I asked with a tilt of my head.

He shrugged, "Nothin." he said simply, causing me to drop the topic as I looked back to the many people still introducing themselves as they greeted everyone with warm smiles, resting my head on his shoulder as my mind began to run with all the possibilities.

I couldn't help but think about the bright future that we could have here, together. A small smile stretched on my face as I was confident that everything was going to be okay. We didn't have to run, or fight, or live in constant fear of The Governor. We could all just finally be at peace.

But even though I looked away, I could still feel Daryl's eyes on me. And all I wanted to know is what the hell that man was thinking.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ DARYL POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I’m gonna marry this girl.

~ Thanks for reading! (Ahhh season 3 is done!!)

Taglist - @justareader95 @hayley1998 @welcumetomyescape @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee

41 notes · View notes

aurevell · 5 months

Text

❄won't mean a thing, dear (if you're not here with me) ❄ Steter | 34k | M

Stiles, who was just about to comment on the blinding glare from the Christmas lights, slowly shuts his mouth. Realization is dawning, and he feels like an idiot not to have seen it coming. “Surprise! Christmas isn’t your thing,” he guesses, resigned. Peter gives him a look like he’s insane to even bring it up. He probably is.

Peter and Stiles’s whole relationship is built on sarcasm and disdain for the world at large. No topic is safe from mockery. (Unfortunately, they may not be on the same page about the holiday season.)

Some days, Stiles is convinced Peter’s only dating him because the guy gets off on pushing buttons. That’s Peter’s main source of amusement. He knows Stiles is never more than a second away from some minor crime at any given moment, and he likes watching Stiles reconsider and bend his already flexible morals. Likes being the one to urge him on.

Some days, Stiles likes to let him.

Some days.

“Yeah, I dunno about this,” Stiles mutters dubiously, peering through the chain-link fence. When he grabs on, squinting for a closer look, the metal is icy against his skin. “It’s kind of a stretch, dude. Even for me.”

“What’s the harm?” Peter inquires, his tone even. Still, Stiles can hear the smirk without looking. “It’s just a peek. Sixty seconds.”

“Psh. Yeah, right. Sixty seconds now, until we actually get in there and look around.”

It’s late, maybe a little past one in the morning, and the two of them have been meandering a slow circuit through the neighborhood around Stiles’s apartment. Which, yeah, is kind of a weird or even suspicious thing to be doing at this hour, depending on who you ask. Dangerous, too, considering the area. But it’s safe enough when one of you is a literal creature of the night and the other knows his way around a curse book.

It’s also kind of a necessity. Late-night walks are sometimes the only thing that helps Stiles nod off when he’s got too many thoughts rattling around in his head. The rhythmic steps, or maybe the familiar neighborhood setting, always calms his nerves somehow. Or else it just burns off his restless energy. Stiles hasn’t psychoanalyzed himself or anything, but it does the trick.

As for Peter’s presence, that’s a semi-recent thing. He used to just pretend to get offended that the sex alone wasn’t enough to tick the right boxes and knock Stiles’s lights out. But it must have gotten boring sitting around indoors and waiting for him to come back, and the guy has never been one for pillow talk anyway, so he’s started tagging along. Plus, he likes fucking with evening joggers who don’t expect to find someone lurking around the corner in the dark. (See? He’s all about the amusement factor.)

Anyway. They’ve paused here by the fence because Stiles has been keeping an eye on this city block for months. Construction has rattled the ground and diverted local traffic forever. Gleaming in its wake is a new building, freshly raised: a mixed-use space, with apartments above and a couple shops at ground level. One of which, the signs promise, is a coffee shop. A coffee shop, and this cannot be emphasized enough, that is only one block away from where Stiles lives. It’s like some beneficent cosmic being decided Stiles Stilinski does deserve nice things, after all. Things like fresh coffee after an all-nighter. Wi-fi when his shitty router kicks out. Maybe even sandwiches and pastries and stuff—he’d sell his soul for decent bear claws within walking distance.

“You did say you wanted to see the inside,” Peter reminds him idly. The building’s been done for weeks, but the fence still blocks half the sidewalk, keeping pedestrians away from the new facade. Even to Stiles’s human nose, the whole area smells pleasantly of sawdust and fresh paint.

“Yeah, but c’mon. I meant when it was finally open. And anyway, can see it fine from here,” Stiles retorts, and it’s kind of true: with the glow of the streetlight behind them, he can make out the gleam of new machinery and the dark shadows of tables and chairs. “Hey. Look, they even have folding windows. For when it’s nice out.”

“Those are nice.” Peter observes. “Easy to break into.”

Stiles tries his best to fight back a grin, because you can’t encourage Peter at times like this. Give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. “Ok, babe, just so we’re clear. We are not breaking—”

“—into your new favorite coffee shop, which you haven’t shut up about for more than five minutes at a time in weeks? I’d think twice about passing on the opportunity. Once they’ve set up their security system, it won’t be as easy.” He hums, as if a thought has just occurred to him. “You know, they probably have all kinds of decor in there. For your sign collection.”

There are a bunch of dark shapes spread out on the walls, some kind of decorations. A few large ones that are probably just menus or something, but smaller ones too. Could be signs, could be art. “I don’t have a—it’s not a collection.”

“It’s eleven signs. What’s that you always say? Two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern? ‘Eleven’ is probably a collection.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Stiles laughs.

The squeal of bending metal cuts through the quiet. Stiles drags his eyes away from the cafe windows to find Peter peeling up the bottom of the chain link fence, all casual, like it weighs no more than a sheet of paper.

Peter smirks. “It’d be a crime not to.”

“Peter,” Stiles replies, amused, “this is a crime. This is a literal crime.”

“I bet they have those deluxe espresso machines you get so hard for.”

Stiles heaves out a long-suffering sigh, taking in those dark shapes through the window, and pretends to still be thinking about it. He briefly glances around, like anyone else is crazy enough to be out in the cold this time of night, like Peter wouldn’t hear anyone within earshot anyway. Peter lifts the chain-link fence a little higher. An invitation. The same way some boyfriends might hold open a door.

“Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath. He ignores Peter’s triumphant smirk as he ducks beneath the fence. “Sixty seconds.”

A week and a half later, Cuppa Life Cafe opens to very little fanfare. It’s just a tiny cafe on a tiny street in a tiny town—who cares? But to Stiles, it’s revolutionary.

It’s a shiny new distraction to break up his days. When he’s doing research for his magical consulting clients, when he’s combing through digitized bestiaries for Scott, when he’s delving into police files he one hundred percent did not swipe from his dad, he’s got somewhere to go. No more is he confined to slogging away within the four walls of his cramped and arguably dim apartment (he likes the vibe of his scattered ritual candles, but they don’t always do the trick for him, focus-wise). When he needs a change of pace, he can head downstairs for a three-minute walk to sugar and caffeination and sunlight.

And then there’s Peter, who’s trekked here four times already for dark roast coffees he continually claims are beneath him. Either he’s full of it, or he knows Stiles is more likely to peel away from his work if Peter’s within easy walking distance as well.

Presently, Stiles’s phone chimes with a text from a contact listed as Big Bad Creeperwolf, a label he hasn’t changed since their first meeting. (Anyway, it’s still accurate.) When Stiles checks his messages, there’s a snapshot of the Cuppa Life menu and a text that just reads, Unfortunate.

Stiles stares, squinting and wondering what Peter’s point is, but he can’t work it out. He could text back, or he could grab his current working bestiary from the bed and go around the corner to figure it out.

The place really is cute. They’re clearly going for that modern chic look, with chalkboard menus, lighted glass cases full of Instagram-ready pastries, and graphic art peppered across warm, red-bricked walls. At a glance, you wouldn’t know anything’s missing at all. Stiles only feels a little guilty about nicking his latest sign, inasmuch as he ever feels guilty about nicking anything (and then, you know, returning to the scene of the crime afterward). Look, the display was probably a free one the coffee brand shipped to the cafe as an ad. And Stiles is a regular customer now, and he always tips well, so it’ll probably even out in the end.

Peter’s snagged a table toward the front, right where the late fall sunlight streams in. It’s just barely warm enough that all the windows are folded to the side—they really are a nice touch, even if Peter’s right that they’re easy to sneak through—and when he spots Stiles walking past outside, he glances up with a knowing smirk. Because of course Stiles was going to jump up to visit. Annoying, Stiles thinks, how that one look sends a coil of pleasure into his stomach every time.

“That wasn’t an invitation to drop by,” Peter drawls, typing into his laptop, when Stiles appears at his table.

“Then you shouldn’t have announced your location, babe,” Stiles counters, dumping his book. The pet name slips off his tongue without thought again: he started using it ironically a few weeks back, almost taunting, just to dig at Peter for his condescending little “sweethearts” all the time, and now…

Peter smirks at the face he’s making. “Can’t stop it, can you? Cute.”

“Shut up,” Stiles says without bite. He sinks into the opposite chair, his attention catching on the little cardboard table menu. It’s done up in red, with glittering holly leaves, to cheerily advertise the seasonal specials. “About time! Peppermint hot chocolate?”

“Didn’t you see my text? We’ve gone from pumpkin spice to peppermint season,” Peter informs him, voice dripping with disdain. “It’s all Laura’s been complaining about for days.”

“Is that why you sent it?” Stiles asks distractedly, flipping the menu to check the drinks on the back. “And—wait, what are you even talking about? Peppermint’s the best.”

It’s all the good stuff, he finds: butterscotch caramel coffees, peppermint mochas, gingerbread spice cold brews, s’mores lattes. Man, this place does not disappoint. Stiles must have accidentally done a good deed to deserve it, but hell if he knows what it was.

It’s not until he lowers the menu that he sees Peter’s dismay. Too late, he picks up on the haughty tone, which is Peter’s default whenever they parry insults or dogpile on something they mutually believe to be garbage.

“Is that a joke?” Peter demands. “Peppermint is nature’s mildest poison. Who wants to eat something whose primary flavor is ‘cold?’ The whole place reeks of it now—even you should be able to smell it with that chunk of marble you call a nose. We’re going to have to avoid every cafe in town for the next two months.”

Stiles shakes his head, amused. “Every now and then, I feel really grateful I don’t have all your wolf stuff going on. There are definite downsides to super sniffers. But you’re right about pumpkin spice, I guess—that stuff’s a travesty. RIP to Laura and all the pumpkin spice girls probably crying into their scarves as we speak.”

“You’re a witch, and fall's barely over. Are you even allowed to voice a dislike of pumpkin spice?”

“I’m a spark and you know this. And yeah, I guess they’ll probably revoke my card,” Stiles jokes.

With his stuff now scattered across the table, he heads off to the counter, deliberating over his drink choices. He ends up going with the peppermint mocha, partly because he does, in fact, really love peppermint and needs to carpe diem the fuck out of it while it’s still in season, and partly because he knows it’ll annoy Peter.

Once he grabs his order and gets back to his seat, he takes his first taste while making pointed eye contact with the werewolf. Unfortunately, Peter’s crinkled nose just makes Stiles snort into the drink, and he ends up choking on a puff of whipped cream for his trouble.

“Lovely that I’m only learning now that you enjoy drinking toothpaste,” Peter snarks. He looks almost disgusted, but he’s still wearing the delighted smirk that means he’s back in his element. “What other dealbreakers don’t I know about you?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Stiles coughs, still laughing a little. “Out of all the shit I’ve done, peppermint’s the dealbreaker?”

“I already know about the live theater thing. The—musicals.”

“What, that I’ve witnessed some without fleeing the theater?” Stiles asks, covering his grin with a sip of his drink. It really is good, with just enough peppermint to boost the chocolatey taste of the mocha without being overpowering. “I stand by Heathers, my dude. J.D. is hot. I won’t apologize for that.”

“Sickening. What else do I need to know? Do you put motivational quotes in your email signature? Do you unironically follow astrology? If you’re a secret cryptobro, you’d better tell me before this goes any further.”

Stiles snickers into his drink. “No to all of the above. But if either of us was gonna turn into some condescending asshole trying to peddle something skeevy, it’d probably be you.”

“Excuse you.”

“Speaking of dealbreakers. Met this cute guy earlier today.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Did you now.”

“You’d better watch out.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Fat. Tan.”

“Tabby?”

“Maybe, but the fur was pretty long. I took pictures. Wanna see?”

He’s grinning: it’s a bluff, of course, and they both know it. Peter just grunts. There are few things the werewolf finds more boring than pictures of small animals. He’s insane that way. Like he would honestly rather pry his own eyes out than witness a cute cat displaying its belly for scratches. Stiles doesn’t even know what to do with him sometimes.

“Keep your beaus to yourself,” Peter replies, returning to his book.

“Your loss.” Stiles pulls his laptop to him, booting it up. “By the way, did I tell you Pudding’s rash is gone? Saw her this morning.”

“If I have to hear another word about cats,” Peter sighs, “and especially a cat’s skin condition, I’ll swear to god I’ll find a way to get you banned from this cafe.”

Stiles mimes zipping his lips and gets back to work, though Peter looks at him with distrust for a full minute before he resumes reading. But while Stiles does sometimes get a perverse sense of enjoyment from Peter’s poor attempts to feign interest in his interests, he’s got shit to do today. Peter’s off the hook. For now.

Harassment has always been one of Stiles’s love languages. At least when it comes to Peter.

The feeling is clearly mutual, though. And Stiles knows Peter well enough to tell he isn’t the type of guy who’d stick around if he were actually offended.

They’ve come a long way since their first meeting, the first formal introduction of their respective packs. Back then, they were all circling each other warily, a prospective alliance built on contract negotiations and polite adherence to ceremony.

Everyone except for Peter. Peter was an immensely egotistical shit the entire time—not that he did or said anything outright insulting, anything to make the McCall pack cut their losses and back out, just things that were right on the cusp. Snarky insinuations. Snubs. He clearly thought them an insignificant pack of amateur shifters, and bitten wolves at that, a term he used with this pitying tone that suggested he wanted to turn up his nose but wouldn’t for propriety’s sake. It rubbed Scott and Isaac the wrong way right off the bat, and even Kira got sour about it. And Kira believes in peace and forgiveness and pixie dust for literally everyone.

Maybe Stiles only found it so funny because he knew how wildly wrong Peter was about them. The McCall pack, after all, is a bad enemy to underestimate and a good ally to have in your back pocket.

And then, somewhere amidst the getting-to-know-yous and the haughty diplomacy, it became clear that sure, Peter may have been sneering and abrasive, but he backed a lot of the same things Stiles championed: an aggressive defense, strong tendencies toward revenge where appropriate, doling out the harshest possible punishments against offending packs. His mean streak, in fact, aligned very neatly with Stiles’s.

For half the alliance negotiations, Stiles found himself arguing beside Peter, who looked delighted at the unexpected support, especially when it was just the two of them against ultra-forgiving alphas who indulged their reasoning but came down firmly on the side of living and letting go and other bullshit.

“Fine,” Peter had said when it was all done. All pleasant and smirking, of course, because he’s always refused to show weakness after a loss. “Well, I’m sure none of us will ever regret this.”

Talia just rolled her eyes with the exasperation of someone who’d borne this kind of barbed statement all her life. And Peter turned and gave Stiles this meaningful look, the first of many designed to invite his judgment as well, as if to say Can you believe this? You and I are the only ones who truly understand.

Stiles was a little bit in love. Even then.

After they all dispersed for friendlier conversation, Stiles sidled up to him, phone held out imperiously. “Give me your number.” At Peter’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Don’t tell me you don’t want the backup. My alpha wasn’t the only one who said the words ‘minor territory breach’ like it’s not an oxymoron.”

It was hard to disagree. And Stiles wasn’t misreading the exasperation: by the time Peter finished entering his contact info, the werewolf had already begun to complain of all the extra work he often put in just for his own peace of mind given Talia’s relaxed policies. There were no known hunters or magical threats in the area—a feat only accomplished because of strict border enforcement, thanks very much—and the Hales were diligent about maintaining alliances with several nearby packs. But you never really knew. The Hale library, Peter added, was brimming with insights on defenses and known threats for that very reason.

Stiles perked up at the magic word. “A private library, huh? So…we’re officially allies now, right? When do I see it?”

Peter’s grin turned sly.

The attraction was clear as day. Even Stiles could read it, and most people’s flirtations went right over his head. Regardless, both of them were reluctant to make a move right away, both of them aware how disastrous the fallout could get for their respective packs if things went south between them. Or at least Stiles was aware of it, and Peter—perennial schemer that he is—must have at least considered it.

But maybe it was inevitable.

On a totally normal day, Stiles showed up uninvited at Peter’s, just to annoy him into loaning out a bestiary, and then they were just—on top of each other. It was the first and only time Stiles understood what people meant when they said they had sex by accident, a phrase he used to think was a stupid excuse people used for not bothering to control their own impulses, but holy shit, it was like someone just flipped a switch: one second they were staring, and the next second Peter’s tongue was down Stiles’s throat and Stiles was so fucking turned on that he was trying to climb him like a tree about it. He could not stop, could not stop for anything, like the only way out was forward, and forward meant tasting every inch of Peter’s skin.

The sex was amazing. Stiles was fucking wrecked. And of course when they came down, they said they should probably not do it again, absolutely never, because of pack reasons. And that they probably should not even mention it to anyone.

But those turned out to be more impulses they couldn’t rein in.

They became a thing. Somehow.

God knows they still rub each other the wrong way: Stiles is and always will be an annoying little shit, and Peter keeps making condescending offers to help broaden the tiny McCall pack—the implication being, again, that they aren’t perfectly fine as they are.

But somewhere along the way, Stiles has realized that all Peter’s stupid negging and random hints about his current location might be construed—if you looked at them through your dealing-with-a-manipulative-prick lens—as indirect attempts to coax Stiles into spending time with him. They’re the efforts of someone who has never bothered to invite anyone anywhere, and isn’t any good at it, and doesn’t even know how to do it without trying to manipulate the person in question into wanting it.

And now? Well. Peter’s never been one for grand, romantic gestures—he’s allergic—but it’s turned out okay. Do they have a relationship the average onlooker would describe as “normal” or “tender” or even “level-headed”? Hell no. But Stiles feels more comfortable with Peter than he does with just about anyone, and it’s clear Peter feels the same, and that’s enough.

Even now, the silence stretching between them is warm and companionable, with Stiles’s books and notes covering more than his fair share of the little table, and one of Peter’s legs stretched out beneath it to lean against Stiles’s, and the occasional question swapped between them to punctuate the calm.

A while later, after Stiles finishes the peppermint mocha and finds his limbs stiff, he stretches and returns to the front counter. When he comes back, he’s got a plain black coffee to replace Peter’s empty cup and, because he sometimes decides to be a just and merciful boyfriend, one of the gingerbread cold brews for himself instead of the peppermint.

That’s the kind of thing you end up doing when you get a little too invested. Not that Stiles would say it aloud.

Read the rest on AO3

#steter #steter fic #warning in advance that i will be having a little too much fun with this one #this is probably where i will be outing myself as a Christmas Freak #mine

38 notes · View notes

heartinthehospital · 5 months

Text

until failure

hunting season masterlist

content: male whumpee, female whumper, big whumpee, small whumper, defiant whumpee, possessive whumper, long-term captivity, violence

“I love this view.”

Elijah doesn’t look at Lara when she speaks. The same way he doesn’t look at the blinking red light of the camera in the corner of the room or think about the audience behind it. Instead, he concentrates on the coolness of the basement floor against his palms, and the growing tension in his muscles. Sweat trickles down his temple, but he grits his teeth and lowers his head until his forehead almost touches the floor.

If he shuts his eyes, he can pretend he’s back at his dorm, trying to get in a workout before he passes out on his bed because he’s exhausted by his evening classes. He’s not here. Lara’s not here.

Except she is. He knows it because he can hear every one of her footsteps echo on the basement floor as she approaches him. It bothers Elijah that Lara doesn’t even try to speak to him again. She knows she doesn’t have to. He’ll give in first like he always does.

“What?” Elijah turns his head to glare up at her, his jaw tensed. The tremor in his voice from exertion makes him want to break his own nose.

Lara twists her face into a half-smile, half-pout. “Nothing. Like I said, I just love this view.”

Elijah bites the inside of his cheek, torn between whether or not he should stop. Finally, he looks back down at the floor, intent on ignoring Lara altogether. Strands of his dark hair stick to his damp forehead, and he briefly supports himself with one arm as he brushes them away. That is, until Lara crouches next to him and wraps her hand around his bicep.

“This is what you do when I’m not around?” Wisps of blonde hair not entwined in her two braids fall into her face as she tilts her head. The question is asked innocently enough, but Elijah knows better than to assume Lara’s playful tone means anything less than dangerous for him. “You know, you get so angry when I hurt you, but here you are, doing it yourself. You put on a good show.”

“Fuck you, bitch.”

The backhand he expects doesn’t happen.

“Like I said.” Lara lets go of his bicep with a smile. “How many of these do you think you can do? Fifty?” She glances down at him with a nod.

“How many will it take for you to leave me alone?” In his mind, Elijah tries to guess how many he has left in him. His muscles haven’t forgotten that he’s kept his form this entire conversation, but he doesn’t think Lara will understand if he explains what exercising until failure means.

“Let’s say that’s fifty.” She sits down only a foot or two away from him and glances towards the camera, amused.

There’s a split second Elijah opens his mouth to say something, but he decides against it. Instead, he tenses his jaw and lowers himself to the floor again.

With every push-up he completes, he can feel Lara’s eyes locked onto him. It’s completely silent besides his labored breathing, and Elijah gets the sense it’s not just the view she loves. The first ten are easy, and even though the next ten are slower, his form is perfect. The aching in his muscles is pain he's used to.

It’s when he gets to thirty that he falters. Elijah struggles to maintain the rigidity in his arms, and he knows he needs to rest. With every passing second he doesn’t lower himself to the floor, Lara knows too.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He knows better than that, even when his arms begin to tremble.

Lara furrows her eyebrows like she’s genuinely confused. “When did I say you could do that?” She goes so far as to look at the camera, as if the audience could agree with her.

“I’ve done more than fifty while I’ve been down here." A drop of sweat falls off his forehead and onto the tile. Willing himself to stop trembling, he shifts his weight from one arm to the other. His muscles are on fire.

“I didn’t watch all fifty.”

“Fine, then—“ Elijah lets himself give up with a grunt, dropping his body to the floor and rolling over so he stares at Lara on his back. “—don’t leave me alone. Fuck if I care.” He spits out the words with the little energy he has left before he squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his sweat-drenched face with both hands.

“Eli.” Lara’s voice barely registers. Elijah means what he said. So what he can’t get a moment alone? It’s stupid anyways, what she asked him. He’d rather take whatever beating she has in mind. Elijah opens his eyes, but Lara isn’t sitting across from him anymore.

That’s when the steel-toed boot connects with his side.

If Elijah thought the air had already been exhausted from his lungs, he was fucking wrong. He can barely scramble to his feet before Lara delivers another swift kick to his abdomen, this time with enough force to make him gag. And another, so that he stumbles onto his hands and knees, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth so he doesn’t vomit.

“You just can’t behave, can you?” Lara’s expression is almost sympathetic as she crouches down and grabs Elijah by his hair, wrenching his face towards her. He drops his hand to his side, forcing the bile down his throat.

“Not really.” He smiles weakly. “I'm a problem child. Corporal punishment doesn’t work on me. ” His voice is hoarse.

Lara’s hand releases his hair before she rises to her feet. And her steel-toed boot slams into his face.

Blood gushes from Elijah’s nose and drips down his chin, but he can’t wipe it away before she kicks him again, and he’s laid out flat on his back gasping for air. With every kick, his muscles spasm, urging him to shield himself from the next blow, but he doesn’t. This is the beating he expected, and he’ll take it like a man.

Except there’s nothing manly about the way Elijah turns his head to cough up his own blood. He doesn’t know when Lara stops, but he knows that when he presses his warm cheek to the cool tile, she doesn’t continue. Finally, he allows himself to curl up, and he grits his teeth with the effort it takes to not make a sound when he does it. Shirt plastered to his skin with sweat, Elijah uses the back of his hand to wipe away most of the blood from his face.

“All I wanted to do was watch you sweat. Not bleed.” Lara nudges his shoulder with her boot. “Eli, has nobody ever told you to choose your battles?”

“I choose all of them.” Elijah coughs, and when Lara says nothing, he thinks she might not have heard him at all.

“I can tell.” Lara brings her boot down to the side of his torso, where she gently nudges him again, and his face twists in pain. “If you didn’t argue with me, I wouldn’t have done this.” She puts her weight onto the boot. No amount of willpower could stifle the low groan that escapes Elijah’s throat. “I hope it was worth it. Twenty isn’t so bad, anyways.”

Elijah lifts his head to meet Lara’s gaze. “What?”

“You did thirty push-ups.”

The color drains from his face. “I can’t—“

“You won the argument, Eli. You got your break. Now you can finish the fifty.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear with a shrug.

“You said I couldn’t— I couldn’t take a break. I can’t do twenty push-ups like this.”

“I don’t remember saying that.” The glimmer in her eyes is unmistakable. “I asked when I said you could take a break.”

“You know what the fuck you meant.” His voice cracks.

Lara’s expression brightens when he curses. “Are you choosing another one of your battles, Eli? I know you won the last argument, but I think I might win this one.”

Somehow, Elijah’s breathing is the only sound in the room again.

Until he gets to his knees and drops his palms to the floor, trembling through the extraordinary discomfort it takes to get himself into proper form. Then, it’s the sound of Lara’s voice as he lowers his forehead to the tile one more time.

“Let me know if you need another break.”

#male whumpee #female whumper #lady whumper #big whumpee #small whumper #defiant whumpee #possessive whumper #long term captivity #whump stuff #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump writing #whump fic #whump #elijah king #lara callaway

45 notes · View notes