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rafesbabygirlx · 3 months ago

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A Lot of Time has Passed |Part 1

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: Writing this with inspiration from season 4 part 1. Rewriting plot lines. No mention of Y/N but is written in her perspective. Was inspired of Rafe’s new character arc which I love but thought I’d make it a bit more interesting and messy.

Also- you have to imagine that Maybank reader is intertwined in the previous seasons. And was involved with Rafe. She understands him more than Sofia. She is JJs half sister, takes after her mom, brunette brown eyes tanned skin.

Not really proofread

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut (fingering) tough discussions, loss of life (Ward, Big John) Rafe can get a little mean, sorry Sofia lovers.

It’s been 18 months since you returned to the island. While you’ve stayed in touch with your half-brother JJ and the rest of the Pogues, you only saw them once in a while since you had made them travel to the mainland. You relished the escape from the chaos of the Outer Banks. Although you maintained a connection with your mother, it wasn’t until you decided to move in with her that you saw her again. You never imagined you’d come back, but hearing about the Pogues’ long-overdue success and newfound wealth drew you back to celebrate.

Once you arrived, you made an effort to keep a low profile. You headed straight to the old house you and JJ used to share. You couldn’t help but feel annoyed at how much he paid for it, but the joy of being back with your little brother overshadowed that irritation. Everything felt just as it had in the past, and you slipped seamlessly into your role as their ‘older sister.’

You found yourself speaking with Sarah down by the docks, where she asked how you were doing and how things were going—just the usual small talk. Then came the question you dreaded: “Have you seen him?” You stared out at the water, trying to push thoughts of him aside while enjoying your time with the Pogues. Subconsciously, you gripped your gold necklace by its 2 charms, one a ‘V’ initial and the other a baby rattle as you replied, “No, I haven’t, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.”

You hadn’t planned to stay long, just a week or two at most, with hopes of hanging out in the Cut, grabbing some groceries, and indulging in shopping at boutiques you never go to do before. You wanted to avoid anything that might draw attention to you. Living with your mom—who was now clean and remarried—had been a breath of fresh air. She shielded you from worry, allowing you to focus on taking care of what you needed to and building a decent savings while working a stable job, free from the burdens your father had imposed.

After chatting a bit more, you hugged Sarah and rejoined the group. They were deep in conversation about a bike race happening the next day. Glancing at JJ's bike in the yard, you felt a mix of confusion and admiration for his confidence. Although you hadn’t planned to join them for obvious reasons, he managed to convince you to come along. With such a big crowd, you thought you could easily blend in and suppress the anxious flutter in your chest at the thought of running into Rafe. Confident, yet now he’s all you can think about.

————————————

The last time you saw him was when you returned home from South America. While you were glad to see him, you dreaded the conversation about his father. After leaving the group at the airport, you headed to Tannyhill. As you entered, he greeted you with a warm hug, lifting you off your feet and showering you with kisses. He set you down, his face bright with a smile, contrasting sharply with the sadness that clouded your own.

Before you set out for South America to help John B with his dad, Rafe had stopped you just before boarding the plane. He promised he’d be a better person for you and wanted you to return from the trip to him. With that, he slipped one of his silver rings onto your finger and kissed you, giving a nod that it was okay to go.

There was always a powerful connection between you two, despite the class divide and his intense disdain for Pogues. You were the exception. Everyone adored you—both Pogues and Kooks alike—especially when you worked as the favorite bartender at the Country Club. You and Rafe bonded over the absence of your mothers and the shortcomings of your fathers. It was a match made in an unlikely paradise.

Though you were never officially together, largely due to his ego, you often went out publicly. Despite JJ and the group’s disdain, you convinced them—and yourself—that it meant nothing, even though deep down, you knew it did. The same could be said for Rafe with Topper and Kelce. No matter what happened, you both struggled to fully pull away from each other. Until that night.

You led Rate to the living room of Tannyhill and gently broke the news of his father's death. The color drained from his face, and his breathing grew rapid and heavy. In an attempt to console him, you placed your hand, adorned with his ring, on his arm, but he abruptly yanked it away and stood up, clearly overwhelmed. Before you could fully explain the circumstances surrounding the tragedy, Rafe erupted in anger. "This is what happens when people get close to someone like John B! Pogues are nothing but worthless pieces of shit, I trusted you all with him!" He lashed out, placing the blame on them as if Ward's insatiable greed hadn't played a role in his decisions. It was bewildering that he believed any of us wanted his father there in the first place. This wasn't any of ours fault.

"Rafe..." you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "I don't want to hear it! I can't even look at you right now. All those things I said to you, and you let this happen?! You got my father killed?!" His voice thundered with rage, his eyes dark and wild, veins bulging in his neck.

"You really think we wanted this? John B lost his dad too, you know that?! This was NEVER supposed to happen. I'm so sorry." But Rafe didn't want to hear your apology. "Get away from me! Don't come back! I never want to see you again," he shouted, the finality of his words slicing through you. You felt the tears streaming down your face, sorrow intertwined with disbelief. How could he say this after all the loving promises he had made before leaving? You sat in stunned silence for a moment, then carefully slid the ring off your finger and placed it on the coffee table. With a heavy heart, you turned and walked out of Tannyhill. Rafe didn't even glance back; he couldn't. Deep down, he knew he didn't mean any of it, but his anger always got the best of him.

————————————

As you emerged from your thoughts, everyone decided to head inside for the night, giving JJ some much-needed rest before the race the next day. You settled into your old bed, replacing the dust-covered sheets, and despite the whirlwind of emotions flooding your mind about being back, sleep quickly overtook you. Before long, JJ was shaking you awake, urging you to hurry and get ready.

When you arrived at the racecourse, you kept your distance from the group, sticking close to Cleo to avoid any potential confrontations.

JJ understood what was going on without needing to ask, and he respected your space; having you there, after all this time, was what mattered most to him. It was a relief, allowing you to watch from afar as Rafe interacted with Topper, their tension palpable from a distance.

As the race began, excitement surged through you. Ju took the lead, but then Rafe unexpectedly tapped him, sending both of them flipping over their bikes, igniting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Once the race concluded, you made your way towards the group. Topper walked by, not being able to help gloat saying something to Sarah. He then caught your eye, a smug smile on his face, but he chose not to say anything, merely walking away while shaking his head. You refused to let it bother you; Topper's opinions meant nothing, yet you knew that this would undoubtedly reach Rafe, and you hoped to slip away before that happened-at least, that was what you hoped.

As the crowd began to thin out, you felt exposed among the remaining Pogues and Kooks. Seeking a bit of refuge, you decided to head towards the shack that stored drinks and equipment for the track, needing a breather from the charged atmosphere. Just as you turned to leave, your eyes locked with Rafe's.

Your heart raced as a heavy silence enveloped you, and for a moment, neither of you could look away. In that instant, you noticed Sofia slip her arm through his and plant a kiss on his cheek. Another dark haired, brown eyes Pogue you knew from the cut and worked with the country club. He clearly had a type. She playfully pulled his attention back to her. Seizing the chance, you quickly resumed your path to the shack, desperate to put distance between yourself and the turmoil of emotions that Rafe always seemed to ignite within you.

You stepped into the shack, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart raced with nervousness, and you weren't sure if you wanted to stay or leave. With your back to the door, you pressed one hand to your chest and the other to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing, when a low voice broke the silence.

"Hi."

You spun around to find Rafe's imposing silhouette framed in the doorway, his tall figure looming over you. "Rafe, please, just go. I don't need this. I'm here for my brother," you insisted, your voice unsteady. He chuckled, stepping further into the room, the warmth of his presence engulfing you.

"I've missed you, Maybank."

"Don't say that to me," you retorted, backing away as he moved closer. Soon, you found yourself pinned between him and the table, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light, sparkling with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. He studied you with an expression that was both longing and mischief, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before gently cupping your face.

It left you bewildered, and you instinctively tried to push him away. "A year and a half ago, you couldn't stand me, and now you're all over me. You can never make up your mind."

A smile crept across Rafe's face. "I could never hate you. I never hated you. I was angry, sure, but I took it out on you-and you never gave me a chance to apologize. You vanished, changed your number, and everyone who knew where you were would never tell me."

"Rafe, please just go," you pleaded, feeling trapped. But before you could protest further, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the table.

"I can't stay away from you. Please, let us have this moment," he murmured, his voice low and earnest. He leaned in, inhaling your familiar scent-the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with a hint of jasmine perfume. Then, without warning, he pressed soft kisses against your cheek. You let out a slight moan, unable to suppress the spark of electricity that coursed through you at his touch.

He smiled against your skin, his face inching closer to yours. Then, before you could register the moment, he pulled back slightly to gaze into your eyes once more before crashing his lips against yours. The shock of the kiss momentarily stunned you, but as the reality of what was happening sank in, you found yourself responding, moving your lips against his as if you had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hands began to explore your soft skin, gliding down your arms to intertwine his fingers with yours. You felt the familiar weight of the ring that once adorned your finger. He released your hand, gripping the nape of your neck and pulling you closer as his right hand traced down your torso. You wore a thin, cropped strapless top and a mini skirt. His fingertips teased the upper hem, grazing the tops of your breasts while he moved lower, grasping your waist as if afraid to let you go.

Both of you fought for breath, pulling away to look at each other, laughter escaping your lips. “I’ve been waiting to do this again for so long,” he admitted.

“Do you think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Sofia, the girl outside who kissed you on the cheek?” You sarcastically remind him. “Do you think she’d appreciate this? I may be many things, but I won’t be an accomplice to cheating.”

He sighed, “That means nothing to me. If anything, she’s just a distraction while you were gone. It’s always been you I’m meant to be with. I ruined it and forced myself to move on. And now you’re back.”

You bit your finger, feeling conflicted. “But—” Before you could interrogate him more, he captured your lips in another kiss, drowning out your thoughts. His hands ventured lower, teasing the hem of your skirt. Looking into your eyes for confirmation, you nodded, giving him permission to explore further. He slipped his fingers beneath your clothing, pressing against your core, and groaned as he felt your wetness.

He swirled his fingers before moving to your clit, rubbing in deep, rhythmic motions. You broke the kiss to moan, your head thrown back, exposing your neck and chest. He kissed a trail from behind your ear to the tops of your breasts, and then, with a practiced ease, slid a finger inside you.

You gasped, leaning into the crook of his neck. “That’s a good girl. You can take a little more, right?”

You whimper a soft yes, and he added a second finger, igniting a fevered kiss filled with passion and frustration. Despite your anger, desire overwhelmed you. He pumped in and out quickly, his thumb working your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your breaths quickened, and you were amazed that no one could hear your moans.

“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good. Let me make it up to you. Come for me.”

As waves of pleasure washed over you, your head spun, heart racing. With a gasp, you reached your peak, surrendering completely as he rode out your orgasm, his unoccupied hand brushing your cheek. After a few lingering pumps, he withdrew, licking his fingers clean before adjusting your panties and gazing into your eyes.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said softly. You struggled to find your voice, lost in the moment until the door slammed open, revealing JJ. Rage simmered within you at the thought of a confrontation between him and your brother, but Rafe turned to you. “We’ll talk more another time, baby.”

You smiled and nodded, but as he walked out, JJ turned to you with a look of disgust. “What the hell did he want?”

“Nothing. We were trying to talk before you interrupted,” you replied. “I didn’t know he saw me come in.”

“Are you going to talk to him about her?”

“I don’t know, J.”

---

I hope you like it. My first of many stories. I decided to break it into parts. Stretch it out over the month before part 2 of the season drops.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe smut #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x pogue #rafe imagine #rafe fic #rafe x maybank

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monster-disaster · 1 month ago

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[tentacle] Monster under the bed +1

tentacle!monster x human!Reader Good to know: smut, no plot

Previously: [tentacle] Monster under the bed - Your new house is full of surprises.

Summary: You can't help yourself, you try out the bed again.

The silence presses down on you as you hover in the doorway. Your hand is on the wooden frame, fingers trailing along its worn surface while your eyes are locked on the bed. It is a familiar sight, yet it feels different now as if the air around it carries a weight of its own. It looks just as it did a few days ago: white sheets stretched taut, invitingly soft blankets spilling over the sides, and the dark, robust frame grounding it in place. Nothing feels out of place, but you know the truth. You experienced it. And damn, you want it again.

The last several days blurred together in a haze of legal jargon and endless paperwork, but even with the constant demands of sorting through your aunt's will, the memory of your first night in her house, well, now yours, lingered in the back of your mind like a shadow you couldn't quite shake off. Though, with so much to do, you hadn't let yourself dwell on it. So, instead of settling in the upstairs bedroom, you'd chosen the couch in the living room. It wasn't exactly comfortable, you have to buy a new one as soon as possible, but it was your only option since you didn't have the time or energy to face the monster under the bed.

But this night is different. The house seems quieter now, broken only by the steady, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs, and the air feels alive, heavy with waiting and unspoken anticipation. It wraps around you like a charged current. Your stomach tightens with excitement and nervousness as your gaze remains fixed on the bed. Its crisp white sheets and soft blankets seem to glow faintly in the dim light of the room, inviting and taunting. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you pull the edge of the plush towel tighter around yourself. The fabric is soft and warm against your bare skin.

Something about the room feels different now as though it’s holding its breath along with you, waiting for you to take the next step.

"I can't believe I'm going to do this," you murmur under your breath. Your voice wavers with a mix of disbelief and determination as you take slow, deliberate steps further inside the quiet room. The towel slips from your grip, falling silently to the floor in a soft heap around your feet. You step over it without a glance, the cool air brushing against your bare skin, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

Stopping beside the bed, for a long moment, you just stand there, and then, with a quiet exhale, you climb up onto it. The mattress shifts slightly under your weight as you move, your breathing shallow as you settle on your knees. You let yourself sink into the position, your legs folding beneath you while your hands rest lightly on your thighs. The sheets feel cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the lingering heat of your body. Your eyes roam the edges of the bed, tracing its shadowed lines as the anticipation builds. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of wind outside, feels magnified as you sit there, waiting.

Your breath catches, and your heart beats faster. The tension in the room is thick enough to hold you in place.

And you don't have to wait for long.

With growing tension, you watch as the familiar dark purple tentacles begin to emerge from beneath the bed. They move, curling and twisting on the soft sheets, tracing lazy paths along the blankets. Their slick texture glimmers under the dim light of the room. You can see the ripple of muscles as they get closer and closer.

You don’t realize you are holding your breath until your lungs protest, burning with the strain. "Okay," you gasp. Your hands fidget nervously in your lap, fingers twisting together as you force yourself to remain still. "You won't hurt me," you add, though the words are more for your own benefit than anything else.

The gap between you and the tentacles continues to shrink, each second stretching longer than the last. Your muscles coil, every fiber of your being instinctively anticipating the touch, the moment they make contact. It feels like an eternity, but finally, they reach you. The first touch is almost tentative, the tips of the tentacles grazing over the smooth skin of your knees. The featherlight touch sends a shiver through your spine. Then slowly, they slide upward. Their movement is fluid as they glide over your thighs, tracing the curve of your body with a surprising gentleness. You inhale sharply, your chest rising and falling with the rhythm of your shallow, quick breaths while they wind around your waist. Their cool, slippery length leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your arms lift slightly and instinctively to give them more room to roam. Your fingers tremble as you hold yourself steady. The tension in your body is palpable, every nerve on edge as you watch their movements, your gaze fixed, unwilling to look away.

“Oh,” you sigh softly. The sound escapes you before you can stop it.

The tentacles move with intent. They explore you, curling and across your bare skin. They graze over the sensitive curves of your breasts, flicking and licking your nipples until they are hard, tender pebbles. The limbs coil around your soft flesh, kneading and groping.

You are completely absorbed in the sensation, so much so that you don’t notice the tentacles slithering up between your legs. They press forward with a delicate persistence, spreading your thighs apart in the process. The sudden rush of cold air against the damp heat of your center jolts through your body, sharp and biting. It punches an airy gasp from your heaving chest, and your hips instinctively shift, seeking more contact. The delicate press of the tip of the tentacles is a subtle reminder of just how much control you’ve lost and how much you don't care about it at all. The two limbs explore your pussy, gliding along your folds. You shudder with delight, taking a deep, sharp breath when one tip brushes over your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud over and over again.

"Oh, fuck," you groan under your breath, looking down at the tentacles stroking up and down between your legs. Even the sight is enough to take your breath away, but feeling them spreading your own wetness between your thighs is more than you can bear without moving. Your hips rock on their own accord, searching for the friction that has you moaning when you feel one tip at your entrance, prodding. Your head falls back as you feel it press inside you, your hand automatically reaches down, your fingers curling around the tendril that ripples and shifts under your touch.

The two limbs wrapped around your thighs tighten their grip, keeping you open and utterly exposed. The firmness of their hold contrasts sharply with the softer touch of the ones exploring your chest. They knead and tease your breasts, their movements deliberate and slow, drawing shivers and soft gasps from your lips. The other tendril in your pussy pushes deeper within you. Its girth stretches you, filling you with a tantalizing pressure that leaves you dizzy with arousal.

For a long, endless moment, you forget everything else, completely consumed by the overwhelming fullness. The last several days, and even the fact that you are kneeling naked on the bed to get fucked by a monster hiding under the bed somehow, all fades into the back of your mind. Your fidgeting grows more desperate, every motion sending jolts of pleasure through you, making it impossible to stay still. The tendril inside you moves with maddening precision, stroking against spots that make your vision blur. Your thoughts dissolve into a haze of heat and need. Time halts for a heartbeat, only to whirl around you when a second tendril presses against your slick, needy entrance. Its tip is unyielding yet gentle, testing the limits of what you can take. The stretch is intense, teetering on the edge of too much, yet your body responds with a rush of heat and involuntary shivers. Your hips twitch, caught in a helpless rhythm, trying to adjust to the new intrusion even as the first tendril continues its maddening exploration. They move in perfect synchronicity, each thrust and grind forcing you to confront just how far your limits can be pushed. A sharp cry rises in your throat, raw and trembling, and your toes curl. Your muscles twitch, and the burning coil in your stomach makes your spine arch. Each thrust feels deeper, more intense. Your mind swims in the haze of pleasure and surrender. And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, they adjust, angling perfectly to hit that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. Your entire body twitches, caught in the tidal wave of pleasure as the tendrils inside you find their mark again and again. Each calculated thrust sends bolts of ecstasy coursing through your veins, building a pressure deep within that demands release.

The limbs holding your thighs tremble slightly, adjusting their grip to keep you perfectly positioned, vulnerable, and utterly exposed to their relentless attention. The tendrils inside you work in tandem, their movements a perfect symphony of pleasure and teasing control. The ones stretching your soaked, trembling walls pulse gently, creating a rhythm that stokes the heat building in your core.

Above, the tendrils on your chest shift their tactics, tugging and rolling your hardened peaks between soft, textured tips. Every squeeze sends ripples of arousal straight to your pussy. Your hips buck instinctively, seeking more. Every movement pulls you deeper into their grasp.

A strangled moan escapes you. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps as the pressure inside crests higher. They sense your mounting release, the way your body quivers and clenches around them, and their pace shifts. They become faster and more insistent.

Your body tenses, your vision blurs, and the world seems to shatter as the climax crashes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and utterly spent in their grasp. Your cries echo in the space around you, raw and unrestrained. The tendrils inside you slow their movements but don’t withdraw, their presence a constant, throbbing reminder of the pleasure they’ve drawn from you.

The limbs holding you begin to loosen, though not entirely, as if reluctant to release their claim. The tendrils inside you withdraw slowly after several seconds. Their departure is just as intense as their intrusion. The emptiness they leave behind sends a pang through your body, a mix of relief and longing that leaves you unsteady. As they retreat, their lingering touches trace along your skin, leaving trails of cool, slick sensations that make your body shiver. Your limbs feel boneless, your mind hazy, lost in the aftermath of their relentless attention.

Soon, they disappear under the bed, leaving you trembling and breathless.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #teratophillia #monster fucker #terat0philliac #monster smut #tentacle x human #tentacle x reader #tentacle smut #tentacle monster #monsterfucking #tentacles #monster fucking #grimbrook

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squoxle · 3 months ago

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hi can i request angry sex with jake

[6] F*#@ ME LIKE U MAD AT ME, BABY ~ S.JY

angry!boyfriend!dom!jake x sub!girlfriend!reader

plot: after coming home from work early, your angry boyfriend Jake, takes his frustration out on you... | wc: 1.6k | cw: minor angst, rough sex, angry sex

Almost 99 percent of the time, your boyfriend was an absolute sweetheart. Caring, affectionate, and full of joy…like a ball of sunshine.

But on days when the spark in him was dampened, you saw a side of him that was completely different. It was like night and day with him. He was aggressive and animalistic.

His eyes cut through you with rage and overwhelming lust. You were his outlet, his drug, his addiction. During that 1 percent of the time he wasn’t bright and bubbly he came to you to release that built up tension…

*CRACK* You unscrewed the plastic cap on the water bottle you had just pulled from the fridge.

*GULP* You sipped the cool liquid, feeling it drip down your throat and cool your insides.

*TWIST* You closed the bottle as the coolness from the refrigerator left your feet.

You leaned against the countertop, taking in a deep breath as you stood barefoot in the kitchen, braless, wearing nothing but panties and one of Jake’s plain white t-shirts that fell down just enough to the point that your ass was barely covered.

He had left earlier than usual this morning for work and he didn’t seem too happy about that…especially since he’s already been working overtime the past couple weeks.

You didn’t expect to see him back home until later tonight, and you knew he’d most likely end up crashing the minute he stepped through the door. So you were shocked to see him walk in the door as you took another sip from your water bottle.

“Jake?” You asked as he slammed the door behind him. “Baby, are you okay?” He took in a deep breath as he gripped a handful of his dark hair, combing it back with his fingers.

You placed your topless bottle on the counter before walking over to Jake. You could tell he was upset and you knew a hug would help him calm down some. “Talk to me, baby,” you hummed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He placed his hands on your waist before pulling you closer. You feel the fiery rage exuding from his body and the sound of his heart pounding like a demon at the gates of hell. You pulled back just enough to look your boyfriend in the eye.

A mix of emotions washed over his face as he looked at you, a warm and gentle expression that contrasted with his. He leaned in to kiss you, supporting your lower back with one hand and his other hand traced your figure.

You felt his mouth open as he slipped his tongue between your lips, eager to taste you. The kiss was sloppy and sensual and that’s just when you saw him click. The rage, anger, and frustration fueled his lustful crave as his lips fell to your neck—sucking, biting, and kissing you was only the beginning and you knew it.

You stepped backward as he led you into the kitchen catching the sight of your opened water bottle on the counter top. He snatched the thin plastic bottle and crushed it in his hand as he soaked your top.

You gasped at the sudden coolness, Jake took this as a moment to shove his tongue back down your throat as the impression of your tits bled through the white tee. He grabbed your tit in his hand, squeezing it as the water puddled on the floor.

He switched back and forth between sucking your tits and kissing your lips. You groaned as he bit down your nipple sending a stinging sensation up your spine.

Desperately wanting your body more and more by the second, Jake started to tear the fabric apart, watching as your tits fell through the torn shirt. He kissed your collarbone as he slid the remains down your arms. You were cold, wet, and completely naked—aside from your panties that cling to your ass even more now after being soaked with water.

Getting a tasteful glance at your pussy peeking through your panties, Jake aggressively pressed at your beady, sensitive, clit as your jaw fell open. You moaned in his mouth as he kissed you again, breathlessly taking you in.

Your thighs squeezed together, wrapping around his fingers before he ripped them from between your legs. “I wanna fuck you right here so bad,” he hummed, pressing his throbbing hard on against your core.

“Then do it,” you panted as he sucked the flesh of your exposed tits. “Fuck me right here,” you looked him in the eye as he bit his lower lip.

He used his teeth to slide your panties down, leaving kisses up your thigh before lifting you on the counter, spreading your legs apart as he stood between them. You felt his fingers glide back and forth between your folds, your body twitching slightly at every sensation.

He traced your insides, searching for your entrance before jamming straight into your hole which grew wetter and wetter with every stroke of his fingers. You raised your legs, pointing your toes as your head sunk into your shoulders. A shaky moan escaped your lips as he ferociously fingered you.

You struggled to maintain a steady breathing pattern as pleasure consumed you. "I love hearing you moan while I play with you," he hummed as shook from his touch. You inhaled sharply as pressed his thumb against your clit while he stimulated your g-spot.

You bit down on your lip as he pulled your face to his, kissing your lips before reaching down to pull out his dick. You looked down to see his bright red, throbbing tip for a slight second before his heat met your tight entrance.

You threw your head back, wincing slightly from the sudden pain of him pushing into you. His strokes started off slow as your pussy adjusted to his length, but quickly sped up as he groaned from the feeling of your walls contracting around him.

The pressure of your cunt squeezing around him mixed with the intoxicating sound of your moans only drove him harder as he grunted while he stroked his cock in and out of you.

You squirted slightly as the friction stimulated you. You hummed as you felt your mouth watering. Your body was shaking so much at this point that your jaw chittered as weak moans escaped your lips. "Jake! Baby...I c-can't--"

"Just hold on for a little longer, baby. I know you can take it," he panted as he pumped into your throbbing cunt.

"Ngh!" you yelped as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. You tightened your grip on him, slightly squeezing his shoulders as you pulled back to look at him.

A dazed and lustful gaze covered his face as he met your lips. "Mmm, that's it, baby," he cooed as he pushed his tongue through your lips again. "Fucking you always makes me feel so much better," he hummed. "I get to look at my slutty little angel moan and cum for me," he kissed you again before pulling his dick out with a pop.

"Mmm," you moaned. "Spit on it," he spat, looking you dead in the eyes. "I wanna fuck you a little more before I cum," he continued before you obediently spit on his twitching cock. "Ugh, fuck yeah," he hummed as he pushed it back inside.

"Ngh!" you gasped as he started fucking you again, this time faster than before. He lifted your legs, gripping your thighs before pulling your lower half off the counter. You were suspended in air, bracing the upper half of your body on your elbows as your head fell back.

"Uh uh, I want you to look at me when I cum inside of you," he groaned. "Look at me, baby," he spat as you lowered your gaze. "Mmm, you look so fucking sexy when I fuck you senseless," the sound of your skin slapping against each other filled the room as he moaned deeply.

"Ahn!" you clenched your teeth together as you felt his hot load shoot up inside of you. He pushed you back onto the counter as his breathing slowed down. "Next time I'm gonna cum all over that pretty face of yours," he smiled as he kissed your neck again.

He reached his fingers down between your legs, gliding against your sensitive, sloppy, cream-filled cunt. "This'll have to do for now," he smirked as he dug his fingers into your pussy, picking up some of his cum before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your lips.

"Suck it off," he smiled as you opened your mouth. You maneuvered your tongue around his digits, cleaning off every bit as he watched you intently.

"Wah!" you gagged as he shoved his fingers deep into your mouth.

"Sorry, baby. I really wanted to see your eyes rolled to the back of your head," he smiled before kissing your cheek.

"Thanks, baby," he caressed your face before stepping back to take off his shirt.

"For what?" you asked as he pulled the shirt over your head.

"For being the best girlfriend a guy could ever ask for," you smiled as he kissed your forehead. "I'll order us some take-out...I don't think you're in shape to cook anything right now," he chuckled, lifting you off the counter.

Your body was still shaking a bit from earlier, but you managed to walk over to the couch where the two of you laid down together. You still felt the slight soreness from your pussy as you snuggled up between his legs.

𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

@chlorinecake

@wonbinisbabygurl

@nishiimuranights

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

@bangchans-gf5

@wand3rlustm3

@heeseunghee7

@norihoyeon

@gacktsa

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slimybeth69 · 1 month ago

Text

Thirst

Marcus Acacius X lady reader (no descriptions, you're a virgin though)

Summary: Your freedom had a price and Marcus Acacius was willing to pay for it... but you also had to do something for him.

Chapter 1 of 10: Warming Up Next Chapter

Rating: EXPLICIT -- Shameless smut with a little plot

a/n: NO SPOILERS to the new movie. This is cross-posted from my AO3 account

WARNINGS: dubious consent, ownership, loss of virginity, mutual mast., exhibitionism, voyeurism. Mentions of being a whore.

You had lived in a brothel before this. Had to share a bed with a woman you did not like. You didn’t even get to have sex in that brothel because you were a virgin and no one could afford it. Just your hands and mouth. Your company if they couldn’t afford your pleasure. The General could afford you though and the second you told him you were a virgin you left the brothel with him.

General Marcus Acacius still hasn’t had sex with you. He just wants you to look at him. You roll your eyes at the thought. Just watch. He didn’t even let you touch. It had been two long months and you had seen him only a dozen times. More in the beginning and now less and less. Strange. Paid all this money and won't even touch you or let you touch him.

“Your day?” His voice is deep and smooth and it’s almost like it ruminates in your chest for a moment after he is done speaking. You try to hide your giddy excitement as he comes from the doorway that leads to the balcony you’ve been sitting on.

“Fine.” It’s short and curt and you act like you are tired of being alone with only your handmaids to talk to. He sighs from behind you. This is what happens every time and you’re over it. “Would you like to just get it over with?” You stand from your seat and he’s wearing a white and gold tunic. You’ve never seen him in it before and his bronzed thighs contrast against it so well. You do not let his beautiful skin distract you as you slip past him into the room. You unclasp the shoulder straps of your dress and let it fall to your waist. You buzz with excitement.

You’re exposed from the waist up when you turn to look back at him. His strong hand is already wrapped around himself underneath the tunic. He walks to you, his fist never leaves or stops stroking himself as he makes his way to his chair. It’s already got the small glass bottle of oil sitting on the table beside it. Waiting. You use it sometimes to rub into his muscular shoulders after he has a long day.

Mostly it’s poured into his palm like he’s doing right now. When he leans back in his chair, his throbbing erection is already pushing the lower half of his tunic up, exposing himself to you. He is thick, already red with excitement and almost intimidatingly big. He could fit both fists on it. You watched him do it once with your bottom lip bitten between your teeth. He coats his cock in the oil, massaging it into his already smooth skin. You know he is smooth. You can see how smooth he is from here. Bronzed and smooth and strong. It’s evident as you watch him spread his legs wider so you can see his balls. One hand cups them gently, massaging them.

“Shit.” Marcus hisses as he squeezes his cock at the base gently as he starts to stroke. You watch, your gaze dancing between his eyes and mouth, down to his hand thrusting up and down on himself. He twists his hand around the shaft while he does it. It makes somewhere deep inside you ache. You long to go over and climb into his lap. Sink yourself down into his lap until you are flush with him.

“Does it feel good?” You ask mindlessly, watching as the tip of him begins drooling precum from his seam. You lick your bottom lip because you want to know what he tastes like. You want to show him what you can do.

“Yes.” He moans softly and when you look back up to his face he’s staring at you. You reach up and pinch one of your nipples between your thumb and forefinger and twist it gently. Then you tug. You let out a breathless moan and he drops his eyes to your hand. He bucks his hips forward and sighs. “Gorgeous.” He breathes it to you as he strokes his cock slowly. You’ve never really spoken to each other during so you keep going, to see what happens.

“Do you want to see my cunt?” You whisper and bat your eyelashes up in him with false innocence. His breath catches in his throat when you say it. It makes you smirk. He nods silently as his eyes fall to your middle. You pull the lower half of your dress up and pool it at your waist and now you have a bunch of fabric all pulled up around your middle. Marcus’ eyes dart between your pussy and your tits that you're still teasing and pulling at with your fingers.

His staggered breath is rising and falling in his chest and his fist is moving with more speed.

“Fuck.” Marcus groans quietly. The head of his cock is almost purple and his precum is now leaking down the tip of him. You lick your lips again because he does look very handsome there, stroking himself. Little beads of sweat forming on his brow as he starts to pant softly. You run your hand down the length of your body for him, you never do this. Usually you just stand there because the first time you tried to touch him and he said no. Gave you no further instruction so you stood here after that. That white tunic and this soft bronze skin over those thighs… you dunno. Very handsome. It’s making you drenched

“You could come touch me right here.” You purr to him quietly.

The muscles in his thighs flex when you slip two fingers into your folds. You don’t even rub, you just show him that you can in fact be touched and will not combust into flames. Marcus could do more than just look at you while he touches himself. You do let your mouth part and your jaw drop down slightly in feign pleasure– letting him know what you look like when you feel good. Marcus’ eyes flash between your face and the fingers pushed into your velvet.

“Gods.” He sighs as his calloused and battle-scarred hand moves up and down on himself quickly.

“Imagine yourself buried inside me. For the first time.” You coo to him as your fingers start to encircle your bundle of nerves that sit nestled at the top of your slit. “The first man to ever me inside me… the first man to ever fill me with his—”

“Fuuck. My G-Gods.” Marcus moans loudly as he brings himself to climax. He finishes all over the front of his nice, white and gold tunic. Splatters it with white ropes of his sticky seed. Several thick ropes of it.

Your hand drops from between your legs and you snap your dress back up over your shoulders. You sit back in your chair on the balcony and sip your wine like you are bored. Marcus can leave now. He doesn’t do anything else for you other than this thrilling encounter every couple days. Thrilling while it happens but then he leaves.

He clears his throat from the doorway. You ignore him. Does he think you are one of his soldiers? No. You are a woman and women deserve more than just being stared at. You should be ravaged and you haven’t been so you’re frustrated. Only able to give yourself pleasure after he leaves. To ease the monotony of it all you’ve started pleasuring yourself out here on the balcony where anyone could see if they just looked up.

You do not tell him this.

Marcus clears his throat again.

“What?” You have obvious annoyance in your tone. “If you’d like to speak to me you can come out here. I am done doing things for you today. Including getting off this chair again.” You snap angrily.

Marcus approaches from behind you and now he’s sitting beside you on a chair that looks exactly the same as the one you are in. He is in a different tunic now. A plain brown one and now he looks terrible and horrible to you again. Barely attractive. Maybe he’s still a little handsome.

“Did you enjoy yourself this time?” Marcus sounds curious.

“Sure.” You mutter. You don’t catch his eyes that are obviously staring at you.

“I thought you were warming up this evening. Then you do this?” He sounds slightly disappointed. You roll your eyes and huff softly.

“You keep me up here. Only let me go out early in the mornings when not one or very few people are out—” You like this but you won’t let him know that. “You don’t come see me everyday like you said you would. You do not touch me. Just want to watch, which is so weird! I thought you took me from that brothel so that you could deflower me. Do the thing that everyone loves to do so much. No, you just want to tease me with your beautiful cock every four to seven days.” You cross your arms over your chest and huff one more time for good measure.

Marcus chuckles at you, still staring. You can see him boring holes into the side of your head out of the corner of your eye. He is smiling but still staring.

“Why is that funny?” You snap, finally turning to look at him now. Marcus Acacius is quite handsome with his messy mop of dark, loose curls. Thick dark eyebrows and facial hair to match. Only on his cheeks is it lighter, graying. Strong features. The weight he held, he carried it nicely. Filled his cheeks out softly and thigh muscles for days. Strong arms and shoulders.

“I paid because you are beautiful. I’ll deflower you. Soon. When you’re ready.” His voice is quite nice too. He leans forward and presses his lips against yours gently. He’s never kissed you before. It’s so nice and he smells like the scented oil he spread around his cock earlier. Before you can really react to the kiss he pulls away slightly and hovers above you. “I’ll deflower you when you really like me. Not just because I paid.” Then he pecks your lips again. You're in awe! What does that mean!? You stand and try to follow him. He is too fast. He slips out of the door and locks it behind him.

You hmph and stomp your foot angrily.

Like him? How could you ever— Oh.

There is the nicest most beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table that had not been there before you did your little tease for him. They are gorgeous. All different shades of white and pink and reds. It’s the biggest bouquet of flowers you have ever seen. Alongside it– a fresh unopened jug of wine. And a note.

Save the wine for us.

Us? Does he expect you to leave this jug of delicious wine unopened until you see him again? In four to seven days? You love wine. It’s the only thing that brings you joy. Seeing his cock has been pretty joyful lately. Makes you smile when he comes. You normally hate when men come.

Ugh. Doesn’t fuck you. Gives you wine but tells you not to drink it. You drop the note on the table and turn… on the bed is a new dress. A nice one. White and gold like his tunic before he mucked it with his release. You smirk at the memory from less than ten minutes ago.

What is he up to? He is not an unkind man, very polite and respectful. One of the reasons you haven’t tried to escape. He is very sweet to you. Looking at you very fondly. You’re just a brat because you thought you’d no longer be a virgin at this point. You sigh heavily and sit on the soft bed next to the dress and run your fingers along the gold embellishments.

You want to get fucked wearing this tunic.

Hours go by. It is late into the evening. You might be wearing your new dress, sitting on the balcony drinking the jug of wine you already had. Not the new one. You might have tried to open the new one but you could not remove the Gods forsaken cork. Your head is buzzing in the best way. The streets are alive with people and in your slightly intoxicated state you imagine yourself down there with them. You are glad you’re not down there. You grew up in the countryside, the large city of Rome scares you.

You lie to Marcus Acacius and say you are locked away and would like to go down there. No. You do not wish for that. You feel safe up here on your balcony with your books and wine and food. New dresses now too, apparently.

“Do you like your gifts?” Marcus’ voice drifts through the air. He sounds happy to be here. Like he might have a smile on his face.

“I did. Thank you.” You are not short or cold. You turn your head and smile at him over your shoulder. He is already smiling softly back at you– his gaze floats down your face and neck and across your new dress. He then leans against the door frame. “Admittedly I wasn’t going to wait for you to drink the wine… I just could not get it open.” You smirk now and look up at him through your lashes.

“I tightened it.” Marcus smirks back at you. He pushes himself off the door frame, turns and grabs the jug of wine. When he sits down, he slides his chair closer to yours and pops the cork right out of the jug. You tried several times over the hours after he left. You roll your eyes as he pours you a fresh goblet and then he pours one for himself.

The General never shares wine with you on the balcony.

“How do you ever expect me to grow to like you when you are never around? You’ve never even done this with me before.” Your eyes scan his handsome face curiously. His tongue flicks out across his bottom lip quickly before he speaks.

“I wanted someone untouched.” He shrugs. Not an uncommon wish for men. “You seemed eager to want to come with me.” He leans back in his chair and sets his elbows on the armrests. “Then you don’t speak. You do not participate when I want you to watch. Just drop your dress and let me look.” Marcus relaxes, every part of him does and it happens visibly in front of you.

“You paid. What does that matter?” You squint your eyes at him with suspicion growing heavy in your buzzing brain. Marcus laughs heartily and smiles down at the goblet of wine in his hand.

“I never wanted to touch you unless you wanted me to. Not just because you were a purchase.” His eyes flick up to yours as he waits for your response.

“Money for sex is so common. There are houses and buildings solely for that purpose! That is where we met!” You are confused, had a little too much wine and are kind of horny. “I came with you willingly.” You're blinking at Marcus. He is smirking at you like you are bringing him some kind of entertainment. “Why are you so hesitant?”

“Do you not care that it may hurt? Or that is considered special to some?” He sounds curious now as to why you would just give it away so freely.

“I do not care about pain. I hear that it feels very good after some slight discomfort.” You look at him down your nose and huff. “Treating me like I am fragile and will break.” Another huff and you look away from him. You make Marcus laugh again.

“So eager to get fucked. You’ve really never been with a man or woman?” Now he sounds like he doesn’t believe you.

“No. I have not, but that shouldn’t change anything.” You snap at him. General Marcus Acacius smiles at you when you snap at him.

“Would you bed men and women with me once I deflower you?” He tilts his head to the side. “I like to take multiple people to bed sometimes.” He seems curious to know your answer, he leans forwards in his chair.

“I have heard of orgies, yes. I don’t see why not—” He cuts you off.

“Not an orgy.” He says it firmly “I’d share you with another man. Watch as he fucks you. Us men, would fuck you together. You’ll watch me fuck him. We could share him. Let him enter you while I enter him. Would you like that? Or do you want to lick cunt while I fuck you?” He speaks so casually. So calmly like you’re not vibrating in your chair. “Watch me fuck her, while she licks your beautiful slit?” He leans back in his chair as if he is going to give you a moment to think about it. What is he asking of you? To be his paid and cared for personal whore?

“I would.” You lean back in your chair and cross one leg over the other while you look at him. “I’d do more, too.” You don’t even really know what you are talking about. He brings up the most extremes and the most you have done is suck a couple of cocks at the same time. Big deal.

“Like?” Marcus’ eyebrows dance up once and then fall back down quickly. Okay dammit, you don’t know.

“You could tie me up.” You mimic his little eyebrow dance he did and shrug one shoulder at him. Like you're so seasoned in that. You just saw it happen to someone else once! The General likes this though.

“I have my own restraints. And a whip if you want to be bad.” He smiles and sips from his wine goblet. You might be a little over your head but you do not care because you want this man to take your stupid flower so bad. Whether he paid for it or not. He can have it. “What?” His eyes are so dark. So intense as he asks you this.

“What?” You snap at him. “What do you mean, what?” You snap again. He snickers under his breath and drops his gaze to his lap.

“You were staring at me, little Dove.”

Next Chapter

#marcus acacius #fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal fanfiction #general marcus acacius #gladiator ii fanfiction

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bread-crum206 · 6 days ago

Text

A Game of Hearts

Chapter five: A Dance of Silence

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13

The days that followed were quieter than usual, and you weren’t sure if that made things better or worse. The silence between you had become a language of its own, one you both spoke fluently. When you passed him in the hall, neither of you said a word. When he sat at the table for his rare meals, you kept your distance.

But somehow, despite the space between you, there was an unspoken understanding that things weren’t as they seemed. He wasn’t the cold, unfeeling man you’d pegged him for in the beginning. And you… you weren’t sure who you were anymore.

It was on the third night after that strange, almost tender exchange by the window when you found yourself standing at the end of the hallway, your hand hovering over the doorknob to his office. You didn’t know why you were here, why you were so drawn to the quiet, dimly lit space beyond. Maybe it was the soft music playing or the glow of the fireplace seeping beneath the door.

The door clicked open with a soft sound, and you stepped inside before you could second-guess yourself.

The room was as cold and sterile as ever, lit only by the faint glow of the fireplace. The warmth that filled the space was comforting, a strange contrast to the otherwise lifeless atmosphere. It was organized, too organized, nothing out of place. But it was the desk in the center of the room that caught your eye. Papers scattered haphazardly across the surface, as though someone had been interrupted in the middle of something important.

You reached for the papers, your curiosity getting the best of you, when a soft cough startled you.

You spun around, your heart leaping into your throat, to find the Frontman standing in the doorway, his mask already in his hand. He hadn’t made a sound as he approached, and for a moment, you saw something almost… human in his eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

You quickly set the papers down, feeling the sharp sting of guilt. “I-”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone low, but there was an unmistakable edge to it that you hadn’t heard before.

For a long time, neither of you moved. It was as though the world outside the room didn’t exist. Just the two of you, standing in the dim light, caught in a fragile moment of raw vulnerability.

“Why do you keep pushing me away?” you asked before you could stop yourself. The question slipped out unbidden, but the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how long you’d been holding them in.

His expression didn’t shift for a moment. He just stared at you, as though weighing your words carefully. Then, finally, he exhaled and answered, “Because I don’t know how to do this.”

“And you think I do?” you asked, genuine curiosity bleeding into your voice.

His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his neck tightening as if he was trying to hold back something, something he wasn’t ready to release. Then he moved across the room, to the black leather couch at the far side.

He sat down, taking a glass of whisky from the small bar by the wall, his movements deliberate, almost mechanical. You stood frozen in place, unsure of whether to follow him or not. Finally, he looked back over his shoulder, locking eyes with you.

“Sit,” he said, his voice almost gentle, yet commanding in its own way.

You hesitated for a moment, but something in his gaze tugged at you. You walked over, sat down beside him on the couch, the distance between you still palpable but shrinking.

He took a sip of his drink, eyes fixed ahead, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his maskless face. It was always a strange thing—seeing him without his mask, even if only for a moment. His face was unremarkable in its sharpness, but there was something in the way his brow furrowed, something raw in his expression that made you feel exposed.

The silence stretched on, and it was becoming increasingly unbearable. You shifted on the couch, trying to find the right words. But he beat you to it.

“You want to know why I push you away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure how to phrase the question anymore.

He glanced at you briefly, his eyes tired. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with someone like you.”

Your brow furrowed at the words, your pulse quickening in confusion. “Someone like me?”

He sighed, a short, bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Someone who doesn’t fit into all of this,” he motioned around the room vaguely, as if referring to the whole situation, the compound, the games, everything. “You don’t belong here. And I don’t know how to make you understand that.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you. You felt your chest tighten, but you refused to look away. “Then why don’t you let me go?”

He turned to you, his gaze sharp, and for a moment, it was as though he was considering it. But then he exhaled, setting his glass down on the side table with a soft clink.

“Because I can’t,” he said quietly.

The vulnerability in his voice shocked you. There was something so honest in those few words that it left you breathless.

“So we’re both stuck,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“Seems that way,” he replied. There was a pause, and then he added, “I never asked for any of this either.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, something unexpected rising in your chest. “You never did, did you?” You leaned back slightly, your gaze flickering to the fire. “You think I wanted to be here, in this place, with you? I didn’t ask for it either.”

His gaze softened, just for a moment, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as though the walls between you were beginning to crack. But before you could say anything else, he stood, the moment lost as quickly as it had come.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his tone shifting back to the detached coldness you were becoming all too familiar with.

You nodded, trying to ignore the disappointment that surged in your chest. He wasn’t ready. Neither of you were.

As he walked toward the door, you called out quietly, “You don’t have to push me away, you know.”

He paused, just for a beat, but didn’t turn around. “I’m not sure I know any other way,” he said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

With that, the door closed behind him, and you were left sitting alone in the quiet of the room, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

———————

Chapter 5!! Yippee!

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bokunoheros · 3 months ago

Text

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (they do wear a dress and lingerie tho), reader and shouto are married, reader was in 1-A, pro hero shouto, everyone is 27+, alcohol consumption (shouto’s drunk), mentions of smoking a blunt (reader’s high), sex in a classroom, idfk GENRE: smut bruh SUMMARY: when you suggest doing it in public briefly and in passing to your husband, you were not expecting him to take you up on that offer at your fucking high school reunion!? WORD COUNT: 1.9K 🦊’s A/N: okay. so. this was originally supposed to be for iida, but since FORDULA couldn’t do day 18 like they were meant to… i wrote it for shouto instead bc im not writing for tenya sorry yall // also i wrote most of this the day before it was due after waking up at 5am so uhm 👍 god help me

the very last thing you were expecting from your husband would be the idea of him enjoying semi-public sex—it made sense how one would arrive to this conclusion, seeing as how he’s such a reserved person and all. you don’t even remember when it was that you brought it up—it must have just been a comment in passing; not that shouto missed it, of course. and then the suggestion got him thinking…. like seriously considering it. the more he thought about it, the more arousing it became to him, until it was a borderline fantasy: him fucking you somewhere you could easily be caught at with a large hand covering your mouth to make sure no one could overhear your desperate little noises. fuck.

now he finds himself at his ten year high school reunion, all dressed up with a raging erection that he was trying to hide by sitting at one of the tables there, grateful for the fabric draped over them, as he drinks and drinks to calm his nerves. thank god you volunteered to drive back home tonight. you don’t know what possessed you, but you didn’t feel like getting slizzard tonight—a stark contrast to your husband, who was trying to drink his boner away. (without much luck, mind you.)

when you come back over from the dancefloor to check in on your husband, however, he’s quick to excuse himself from the table he’d been seated at all night and drag you off to an empty classroom.

“shouto? ‘s something wrong?” you ask, looking up at him.

“no—i just—” how does he put this? “really wanna fuck you,” is what comes out of his drunken lips, his brain to mouth filter having shut off for the night. (was it really there to begin with though..?)

“oh!” you squeak as your cheeks flush at his words and he backs you up against the door. “h–here?” you’re at a loss for words entirely while shouto places both large, calloused hands on your hips as he begins to press sloppy, drunken kisses along your neck. “sh–shouto!”

“mmh?” he hums, not pausing in his actions—he doubles down, actually, by nipping at the tender flesh of your throat, the hands on your hips sliding down your thighs, down to the hem of the disgustingly skimpy dress you had decided to wear tonight—the reason for his raging erection all night—where they sneak up under it and back of to your hips so he could feel your bare flesh, quirk activating enough for you to feel an extreme difference in temperatures, but not ruin the fabric of your dress from the inside out.

“we—we can’t do that here; someone’s gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long!” you weakly protest, words holding no real weight. because if you were being one hundred percent honest, you wanted this just as much as he did, even without any alcohol in your system! (you had smoked a blunt and hotboxed the shit out of your car after arriving at the prestigious school, though, as you refused to be sober for an event such as this.)

“oh yeah? like who?” he counters, beginning to suck at your neck, not lingering on any one spot.

“a–ashido, probably! i— i just got done dancing with her—”

“i know, ‘ve been watchin’ you all night,” he slurs. “so you’re just taking a break—maybe you went to the bathroom, that’s not her business.” his hips press into yours, and you whine at the feeling of his hardened cock pressing against your crotch.

“god—you’re so full of shit,” you tell him, burying one hand in his two toned hair while the other settles on a sturdy shoulder, and todoroki can’t help but smile at your words.

“so?” you can feel him grinning against your neck, like a drunken fool in love (which is exactly what he was, by the way).

you’re out of comebacks and excuses as to why he shouldn’t fuck you right here, right now, so instead of trying to argue against hip, you tug at his hair so he’ll look at you before leaning in to press a kiss to his plump lips.

he tasted like the sake he’d been sipping on all night as he watched you with that intense gaze of his—something he inherited from his father, like it or not—and he hums in a pleased manner as he grips your hips tighter.

“how much have you had to drink tonight, baby?” you ask once you reluctantly pull away from the kiss—a question shouto chooses to ignore.

he’d had maybe three and a half red solo cups worth of sake in his system, which was enough for his inhibitions of being caught melt away. he almost hopes you two do get caught (by an old classmate at least) just so he can wordlessly flex that he was the one with the smoking hot spouse and not them.

so, with your minimal resistance and shouto’s horny persistence, it’s not long until he’s got his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and is tugging them down your thighs, asking you to step out of them so can keep them in his pocket (for the rest of the reunion).

“hhnng—,” you whine as two of shouto’s icy fingers move to play with your clit, and a chill runs down your spine at the feeling. “sho—” you’re cut off by a kiss as your husband slots his lips over yours, teeth clacking slightly as he kisses you sloppily and hungrily. it wasn’t unusual for shouto’s to be a bit of a sloppy kisser (as it turns out, he’s a really big fan of swapping spit), but generally he was more put together than he was right now—it’s like he was trying to eat you whole as his tongue easily slid into your already open mouth.

you, ever the tease, quickly get with the program and arch your back, pressing your chest against his, and start sucking on his almost burning tongue—something that catches him only slightly off guard. he’s fast with his response though, left hand moving to squeeze your ass, heating up enough to leave a faint burning handprint.

“fuck!” you squeal at the searing touch and accidentally bite shouto’s tongue in the process.

he pulls away with a hiss but no real disdain before the same hand that had left a print on your butt comes up to cover your mouth. sure, the music in the gym was awfully loud, but there could still be some other people in the hallway—maybe people who actually had to use the bathroom. it doesn’t matter. what matters is that shouto gets to fuck you, and—an idea comes to mind that only his drunk, secretly perverted brain could think of.

“shhh,” he shushes you, pulling his hand away from your mouth in order to undo his belt buckle and unbutton his nice dress pants.

biting your lip, you nod as he tugs the slacks and his boxers down to about half way down his thick thighs, letting his painfully hard cock spring free and slap against his lower stomach. you can’t help but bite your bottom lip at the sight, and you go to sink to your knees to suck him off before he’s tugging you back up by the hair.

“no,” he pants, taking his dick in one hand as he plants the other back on your hip. “need t’fuck you—please, angel, i— it hurts,” he whines, lining his throbbing length up with your already wet slit.

“yeah? okay, fuck—go ahead, baby,” you give him permission to actually insert himself, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your tight heat finally engulfing him. jesus! he had waited all night for this, and it was so worth it.

“hnngh—shit,” he whimpers, the hand that was previously holding his dick moving to play with your puffy clit as he pushes into you slowly at first before bottoming out all at once. fuck!

your breath hitches in your throat and you can’t help but moan shouto’s name while tugging at his hair as he kisses you sloppy style once more.

with how drunk and horny he was, it doesn’t take long for your husband to approach his climax, and with the way he was toying with your sensitive button, you’re quickly being worked up to one too, until—

knockknockknock!

“hello..? i thought i heard someone groan, are you okay in there?” the voice is familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on who it was. (it was hagakure, by the way.)

shouto freezes in all his actions and looks at you with half lidded eyes and a knowing smirk, cheeks flushed as he tries to quieten his breathing. your hips involuntarily roll down against the fingers still pressed against your clit, and you accidentally let out a quiet moan before covering your mouth with both hands, face burning with shame and arousal.

“all fine in here, thanks,” shouto’s able to get out, though his voice is strained. “just— ….reminiscing!” he lies, as if he wasn’t balls deep in you right now.

“ooh! fun! can i join?” the door handle jiggles, and shouto’s hand flys out to freeze the door shut. “—huh? hey, what’s with the door?”

“it’s—uhm, it’s personal memories,” he follows up, dick twitching inside you. fuck, how was he meant to last like this?

you almost giggle at his lame ass excuse and over the top reaction, until you remember that over the top reaction is the exact reason tooru hadn’t just seen you both in such a compromising position.

“we’ll be—done soon!” you call out, and at the sound of your voice and insistence on her not coming in, the invisible woman gets the message before saying oh! okay! and finally walking off.

“that was— that was close, wasn’t it?” shouto pants, starting to move his hips again as his fingers resume their circular motions against your clit.

“yeah, i could really feel how excited you were,” you chuckle, to which shouto huffs and picks up his pace. “nngh–!” you moan softly, as you both finally get a chance to cum.

your husband's dick twitches sporadically deep inside you before hot, sticky cum spills out of it and into you as your pussy spasms and flutters around him, milking shouto for everything he was worth and then some.

slowly pulling out of you, he plants a kiss to your spit-soaked lips before pulling his pants back up and redoing his belt and melting away the ice he had created not too long ago as you tug the hem of your dress down, and—hey! that panty thief!

“shouto…. aren’t you forgetting something?” you try to remind him, cringing at the feeling of his cum starting to leak out of your wet cunt and trickle down your thigh.

“mmh,” his brows scrunch in thought, as if he’s actually thinking. “no? i don’t think so?” he moves to grab the door handle, but you bat his hand away and tug at his wrist.

“my…. my panties?” you say, trying to squeeze your thighs together to prevent any more cum from dripping out, but to no avail.

“oh! right—” he goes to take them out of his pocket before he pauses and a smirk tugs at his pouty lips. “you can have them back when we get home,” he tells you, opening the door and starting to walk out. “now come on, the others are going to get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”

goddamn him!

return to KINKTOBER | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

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marcsburnerphone · 1 year ago

Text

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6

—————-

You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.

You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note.

Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John

(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick

You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.

Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.

————-

1 month in

You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you.

You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.

————-

2 months in

No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend.

However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.

Also you bought a new rug.

————-

3 months in

You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways.

You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it.

Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again.

————

4 months in

The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do.

You should've stayed up the night John left.

————

5 months in

Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut? Fuck it, yes.

So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No.

———

6 months in

John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick.

You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that.

———-

7 months in

At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin.

You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter.

You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.

You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do.

“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing.

“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.

You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer.

“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.

“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh.

“Better?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch.

“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.

“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.

“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.

“Who?”

“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“He’s perfectly fine.”

“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.”

“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.”

“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.”

“I know.”

You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.

————-

When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room.

“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.

“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.

“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.

“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..

“If you’d like.”

“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.

You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.

“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk.

“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.

“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.

“Yeah so?” You smile.

“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.

“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner.

“Can I do your beard and mustache?”

“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says.

So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.

“All done.” You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.

“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away.

“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.

It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated.

The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.

—————

The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.

“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots.

“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.

“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.

“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.

How had he missed this all along?

“Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.

“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.

“Yeah.”

You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.

“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you.

You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.

“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs.

“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push.

“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it.

“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door.

“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.

“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.

“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain.

He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.

“Never been better.”

He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car.

“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one.

“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”

“I’ll fall regardless.”

“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.

“What?” You laugh.

“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”

“What if we both fall?”

“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.

“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.

“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in.

“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true.

You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.

“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.

“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.

“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor.

He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.

“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.

“When I’m out, martinis.”

“Espresso?”

“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.

“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.

You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again.

“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.

“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.

“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.

“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.”

“Your fears are true.”

“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?

“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.

“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.

“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.

You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.

“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?”

“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.

“That’s just not right.”

“No?”

“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.

“What about you, why no boyfriends?”

“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.

“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.

“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.

Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.

“John?”

“Yeah doll.”

“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced.

“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.

“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?”

“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.

He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side.

The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park.

“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.

“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.

“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm

“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air.

“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath.

“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.

—————

I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.

comments and reposts are greatly appreciated:)

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @spyderdoll @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppixie @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe

#angst #captain price x female reader #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley

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uncharismatic-fauna · 11 months ago

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The Palestine Sunbird Persists

The Palestine sunbird, also known as the orange-tufted sunbird (Cinnyris osea) is the national bird of Palestine, and often seen as a symbol of resistance and hope. This species occurs in dry climates, particularly desert, scrubland, and savannahs, but can also be found in orchards and gardens where flowers are abundant. In addition to the Levant, C. osea occurs throughout the southwest cost of Saudia Arabia and the coasts of Yemen and Oman in the south.

C. osea is a small bird, 8 to 12 cm (3.1-4.7 in) long with a wingspan of only 14 to 16 cm (5.5-6.2 in). Males weigh on average 7.6 g (0.26 oz) and females are slightly smaller, at about 6.8 g (0.24 oz). Males are quite easy to identify due to their striking plumage; their feathers are iridescent, appearing dark until they shimmer glossy blue or green, with orange tufts at the side of the breast. In contrast females are fairly drab; grey-brown with a lighter underside. The beaks of the Palestine sunbird are also noted for their distinctively long and curved, which they have developed to efficiently feed on nectar.

Although not directly part of the hummingbird family, the Palestine sunbird shares many similarities with the group. Its diet consists of nectar, and is supplemented with insects. Their tongues are long, and brush-like, and the shape of their beak allows them to reach down to the base of the flower. For flowers that are , they will use their sharp beaks to pierce the side and access the nectar directly. All this is done at very high speeds, but unlike hummingbirds the Palestine sunbird cannot hover in place, and must land in order to feed. Because of their primary reliance on nectar, the orange-tufted sunbird is an important pollinator in its native region. Adults are rarely predated upon, but eggs and young are often targets for lizards, snakes, and birds of prey.

Reproduction begins in June, and continues through October. Males establish and defend territories, and court females by singing to attract a potential mate, then chasing her until she perches to signal her acceptance. Following the pairing, the two construct a purse-like nest, sometimes with a porch-like structure, that hangs from a branch. In this nest, 1-2 eggs are laid, and are incubated primarily by the female, while the male provides her food. The eggs take 13 to 14 days to hatch, and chicks are taken care of by both parents for an additional 14 to 21 days. Individuals can live up to 5 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The Palestine sunbird has a large range and population, and is thus considered Least Concern by the IUCN. Its primary threat is habitat loss due to agriculture and urban development.

If you send me proof that you’ve made a donation to UNRWA or another organization benefiting Palestinians, I’ll make art of any animal of your choosing.

Remember, the donation can be in any amount– every dollar counts!

Photos

Jorrit Vlot

Dula Alhashimi

Rana Hijawi

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wildestdreamsblog · 6 months ago

Text

Might as well be drunk in love: 2 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Let the darkness begin.

GIF by sugajimin

Part 1

Tuesday Night, Day 1

Kim Namjoon opened the door, his dimples on display as he welcomed you in the mansion for the second time that night as though he was already expecting you. He looked warm and comfortable, donning out simple white shirt and grey sweatpants instead of his usual formal clothes. A damp towel hanged on his broad shoulders; his hair still wet from the shower he obviously took.

“Welcome home, little one,” he greeted lowly, pulling your reluctant form in. If he felt the way you dug your heels on the ground, he didn’t mention. He was just elated that you were here now. He couldn’t explain the excruciating pain that went through his body almost more than an hour after he dropped you off. He was only able to manage it when Hoseok messaged him, letting him know that you would be coming home with him, and only then did he feel the pain subsided.

For the second time, you stepped foot in the grandiose place of theirs. It was a strange juxtaposition, your cautious movements against Namjoon's determined pull. Funnily, you thought it was similar to the depiction of Lucifer dragging Persephone down to hell. Walking behind you was the intimidating man, Jung Hoseok. He was carrying your bags in his hand in a relaxed manner, opposite to how he was before. The amount of clothes he personally packed were staggeringly ridiculous. It was like he packed your whole belongings with the intention for you to never set foot in your own apartment again. In his other hand was your traitor of a cat that was purring as the man carried him in his arms. It was like your cat left you for a better life.

"You must have been exhausted," Namjoon's voice broke through the quiet, drawing your attention to his warm smile. His concern softened the edges of your weariness. “The day is too long for any of us. You should get your rest.”

You eyed Hoseok, unsure of how to act when he offered you a reassuring smile. “We readied your room, little one," Hoseok's voice was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to his prior demeanor. Namjoon bade you good night, his large hand cupping your cheek tenderly before letting you go. With a beckoning gesture, Hoseok motioned for you to follow him, and you fell into step beside him, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders.

He opened the room to the far end of the right wing. Similar to the aesthetic of the house, the room was equally grandiose. The bed, positioned prominently in the center of the room, commanded attention with its regal presence. It was fit for a princess, you thought, with its lavish canopy and layers of plush bedding inviting you to sink into its embrace. Every detail spoke of luxury and refinement, from the gilded accents to the soft, muted colors that suffused the room with an air of tranquility.

Any other time you would have gushed over the beauty of this room, but not this time. And not with the stress that that love potion brought you! On top of that, you were in a strange place with your CEOs who were practically strangers up at this moment! It was more than understandable that you were acting wary of these two men. They were only two of the seven, and you were already displaced by them! What more if the remaining five were to face you now?

You looked over your lashes at the man who was putting your bags down in front of what looked like a huge walk-in closet, his face void of any negative emotions but the people pleaser and the anxious child in you made you voiced out what you were thinking.

“Are you mad at me?”

Your cat, on the other hand, was now roaming freely and inspecting his new home with a purr, uncaring of the stress that you were feeling. You knew that traitor had such an expensive taste that your cat would literally sell you for a piece of chicken. You couldn’t help but notice the amount of cat toys that were kept in the corner of the room, prompting you to think that this wasn’t a spur of the moment kind of thing.

Hoseok blinked owlishly as though you asked an utterly absurd question, one that would never happen. His brows furrowed before he offered you a reassuring smile. “What brought this on?”

You sighed dramatically before plopping down on a surprisingly soft and comfortable mattress. You were even unknowingly pouting, making him want to squish your adorable cheeks in between his hands and cooed down at you. “Well, because I may or may not have ruined your lives because of that drink. But in my defense, which I think is a very good and plausible one and it may actually stand in court, it was never my intention to make you ‘fall in love’ with me and that drink was only gifted to me! Don’t you think I should be given a less harsh punishment?”

“Punishment?” Hoseok repeated to himself, his head tilted to the side as he pondered the notion. Was living with them meant to be some sort of a punishment when this was a big house and you had seven men to cater to your every whim? They would literally give you the world should you asked. “No, honey. Listen, I’m not mad at you. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“I’m mad at you?” you asked with a hint of humor in your voice before flashing him a grin of your own. You were too adorable and funny, he gushed as he kneeled in front of you. Slowly as though gauging your reaction, he held your hands in between his, running his thumb in a soothing manner when you didn’t pull away. Hoseok couldn’t help but smile widely when he held you. It was such an exhilarating rush, he observed, one that he had never felt before.

In fact, it was an addicting feeling…one that he could not bear to lose.

“We’re not mad,” he began, his voice earnest as he looked up at you from his kneeled form on the carpeted floor. He never knelt for anyone, but for you, he would without any questions asked. “None of us are mad. This is merely a…unique conundrum. But we’ll figure it out. We always do. So don’t worry, okay?

We will take care of it.”

It was well after midnight when the five equally annoyed men strutted inside the mansion. Their faces were painted with discontent, their eyes carrying a certain weight of physical exhaustion and their movements that of strain from being physically away from you.

They were, in fact, practically gritting their teeth from the discomfort and pain.

Kim Seokjin was the first to stride into the room, the heavy oak double-doors slamming against their hinges so forcefully that even Namjoon grew concerned. He meant, for heaven’s sake, he had it custom-ordered from his favorite artist that specialized in wood carving! Anyway, it was a rare sight to see him display any negative emotion as he was always the brother that brought lightness to whatever tense situation he found them in. He was known for his penchant to be kidding around, cracking dad jokes left and right and his laughter was contagious. But those traits were nowhere to be found.

His voice was surprisingly deep as he directed his equally captivating eyes to their lead CEO with darkness even Jimin who was walking behind him found startling. “Don't forget, I'm the one who prepares your food, Kim Namjoon."

Namjoon blinked at that, his hold on his laptop loosening at his hyung’s words. “All is fair in love and war?” he supplemented sheepishly, his fingers lifting to flash him a peace sign to which his hyung merely rolled his eyes to before plopping down the huge sofa and closing his eyes, his long leg stretched out in front of him.

Next to display his displeasure was Park Jimin, the one that was the scariest when mad. “You should have just shipped us to Japan then I’d be able to at least buy my skincare products,” Jimin sassed as he rolled his eyes at the lead CEO. His nose was turned up high as he strutted in the room. Despite the long hours spent travelling, Namjoon could not see any evidence that any single blonde hair was out of place on Jimin’s. “I think I finally know what hatred feels like.”

Last to enter was Taehyung and Jungkook. In his own peculiar way, Taehyung was fake sobbing in Jungkook’s arms while the latter was pouting at Namjoon as he patted the back of the former. “I never thought I’d be betrayed by the person I look up the most!”

“Yah!” Seokjin suddenly opened his eyes in disbelief “You trust him the most when I spend all my money on your food from when you were 13 to now?!”

Jungkook merely nodded, his doe eyes seeing nothing wrong with what he said. Taehyung, on the other hand, suddenly stopped acting and stood up straight to face the occupants of the room. “How are we reduced to this: betraying each other?” his deep voice resounded over the room, holding a tone of certain seriousness. His dark eyes met theirs. “Aren’t we better than this? We are brothers. We are better than animals that kill each other in the wild to survive. We are civilized men who are in the top performers of the society, who are featured in every reputable magazine. We are men that are leaders of-”

“Weren’t you the first to betray us, hyung?” Jungkook suddenly asked, effectively cutting off his speech. His head was tilted to the side as he sat beside Seokjin who was actively pushing him away to no avail, grumbling about how he should sit beside the brother he trusted the most.

“That’s neither here nor there!” Taehyung’s volume increased from guilt, his eyes comically widening.

“How?! It’s literally here! And it’s still here!” Jimin shouted, further antagonizing his agemate to which Taehyung gladly took on. The screaming match went on, with Jin joining, whereas Jungkook chimed in every once in a while, clearly enjoying the ensuing chaos. Every now and then, though, he voiced out how much he missed you. Namjoon was massaging his forehead and quietly telling them to stop and to keep quiet because someone was sleeping. It was only Hoseok who was silently watching his brothers and doing a quiet headcount only to come up short.

“Guys? Aren’t we seven?” He broke his silence for the first time, effectively stopping the loud bickering of the brothers. “Where’s Yoongi?”

The loud bickering of his brothers faded as he slipped inside the mansion without them noticing. To be honest, he did not have the required energy to deal with them, much so when he could barely keep himself upright. He didn’t want to see that traitorous bastard, Kim Namjoon, for more than a second. They all had a piece to say but they were all morons, Yoongi thought. As he trudged up the last step of the stairs, he looked up and there was you.

Min Yoongi couldn’t believe his own eyes. He thought that it was his sanity breaking down from the physical pain he had been feeling since he parted from you, and decided to play cruel games with him in the form of you. But there was no way that you were actually here, right? There was no way you were standing in the hallway in your sleepwear…right?

On the other hand, you blinked and looked at Yoongi’s pale face. He looked like he was straining to hold himself upright, evidenced by his grip on the stair’s handrail. His hands were shaking and you were worried that any moment now, he would fall.

You were proven correct not even a second later.

You watched as his body swayed, his eyes closed and you were moving before you could even think of the repercussion. Without heeding to any of your friend’s warning about touching them, you stepped in just in time to steady his body. The momentum from his combined weight and the gravity made you stepped back as his head found its place on your shoulder. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his broad back to anchor him to you.

“Daepyonim Min,” you called for his attention, gauging his alertness while tapping your hand on his back with a sense of urgency. “Daepyonim Min, you need help. Let me call-”

“Little one,” you heard him breathed you in before speaking so slowly, a tone of disbelief in his voice. “You’re real, aren’t you?” His hand slowly cupped your cheek, needing to feel you, needing to know if the object of his love was truly here. “How?”

“I’m here…but it’s a long story. First, we need help. You’re not okay!”

“You’re here,” he repeated to himself, his voice that of wonder. “I-I’m okay now,” he replied with so much warmth as he struggled to lift himself up to look at you. “I just need to sleep. It’s been a long ass day,” he groaned, the ache from his head was slowly dissipating from the proximity to you, yet its intensity since they landed was at its highest. He knew it would take him the whole night to recuperate. But somehow, he knew he could do it easily with you by his side. He didn’t even care why you were here, or even how you got here. What was important was you were now here where you belong- with them.

Against your better judgement and completely unaware of the thoughts running in his head, you nodded as you followed his directions to his room. Just like his personality that you knew him of, his room was no non-sense in a way that all things were functional. It was apparent that the man favored minimalism and comfort over luxury. It was clean and uncluttered, with just the essentials neatly arranged. The bed, large and inviting, dominated the room, adorned with crisp white sheets and a fluffy comforter. A single nightstand stood beside it, holding a small lamp and a few books.

You helped him settle onto the bed, arranging the pillows behind him to support his weary body. He let out a contented sigh as he sank into the softness, his eyes closing momentarily in relief as the weariness slightly subdued.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with gratitude. His eyes held sincerity and warmth. The way he was looking at you, the way he was holding on to your wrist because he didn’t want to let you go only served as reminders of your guilt. He wouldn’t be acting this way if this was normal circumstances.

Your negligence that day brought you here. And those emotions he was showing you were not real, you reminded yourself.

"You're welcome," you replied softly with utmost sincerity, a gentle yet sad smile playing on your lips. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

He had you now, why would he let you go?

It was his rationale as he pulled you to lie beside him, the surprisingly comfortable bed and his enescapable hold were enough to tire you out, you pushing him away did nothing. Despite your inner turmoil, you found yourself yielding to his pull, sinking onto the bed beside him. The warmth of his body radiated against yours, a stark contrast to the chill of your guilt-ridden thoughts.

And when he whispered for you to stay, you did.

It was barely an hour later when Yoongi was awakened by the annoying buzzing of his phone. He looked at you, a smile tugging on his lips at how your mouth was agape as you slumbered off in his arms. You were just so adorable that he wanted to put you in his pocket. He grinned at that thought. He already felt better.

You were the cure, he was sure.

However, the headache seemed to be returning from the persistent phone calls he was getting. He sighed, picking up his phone carefully to not wake you up only to find out it was a videocall from Taehyung.

“Hyung! Where are you?” his deep voice resounded over the quietness of the room. Yoongi, on the other hand, had to lower the volume immediately.

“Shut up,” he admonished him quietly, careful to not arose you from your sleep.

“Are you…sleeping?! When we’re all worried about you?!” the camera spanned out to Seokjin who was eating calmly, lacking any evidence of worry that Taehyung was claiming while Jungkook was running in the background, looking for Yoongi in every corner and even under the furniture. Meanwhile, Jimin was on his phone trying to rank up on his games.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s clear that you’re all worried about me,” he noted in a deadpanned voice, not believing any bullshit coming from Taehyung’s mouth.

Namjoon entered the frame casually, his eyes taking in his hyung’s rested form. He had an inkling of suspicion as to why. “You look well-rested, hyung,” he stated his observation, his complexion looked healthy in comparison to Taehyung’s. Yoongi raised his brow at that. His initial theory that the span of time spent without you was making them sick only got stronger because of Namjoon’s healthier look.

“Did you find our gift?” Hoseok asked from behind the two men, casually hanging his arms on their shoulders. He was smiling. But his eyes held a certain darkness they usually didn’t have.

“I did. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

Wednesday, Day 2

“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”

The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.

“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.

“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.

“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.

“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.

“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.

Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”

“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.

"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.

Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.

“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”

“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.

“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.

“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.

“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.

“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.

“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.

But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.

“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.

With them.

“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”

Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to effectively stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.

You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.

And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.

Suffice to say, no one made it to the office today.

You were seated beside Taehyung on the sofa, his thighs plastered to yours as though any space was considered a sin. He had your hand tenderly imprisoned in his. On your other side was Jimin who had his head in the vee of your shoulders. You were their medicine, they were sure.

Meanwhile, you were anything but comfortable. You were never really a fan of skinship, always the one who was reserved and preferred physical distance when surrounded by people. And yes, you were aware that thousands, if not millions, would kill to be in your spot right now but that didn’t make you any more receptive to their proximity. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, not with the way they were watching you.

Especially not with the way Hoseok’s eyebrow raised whenever you even so much as attempted to move. His pointed gaze held you in place, a silent warning against any attempt to flee.

You were stiff. But you knew, and quite frankly you were starting to believe the effectivity and potency of that wretched potion. You already witnessed five of the seven men almost crumbled to the ground from the unbearable pain. There was no way that that was not connected to that potion.

“When did the pain start, Taehyung-ah?” Seokjin asked as he flustered over the younger CEO. He was pouring hot tea for the two agemate, his innate mother instinct surfacing. Despite that, he couldn’t help but look at you with small smile on his lips. He was happy that you were here, truly happy for the first time in ages. It was like his heart calmed down, the darkness slowly vanishing from his mind now that you were in their vicinity. Now, he could just focus on taking care of you

“At around 6 pm…less than 12 hours after little one ran from me,” he finished with his signature pout, turning to you as though he was a puppy you kicked aside and was begging you to take it back. “I was so sad when you ran from me, little one.”

“You also ran from me,” Jimin added, his pouty lips protruding even more as he glared at you. “It deeply wounded me. I am still hurt over that, you know? I woke up so early just to see you.”

“She also ran from me…” Jungkook's voice joined the chorus from his place on the floor with his back leaning on your knees, adding his own layer of disappointment.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Namjoon asked the peculiar man in concern, his worry lessening as Taehyung started to gain back his colors.

“Because! Hyung looked sicker than me!” Taehyung response was quick while pointing at Yoongi who was looking at them stoically. He looked bored, except when he turned to look at you and then all of a sudden, he was shooting sweet smile at your direction, his fingers forming heart sign. You blinked owlishly at his sudden display of affection.

“You idiot, he’s just naturally pale!” Seokjin admonished him even as he continued to feed him light snacks.

“Next time, say something when you’re not feeling well,” Hoseok broke his silence, a smile forming on his lips and you just knew it was fake. “Our little one is with us now. We no longer have to suffer, right, sunshine?”

The weight of Hoseok's words hung in the air, wrapped in the softness and faux innocence of his tone. It almost seemed like an innocent question, but you couldn't shake the feeling of caution that settled in the pit of your stomach. After all, it was Hoseok who ensnared you in his web and brought you into this situation.

Seokjin, sensing the tension between the two of you, directed your focus on him. His body was now turned to you, his form relaxed as he offered you a gentle and encouraging smile. “How did you get here, little one?”

“Daepyeonims Kim and Jung-“

“I take back what I said last night. I love you and you’re the best leader anyone could ever have!” Jimin suddenly said, jumping from his seat to cling to the aforementioned CEO. After which, the five of them listened to your retelling of how you got here.

“It’s true that we had an inkling of why we are acting…well, the way we are,” Seokjin noted after a lapse of silence, looking down at his hands as he did so. “It was the only plausible explanation, regardless of how illogical it was.”

“We weren’t- aren’t behaving normally. We thought back to everything that transpired during that day and the only deviation was our interaction with you.,” Namjoon took charge of the explanation, his voice steady and authoritative, as befitting a leader. “At first, the symptoms were bearable to say the least. I even managed to hold off for the whole day until I saw you in the elevator. And even then, I was already suffering. The pain was nothing I ever experienced before. All I could think about was you. All I craved was your presence. All I wanted that whole day was to go to you.”

Yoongi nodded, experiencing firsthand the excoriating pain last night. “Everything was a struggle. It’s like our organs were not functioning properly, like oxygen struggled to enter our lungs no matter how hard we breathed.”

“And you are the cure.”

You lifted your eyes to Park Jimin who sounded serious for the first time this morning. His smile was even missing from his face, but his eyes held genuineness. “You’re the only one we need, little one.”

But instead of feeling relieved, you felt suffocated, overwhelmed by the weight of their dependence on you. The realization that you held the key to their well-being filled you with a sense of panic, the walls closing in around you. You wanted to help them, to ease their suffering, but the burden felt too heavy to bear. With all seven of them relying on you, the pressure threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you struggled to find your voice amidst the chaos, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The repercussions of that potion were far greater than you could have ever imagined, and now, you were left to grapple with the consequences. “Until when?”

You untangled Taehyung’s arms from you and moved away despite the whine that left Jimin. You stood up, your back almost to the wall as you regarded them with your eyes. “Until when will you need me?”

“We don’t know, yet, my love,” Namjoon answered truthfully at the same time Taehyung.

“Forever,” his deep voice resounded over the room, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

Silence descended, thick and palpable, as the gravity of the situation settled upon each of you like a suffocating blanket. The only sound was the faint hum of the ventilation system, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within your mind.

Forever. The word echoed in your ears, reverberating with both promise and dread. The thought of being tethered to them indefinitely sent shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of the magnitude of their reliance on you.

Jimin shifted uncomfortably, his eyes pleading as he reached out a hand towards you. "Please, don't leave us," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Your shoulders dropped down at his plea. You knew yourself all too well. You had to help them. You had to go at the bottom of this. You were going to be patient.

But patience was never your best suit.

You finally had it at exactly five in the afternoon. See you didn’t even last for 10 hours and you already felt suffocated. Anywhere you went, there would be at least two of them tailing you. Every time you turned to ask for space, they would be flashing you the sweetest smiles you were ever given. Every time you ran into Yoongi, he would blatantly offer you all his stocks; Jin was always seen to be carrying snacks around for you and trying to feed you; Namjoon would always try to herd you in his display room of paintings and sculptures; while Hoseok would always look at you then his phone and order you clothes that you wouldn’t even dream of buying from the price alone.

Meanwhile, the maknae line was always around you, beaming with energy and trying their very best to rizz you up. It was safe to say that they were doing their absolute best to make you lose your composure.

Which is why you abruptly stopped walking, turned around, and glared at the men behind you that almost crashed into each other, including your cat that was following you around the house.

“May I help you?” you asked, your brow raised as you waited for their answer as they looked at each other.

“Yes, little one. You definitely can help us. Let’s go over there and cuddle!” Jimin smiled angelically at you as he pointed upstairs to what you assumed was his room. See, this man looked so harmless. In fact, you thought he looked the sweetest among the seven, but his eyes could never fool you. You physically saw someone blushed so hard when he smiled at them, his eyes crinkling into crescents as he brushed his hair up like he was fond of doing.

On the other hand, Taehyung, ever the agreeable companion to Jimin, nodded vigorously, his boxy smile widening as he looked at you expectantly. Jungkook was bouncing on his feet, excited with the prospect that he got to have you in his arms despite his inability to meet your eyes at the moment.

Wednesday Evening, Day 2

“We need to talk,” you huffed as you pushed the three men inside what you assumed was the common room of this huge mansion.

Seokjin, who was already inside the room and enthusiastically playing his game, rapidly turned it off despite obviously winning to give you all his attention. His back was straightened after kicking his gaming console away. The way he was looking at you made you blushed, but you were deathly determined to not show it. You were terrified that if you gave in even an inch, then these men would gladly take a mile. You couldn’t let yourself drown in this scenario, and most of all, you shouldn’t let yourself fall for them.

These were just effects of that wretched potion. None of these were real.

“Yes, little one? What’s on your mind?” Namjoon’s voice suddenly disrupted your thoughts as he walked in the room, his posture relaxed. He intentionally brushed against your side, his hard muscles softly swaying your soft one, satisfying the call inside him to have you near him. He leaned against the table where Hoseok and Yoongi were working. They both gave you their attention as soon as you declared that conversation needed to be had.

“Speak your mind, sunshine,” Hoseok urged you gently with a smile on his face as though he didn’t terrify you the night before. Your eyes lingered on him, still unable to read his true personality. Or which among the versions he showed you were his realest?

Yoongi nodded when he saw you hesitated, giving you assurance you obviously needed to continue.

“I need space.”

Cue the tears from Jungkook, chaos from Taehyung and Jimin, rapid reasoning from Seokjin, dramatic clutching of heart from Yoongi partnered with a deathly glare to the who he assumed made you say those wretched word; maknae line, clenched of jaw from Namjoon and deafening silence from Hoseok. Despite the expected mixed reaction, one emotion rose above them all.

Panic.

As though they had one mind, the six CEOs turned to look at Namjoon, a plead for him to make sense of what was happening and to fix this for them. It was obvious that they needed you like air, if not more. Their survival hinged on you, and that was not even an overstatement.

Seokjin, ever perceptive, sensed the uncharacteristic struggle within the lead CEO. Namjoon’s jaw was clenched, a sure sign of his struggle to maintain composure in the face of the unexpected. In a move only Seokjin could execute with dramatic flair, he jumped away from you, creating a symbolic distance that echoed your plea. He was pointedly looking at the expanse of space between of the two of you as though this was what you meant when you knew he understood what you truly meant by space.

“There, little one,” Seokjin spoke softly, his voice carrying a weight that resonated through the room. His eyes were dark that held a mix of understanding and yet, a stubborn determination. “Space.”

You sighed, looking up at the peculiar-looking chandelier you just knew was Taehyung’s idea. “That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what do you mean?” Taehyung cut you off, his earlier tirade and childlike rebellion with his agemate were nowhere to be found and instead, who stood before you was an entirely different man. Had you looked closer, then perhaps you would have seen the swirling darkness in his eyes.

“You know we’d die without you. Why are you doing this?” Yoongi, who was still clutching his heart, spoke lowly. His eyes that you thought to be always emotionless were brimming with sadness. His words tugged at your heart.

But if they just let you speak, then they’d understood-

“Is that what you want?” Hoseok asked monotonously, and this time he didn’t look like the lively and full of sunshine CEO. This time, he looked like a dangerous man who was about to go off. He lifted his dark brow before standing up and circling to where you were. He was close, too close and yet, none of him was touching you. The height difference between the two of you made him seemed more intimidating as he leaned down to meet your eyes. “You want us to die, is that it? Hmm?”

“No-“

“Then what?”

“I just need space for myself-“

“But noona! I need you. We need yo-“

You turned to glare at Jungkook who actively gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. “Can you let me speak? Can you all let me finish?”

“Yes, noona. Sorry, noona. You’re so beautiful, noona,” he rapidly said as he formed hearts with his fingers, his smile was lovely as though he didn’t just annoy you.

“All of you,” Namjoon’s commanding voice echoed in the room, his draconic eyes set on you even as he addressed his brothers. “Sit down and let little one talk.”

Once they were all settled in with the five men sitting on the sofa, Yoongi not moving from his seat, and Namjoon standing tall- a deliberate choice, you thought, to let you know that you might have the floor but he still held the reins, you started explaining to them how you could not do this if it meant that you wouldn’t have any time for yourself. In order to leave this house once this was all over with your sanity intact, then you had to have rules and regulations like civil men did.

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing your resolve. Jin shifted in his seat, his expression unreadable. Hoseok glanced between you and Namjoon, silently absorbing the tension. Taehyung and Jungkook remained quiet, their eyes fixed on you, waiting for your conditions. Jimin scoffed lightly.

“What do you propose?” Jimin asked, his velvet smooth voice seemed to be innocent had you not known that he identified as a Slytherin.

“2 hours each. I think that since there are seven of you, that would be 14 hours of my day-“

“Dibs to the remaining 10 hours!” Yoongi suddenly said, his hand shooting up and his face held determination and a hint of mischief. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Yoongi as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Jimin raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable for a moment before a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Bold move, Yoongi," he remarked, his tone light but edged with amusement. "I, myself, am also vying for those ten hours, little one."

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly, uncaring of what Jimin was saying. "I know what I want," he stated simply, crossing his arms as he leaned back further in his seat, looking supremely confident. “And anyway, now that I had her in my arms last night, I really don’t think I can sleep alone, anymore.”

“Excuse me?!” Taehyung stood up, facing Yoongi with disbelief in his face. “How did that happen-”

“Does being the oldest not mean anything anymore?!”

“You might as well step on me, hyung! You might as well kick me where it hurts the most- oh wait! You did!”

You shook your head as maknae line plus Seokjin screamed at each other. Meanwhile, Hoseok was trying to keep the peace. Namjoon was the only one who kept on watching you, his mind going over an overdrive as to how to resolve this all while maintaining their leverage over you and keeping you happy.

“Fine, we accept.”

They all turned to Namjoon, their eyes comically large at how easy their leader agreed. “We do?” Hoseok asked.

“Either that or lose her. Or die. So yes, we agree. In return, within those two hours of your undivided attention, you’ll cater to our every need.”

You blinked owlishly at what he said. And also, did he have to say that like that?!

“F-fine! But those ten hours will truly be mine, okay?”

“What will you even do within those ten hours, noona?” Jungkook asked innocently, his doe eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Shower, sleep, eat, meditate so as to not lose my mind-“

“But why can’t we do all those things together?” Jimin whined, swaying his body in emphasis of his desire to be included.

“Because! That’s private-“

“But we’re close!” Jungkook added, his eyes wide and earnest.

“Oh my God, you idiot,” you heard Seokjin murmured under his breath, disappointed and quite frankly, embarrassed by the youngest’s stubbornness.

“Two hours start when?” Hoseok finally asked something that could be answered logically.

“7 in the morning and ends at 9 in the evening.”

Thursday morning, Day 3

“Rise and shine, my one and only!”

Your room was gently engulfed by light as Kim Seokjin opened the door at exactly 7 in the morning. He was still wearing his blue pajamas and in his hands was a tray with what looked to be a delectable mug of coffee. You blinked your sleepiness away as he stepped in the room. He carefully placed the tray on your bedside table, before cupping your cheeks in between his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

Okay.

That woke you up.

His gesture was unexpected, and it most probably showed on your face from the way he chuckled as he booped your nose.

“Ah, you’re so beautiful even in the morning, little one!” He exclaimed before stepping back and flicking the curtains open further, letting even more sunlight stream into the room. How was this fair, you wondered. How could he look so perfect and put-together even when he was still in his sleepwear? You glanced at the mirror on the wall and was horrified to see how opposite you looked to the man who just declared that you were so beautiful in the morning.

If you didn’t believe in the effectivity of the potion before, then you definitely did now. Your hair was all over the place and you had sleep in your eyes.

And oh my God, was that a dried drool on the side of your lips?!

You immediately made yourself presentable the best you could before Seokjin sat on your bed, lifting his own mug to his lips…his very plump lips. He was unfazed by your awkward demeanor.

“I am so glad I have this schedule. Nothing beats spending the morning with you,” he murmured warmly, his eyes shining with sincerity and love(?) “I made breakfast, little one. Get ready and come down, okay?”

It was quarter to eight when you finally joined him in the patio where he set up the breakfast. He was already dressed for work like you, his hair now sleeked up. Also, how could a forehead look that good? Did that even make any sense?!

He turned to you and smiled. His eyes traced your form before standing. He gently tugged you in his arms, completely engulfing you within him. You could hear his heart and hoped that he couldn’t hear yours; it was definitely embarrassing how fast yours was beating in comparison to his. You weren’t really used to being physically close to anyone, let alone your CEOs that you never had personal interactions with before this.

“I didn’t put on at tie yet because I wanted us to match,” he easily shared in your ear before guiding you to your seat as though what he did was not meant to make your heart beat faster.

You looked at all the mouthwatering dishes he prepared and wondered just how long he had been awake for. “Where are the others?” you hadn’t seen nor heard any of them in the house and you wondered if they had already eaten.

Seokjin merely smiled at you before artfully cutting pieces of the croissant he made for you and putting them on your plate. “Little one, it’s my time. You’re mine.”

“For two hours…” you added, suddenly feeling ominous by the way he worded his schedule and his dark eyes despite the sweet and seemingly harmless smile he was sporting.

“Sure.”

After he dropped you off in your office wherein he held your hand all the way from the car until he delivered you to your office chair, he planted a kiss on the back of your hand despite your reluctance. You couldn’t help but noticed the grip he had on you, nor the way he looked around the office and glared at any men glancing your way.

And of course, everyone in the office saw.

At exactly 9:01 am, a bouquet of flower was sent to your office. The sender? None other than Jung Hoseok himself.

He was sure to be punctual, not wasting any second off his scheduled time. He thought that time was gold, and he wanted nothing more since he woke up to be with you.

Sufficed to say, Jung Hoseok craved you so bad.

Your eyes widened from the sunflowers to him as he flashed you his sunny smile as though he didn’t scare you the past days with his warnings. “For the most beautiful part of my day.”

You could hear the murmurs of your officemates, and you were already dreading the gossips that would surely come. You wondered how they would look at you once this was all over. For sure, you’d be the laughing stock of the ton.

You most probably have to resign…

“Darling?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Hoseok tilted his head as he leaned in you, his hand on your armrest. This close and you could smell him. And heavens. He smelled heavenly. He smelled clean and crisp, like the subtle touch of ocean breeze. This close and you could see how perfect his features were, how harmoniously proportionate they were. This close and you could see the darkness he always kept in bay.

“What are you thinking?”

“N-nothing-“

“Tell me,” he demanded gently, his eyes trained on your lips like no one was looking, like you and him were existing in your own world where no one could touch you and take you away from him.

Where no one could take you away from them.

“I-“

“Good morning! I have great, great news!”

Your friend breezed into the office, fashionably late as usual, her face lit up with excitement. The room buzzed with curious glances as she made her way to her desk, her eyes searching until they landed on yours. The grin she was sporting faltered off as the CEO turned to her with an expression she didn’t like before it all went away and Hoseok flashed her a smile.

“G-good morning, Daepyeonim Jung.”

“Good morning,” he answered cheerfully, fully straightening up and granting you the much-needed space to catch your breath. “What’s your good news?”

She looked at you, and only when you nodded did she whisper the news that her grandmother knew someone from the mountains that had the answer and solution. Her voice was hushed enough that your coworkers couldn’t hear her, yet clear enough to give you hope. Your grin was so wide as you stood up and hugged her.

It was only when you turned to Hoseok to share your happiness did you notice something unsettling. His expression had darkened briefly, a shadow passing over his features before he hastily composed himself with a bright smile.

What was that?

Before you could dwell on that, he declared it good news and pulled you out of the office.

You found yourself standing in the middle of his office as he plopped down on his chair, stack of paper on his table that grew in size from missing yesterday’s work. He seemed busy, yet he was looking expectedly at you. His eyes were serious as he gestured for you to come closer.

It was apparent he wasn’t happy with the distance when you decided to stop three feet away from him. His eyes remained impassive as he sighed and without any warning, pulled you to him. You landed on his surprisingly muscular lap, your hands automatically going to his shoulders in an effort to steady you.

Your eyes widened at his actions and any attempt to stand up was squashed by his ironlike grip around you.

“Didn’t you promise you’d cater to our every need when we agreed on that ridiculous two-hour schedule?”

“And having me on your lap is a need?!”

“It is. I want- no. I need you close,” and only when he confessed did you see the miniscule tremors in his hands. He was nuzzling his face on your neck, breathing in the scent he missed so much. Your soft skin against his touch somehow calmed the demons. If he was already like this despite you seeing him last night, then it meant that their symptoms were worsening like what your friend warned you of. The more time you spent with them and the more that your skins touched meant that their lovesickness would only worsen in time.

You were dreading to think what would happen to the remaining CEOs and how they would act, more so when Jimin and Namjoon were in the last two.

Namjoon's schedule sneakpeak Jungkook’s schedule sneakpeak, Part 3 sneakpeak, Part 3

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #ot7 x you #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #kim namjoon fic #kim seokjin fic #min yoongi fic #jung hoseok fic #park jimin fic #kim taehyung fic #jeon jungkook fic #bts smut

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ihrtnanami · 29 days ago

Text

same time next week?

dilf! nanami kento x female! teacher reader

my best friend gave me this prompt and it’s so scrumptious omg. i wish men were real 💔

pt. 1 (currently reading!) pt. 2 (soon!) pt. 3 (tbd) pt. 4 (tbd) pt 5. (tbd) pt 6. (tbd) word count: 1.2k (sorry for the shortish chapter, i want it to be more interesting in further ones^-^)

the rain falls gently as the morning unfolds, the rhythmic sounds of droplets tapping against the ground, filling the air. it's another day of learning for the happy, buzzing children in the neighborhood. loving goodbyes, the soft bounce of rain on umbrellas, wet footsteps splashing across the pavement, and chitter chatter among the students are all that can be heard.

you stand at the entrance of the elementary school, greeting your students with a warm smile. they smile back and make their way to the classroom to greet the assistant teacher and unpack their belongings.

in minutes, the slight rush begins to subside, leaving just a few straggling students arriving at the entrance. following that, it would soon be time for class to begin.

but something feels off.

a girl whose father is always on time, hasn't arrived yet.

"odd." you think to yourself, but dismiss the concern. after all, anyone can be delayed by sickness or unforeseen circumstances.

another couple minutes pass, and it's nearly time for the school day to start. time to get back to class to greet the students once more and begin to go over the plans for today.

you shrug and begin to make your way into the school. as you do, you hear hurried footsteps approaching closer and closer to you.

turning around, you catch a glimpse of aoki, whose hair is drenched by the rain, followed closely by her father, who is equally soaked.

"aoki, mr. nanami," you smile, "glad you could make it."

both father and daughter are panting, and nanami’s face shows signs of distress as he catches his breath.

you hold your umbrella over the two, offering a shield from the downpour.

mr. nanami sighs. "sorry we're late," he starts, his voice tinged with frustration.

"it's no problem at all, don't worry," you reassure him.

"i’m glad you’re not upset, but it doesn’t look great," he admits. looking up at the umbrella that covers him and his daughter, he speaks up again.

"thank you for covering us."

you smile, nodding. "it's no trouble at all. seems like you both need it more than i do." you chuckle slightly.

a brief silence envelops you both. your eyes drift down to aoki, her pink bows in her hair and neat uniform stand in stark contrast to her soaking wet shoes and drenched white socks.

"she's adorable, her mother must love dolling her up every morning," you say, smiling at aoki.

mr. nanami pauses, his gaze dropping to his daughter as well. the air between you grows heavier as his expression shifts slightly.

"she did... when she was an infant," he says, his voice soft.

"oh... i'm sorry, is she...?" you begin, but trail off.

he shakes his head. "no," he sighs, "things just... didn't work out, and eventually, she wasn't suitable enough to be a mother to my princess."

you nod, feeling the weight of his words and glance away awkwardly. catching the shift of your demeanor, he smiles acknowledging your shy discomfort

the moment stretches into an uncomfortable, awkward silence, until you look back at him. his honey-colored eyes meet yours, and for a brief, startling moment, you both seem to freeze. the world slows as his gaze locks with yours, and your grip on the umbrella falters. before you can even react, mr. nanami reaches out, gently placing the umbrella back in your hands. his other hand rests on top of yours, steadying your hold.

your eyes are locked onto one another's and time feels as if its still for a moment—all until the school bell rings.

the sound of the bell pulls you both back to reality.

"i-" you both start in unison, then fall silent again, hesitant to speak over the other.

mr. nanami clears his throat, his hand still resting on yours. "i apologize… anyways... i should get going now," he says.

you nod, "yeah... aoki and i should hurry inside."

mr. nanami nods, removing his hands from yours, stepping back slightly.

"i'll be on time to pick her up, i apologize again," he says, bowing slightly.

"it's all right, mr. nanami," you smile. "see you then."

"see you, miss. y/n." he replies with a smile, and you both turn to go your separate ways.

you hold the umbrella over yourself and aoki as you step inside. closing the umbrella, and shaking off the rain, you look over to her. her bright smile catches your attention, and you can't help but ask with curiosity, "what's got you so happy, aoki?"

she giggles, adjusting her backpack. you raise an eyebrow, walking beside her.

a few moments of silence pass, and then she leans in closer, gesturing for you to come down to her level. you crouch slightly, and aoki cups her hand to your ear, whispering with a mischievous giggle.

"papa has a really big crush on you," she whispers with a giggle, her eyes sparkling with secret joy.

"i-" you stammer, caught off guard by her words.

she smiles at your reaction, and you clear your throat, standing up straight again.

"does he now?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

"yup! he does." she grins. "he told me not to tell you..."

"then why did you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

aoki shrugs and slides open the door to the classroom. as she rushes inside to join her friends, you try your best to remain composed, though your face feels flushed and your heart is racing.

did nanami kento really have a crush on you?

you try to brush it off, but the signs are hard to ignore - the lingering glances, the way your hands would brush against his when handing papers, the long chats after school... does it even mean anything? you’re just overthinking it, right? but then there are the little compliments on your hair, the way he sometimes stares at you when you’re not looking - though, if you’re being honest, you’re fully aware of it. it’s subtle, almost unnoticed, but you can feel it, that quiet tension between you.

and those moments when his eyes linger just a second too long, when his smile seems a little more personal than casual... you shake your head, trying to make sense of it, but your mind keeps wandering back to those moments.

is it really nothing, or is there something more? you don’t want to assume - maybe it’s just out of kindness, respect maybe? maybe it’s just him being considerate - but part of you can't help but wonder if there’s more behind those glances, those fleeting touches, than he's letting on.

you sigh, standing at the front of the class near the chalkboard. your eyes wander over the students, still chatting away, and your gaze lands on aoki, her bright smile as she talks with her friends.

"nanami kento..." you think to yourself.

you don't have a thing for him but...

the way he cares for his daughter? the way he protects her, loves her - his dedication to his daughter is truly admirable.

and, not to mention, he’s handsome in a way that seems almost unfair… the way his features catch the light, the quiet strength in his demeanor - it’s all so... captivating.

who are you kidding? you definitely have a thing for him.

you clear your throat and clap your hands together, grabbing the attention of your students.

"good morning, class." you say with smile.

"good morning, ms. y/n!" they reply in unison, their voices full of enthusiasm, as always.

@erensfeed hai pookie... don't kill me D;

ahh, i finally posted my (partial) debut post! :') hope you enjoyed reading! feel free to leave any feedback, suggestions, or requests!

12/13/2024 ♡ ihrtnanami

#ihrtnanami #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #jujutsu nanami #x reader #x female reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk au #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #jjk x you #nanami x you

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rafecameronssl4t · 19 days ago

Note

Omg Pt 2 of unfinished lap??? Reader makes him eat his heart out looking super hot and he grovels??? PUHLEASE

Unfinished lap pt.2 || F1 driver!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭😭😭

Warnings: angst!!!!

Word count: 1,396

MASTERLIST (F1 driver!Rafe x reader au masterlist)

PART ONE HERE

The Monaco Grand Prix was undoubtedly one of the most highly anticipated races of the year, and it was clear why. The energy was electric from the moment you stepped into the paddock. Journalists swarmed, eager to capture every headline-worthy moment, while paparazzi darted about, snapping photos of drivers and their glamorous entourages.

Team crew members hustled through the maze of garages, their focused expressions a stark contrast to the spectacle of it all. It was a world that thrived on chaos, glitz, and precision—a breathtaking display of Formula 1’s allure. Austin had accompanied you this time, his calm presence a stark contrast to the whirlwind around you.

It had been a week since you last spoke to Rafe, your communication routed exclusively through Austin. The distance had been intentional. After the heated fallout at the Miami Grand Prix, you had felt the need to step away, to find a moment to breathe. So, you flew back home for a few days, seeking solace in the familiar before making your way to France just 24 hours ago.

Of course, your arrival had been made seamless, courtesy of Rafe's private jet. It was his unspoken way of showing care, even in the midst of a strained silence. He had respected your desire for space, understanding the weight of what had transpired between you. Yet, the air still felt charged, the unresolved tension from Miami lingering like an invisible thread pulling at both of you.

Now, standing in the heart of Monaco’s bustling paddock, you couldn’t help but wonder how this weekend would unfold. The aftermath of Miami still clung to you like a stubborn shadow. Your abrupt departure before the race had even ended—and without Rafe by your side—had set social media ablaze. Fans were quick to notice, flooding timelines with speculation.

Did you and Rafe have a falling out? Was this the beginning of cracks in what many saw as a perfect relationship? The whispers of gossip added another layer to the weight you already carried. As you stepped into the paddock, the flashing cameras were almost blinding. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, their voices rising as they called your name. You offered them a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes but was enough to quell the barrage of questions—for now.

The murmurs and shutter clicks followed you like a persistent hum, a reminder that every move you made here was under scrutiny. Austin, always the reliable mediator, had informed you that Rafe was already at the paddock. His presence was palpable even without seeing him, a tension that hung in the air. But finding him wasn’t your priority at the moment. The thought of facing him so soon felt daunting, not when your emotions were still tangled from the events in Miami.

Instead, you sought comfort in familiar company, meeting up with some friends at Ferrari’s hospitality complex. The atmosphere was lively but far more relaxed than the frenzy outside. You eased into the plush seating, a chilled glass of champagne in hand, while plates of gourmet food were passed around. The warm laughter and light conversation helped loosen the knot in your chest, even if only temporarily.

Yet, even as you tried to immerse yourself in the moment, you couldn’t ignore the faint buzz of your phone in your bag.

Rafe

Austin says you're here, where are you?

Y/n

Hospitality.

Without waiting for Rafe's response, you silenced your phone, flipping it face down on the table with a snap. You didn’t want to be distracted, not when there were conversations to be had with friends who actually cared—or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you leaned back into the easy rhythm of small talk with Sofia and the others. Your smile was polite, but hollow, just like the words coming out of your mouth.

Inside, you were still seething, and nothing about the pre-race buzz seemed to settle the storm inside you. As the race approached, the paddock swelled with even more energy. "Y/n! Over here!" You hear paparazzi call out as you turn your head to see them all flashing their camera as you give them a wave. "They grow more obsessive over you every day, I swear," Sofia chuckles, as you let out a soft snort, knowing this dress was your petty version of a revenge dress.

The air crackled with excitement, but you were numb to it, your thoughts wrapped tightly around everything that had been left unsaid between you and Rafe. Sofia nudged you, a knowing glint in her eyes, breaking your daze. You frowned, her questioning look making you snap out of your thoughts. "What?" you asked.

She nodded subtly, gesturing with her chin, and you followed her gaze. Your heart clenched. Rafe was approaching, his racing suit snug against his toned frame, the helmet in his hand an afterthought. His eyes, however, were locked onto you with an intensity that made you want to look away. He walked through the chaos of the grid like he was moving in slow motion, cutting through the noise, determined.

The sea of people, the flashes of cameras, none of it seemed to matter. It was like he was trying to pull you back in, but you weren’t sure you wanted to be pulled anymore. Sofia gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile before slipping away toward her boyfriend. You stayed rooted to the spot, knowing full well what was coming. Your eyes met his when he finally reached you, and the force of his gaze nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

There was something there—something unreadable. You hated how it made you feel. You offered him a smile, but you knew it didn’t reach your eyes. It was stiff, polite, barely enough to hide the way you felt. He saw it, of course, because he always did. He could read you better than anyone else. “Good luck,” you said, the words coming out more as a formality than genuine well-wishing. Your voice was even, but it didn’t carry the warmth it usually did when you said it to him.

You stepped closer, placing your hands lightly on his shoulders, doing it out of habit rather than any lingering affection. It was an automatic move, like you’d done it a thousand times before. Rising onto your toes, you kissed his cheek. The kiss was longer than it should have been, the seconds stretching into an eternity as your lips lingered. But it didn’t feel like affection. It felt like something you didn’t want to face.

“Wait.” His voice sliced through the noise, barely audible over the rising hum of the grid as his hand grips your forearm. Your body froze at the sound of it, tension building in your chest. You hated how much it affected you. You hadn’t wanted to see him, hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near him after the things he’d said, yet here he was, pulling you back into his orbit with just two words. You looked over your shoulder, meeting his gaze.

The vulnerability there was almost too much. You turned, your gaze cold. "What?" you snapped, not hiding the edge of frustration in your voice. “Can we talk, please?” he asked, the words soft, almost pleading. His face was a mix of urgency and something you didn’t want to acknowledge. You wanted to scream at him. To tell him you weren’t some emotional ragdoll he could throw aside whenever it suited him. But all that came out was silence.

You glanced around at the sea of people—team members huddled together, journalists with cameras in hand, all capturing this moment. Everything about this was wrong. You could already feel the eyes on you both, the pressure mounting. This was the last place you wanted to have this conversation. "Right now?" you asked, your voice biting. "But—"

Before you could finish, Austin materialized at Rafe’s side, his timing as impeccable as always. You almost resented him for it. “Rafe, the anthem is happening soon,” he said, his voice carrying a firm but unspoken reminder that the world didn’t stop for personal drama. He looked at you briefly, offering a polite smile, but it felt more like an apology for the situation than anything else.

“Go,” you said, your voice colder than you meant it to be. You gently moved his hand from your forearm, the briefest contact of your fingers almost too much. His touch lingered even after he let go, the warmth of it burning into you. His shoulders sagged slightly, a deep exhale leaving his lips. He nodded, but it was a hollow gesture, a promise that didn’t carry weight. “After the race,” he muttered, his voice low, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you.

Rafe’s victory, though impressive, only seemed to amplify the tension between you both. As you stood near the podium, clapping along with the others, you felt the anger simmering beneath your skin. The sound of Ferrari’s team celebrating—their cheers, the clapping—was a distant noise, something that barely registered to you. Rafe stood there, triumphant, raising his trophy high as the crowd cheered around him.

But despite his success, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything other than the sharp ache that had settled in your chest. Your smile, if you could even call it that, was a thin mask you wore out of habit, an automatic response to the situation. You tried to focus on the celebrations, but every part of you was focused on him. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze intense and unyielding.

You stared at the big screen, watching his expression shift as he looked directly down at you, a brief flicker of something—regret, maybe—flashing across his face. You hated it. You hated how that tiny moment made you question everything. You refused to acknowledge it, refused to let yourself feel anything beyond the cold distance you had wrapped around your emotions.

Instead, you kept your focus on the screen, acting like you didn’t care. You could almost hear his voice in your mind, calling out to you, asking for forgiveness, but you shut it out. The ache from his words—those careless, hurtful things he’d said—was still so raw, and you were not ready to let it go. The second the podium ceremony ended, you wasted no time in leaving the crowd behind.

You moved quickly through the cluster of team members, your steps deliberate as you walked away, trying to escape the noise and the energy that had once felt like home.

You hesitated outside the door to Rafe’s private room, your hand hovering over the handle. The paddock’s noise was a faint hum in the distance now, replaced by the deafening sound of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be here—every fibre of your being told you to turn around, to walk away, to protect yourself. But you also couldn’t leave things like this. Not after everything.

With a deep breath, you pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Rafe sat on the small couch, his racing suit unzipped and hanging around his waist, his head resting in his hands. The sight of him—so unguarded, so unlike the Rafe everyone else knew—sent a pang through your chest.

His head snapped up when he heard the door close behind you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension was thick, suffocating, as he straightened up, his gaze flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “You didn’t stay,” he said finally, his voice low, almost accusing.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the anger bubbling up again. “What did you expect, Rafe? A standing ovation for the way you spoke to me in Miami?” His jaw tightened, and he stood, his movements stiff and deliberate as he closed some of the space between you. “I wasn’t thinking straight,” he admitted, his voice strained. “I said things I shouldn’t have.”

“You think an apology fixes everything?” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “Do you even understand how much you hurt me? I was trying to help you, Rafe. To be there for you. And you acted like I was just… in your way. Like I didn’t matter.” His shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his messy hair, his frustration evident. “You don’t think I know that?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly.

“I know I messed up, okay? I know I was out of line. But I didn’t mean any of it.” “Then why say it?” you countered, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you always push me away when all I’m trying to do is be there for you?” Rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Because I don’t know how to deal with this!” he admitted, his voice raw.

“I don’t know how to let people in without feeling like they’re gonna see how much of a failure I feel like sometimes. It’s easier to shut you out than to risk you seeing that.” Your heart clenched at his admission, but the sting of his earlier words still lingered. “You don’t get to make that choice for me, Rafe,” you said softly, your tone firm. “You don’t get to decide how much of you I can handle. That’s not fair. Not to me, and not to us.”

He stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare. “You’re right,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s not fair. And I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this, but I want to. I need to.”You searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret. And fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Rafe,” you said, your voice softening slightly. “I just need you to let me in. To stop shutting me out every time things get hard.”

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I’ll try,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how yet, but I’ll try. Because losing you… I can’t do that. I won’t.” Your resolve wavered, the walls you’d built around yourself beginning to crack. “I’m holding you to that,” you said quietly, letting him close the remaining distance between you.

Rafe’s hand hovered near yours for a moment before he finally took it, his grip tentative but steady. “You deserve better,” he said, his voice laced with a sincerity that made your chest ache. “And I’m going to do better. I promise.”The anger and hurt didn’t disappear completely, but for the first time that day, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.

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laurellerual · 5 months ago

Text

Day 1: Contrasting Beginnings

At Winterfell they had called her "Arya Horseface" and she'd thought nothing could be worse.

...

"A smart boy, but stubborn. That helm … the others call him bullheaded, so he threw it in their teeth."

#arya stark #gendry #asoiaf #gendrya #bookgendryaweek2024 #Stop bullying my kids!

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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago

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Manhood. (P2)

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT

Summary: it's the morning after they consummated their marriage.

Part 1

Masterlist

A/n: Dare I say this could even have a part 3 cause I still have ideas for it???

.................................

The next morning, she was the one to wake up first.

She yawned and stretched, the light from outside barely lighting up the room, signifying that it was still too early to begin the day.

She turned to Cregan who still laid fast asleep. His hair was a mess, a reminder of what they had done the night before.

Only then did she feel the dull ache between her legs.

She sighed lightly and shuffled closer to the man. She gently brushed her lips against his.

She let out a surprised squeak when Cregan kissed her back.

The woman pulled away to see Cregan's lips pull into a wide grin, his eyes still closed.

"Cregan…." She lightly reprimanded.

A soft chuckled rose from his throat and his arm reached out blindly until it found her waist and he pulled her as close to him as he could. "You'll have to forgive me, my love," he huskily whispered into her ear, "I'm only now recalling our late night adventure."

She hummed lightly, her cheek against his throat, "You recall it fondly, I hope?"

His grip on her waist tightened, "Very fondly."

She giggled and began to kiss his jaw.

He let out a small groan as the rest of his body began to stir awake at her touch and he finally opened his eyes, "So eager to go again?"

"I'd never leave this bed if we didn't have to," she admitted as she nipped at his ear.

He pulled his head away to look at her, "we've a few hours at least. Let us use them wisely."

"You've grown rather bold overnight, my lord husband," she teased. "What happened to the meek man I slept with only yesterday?"

He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "He now knows how pleasureful laying with his wife can be, and he's eager for more."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, "Is that so?"

His eyes took in her flushed state, "Only if you'll have me."

She was taken aback by his words, only to have it grow a boldness within her, "Gods, I'll have you in every lifetime, Cregan Stark."

He brushed his lips against hers, and the kiss grew hungry.

Cregan reached down below the blankets with a steady hand and she gasps when his fingers brush against her clit.

She pushed her upper body away from him, "Evil man…"

His thumb continued its movement against her, "Tell me what you want."

She swung a leg over his body and she forced herself on top of him. His grin only widened as she did so.

Once comfortable, Cregan began his movements again. She let out a curse under her breath at the feeling.

His other hand found her waist, rubbing soothing circles against her skin. "Taking me like this, sweet woman?"

"I intend to try," she finally admitted as she willed herself to do so.

She reached down and lined his thick cock up to her body, and began to lower her hips.

She lets out a small whimper and the new sensation, "It's too much. It's too much… I can't…"

The hands on Cregan's chest are trembling even though they don't hold any of her weight.

She's never been on top before, and it's getting to her.

Cregan reaches up and grabs her jaw, pulling her face down to his gently. His voice was a calm reassurance,"It's not. Look at me."

He waits until she does, "You know you can take it. You've taken it before. You're just panicking. Take a breath."

He watches her chest expand and contrast with a shaky breath.

"Do it again."

He makes her continue this until he can feel her walls relax around him.

"Good. You're doing good, sweet girl."

His hands go to her hips and gently push her further down on him more.

This time a moan leaves her lips instead. "Oh, gods…"

A string of groans leaves Cregan's lips when she begins to roll her hips.

Judging by the confidence she just gained, they'll be doing this position more often.

"You complete me, my girl," he finally moans out as his hand moves to her clit again.

The two move in tandem, as if they were truly made for one another.

Completely drunk on pleasure, she lowers her upper body to his, desperately trying to capture his lips with hers.

He is quick to give in, letting her take anything she wanted.

The kiss is messy and unorganized, gasps and moans interrupting it consistently, but the two didn't care.

This new feeling was worth it.

"Only one w…" Cregan let out a stiff whine when she rolled her hips just right, "w… one woman for me, and it's you… gods, it's you."

He didn't last long, and neither did she, the two making a mess of the furs on their bedspread.

She collapsed onto him, not bothering to pull herself off of him completely. He brushed a hand up and down her back comfortingly.

Once the two caught their breath, she interrupted the silence. "We still have time…"

......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

#fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #cregan stark x you #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan x reader #creagan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan stark x female reader #drew drools over cregan stark

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queenofwands89 · 5 months ago

Text

The Storm Within (Part Two) Tyler Owens x fem!reader

Part 1

Summary: Following the events of the first part, a severely injured Y/N lies in a coma while a heartbroken Tyler waits by her side, wondering if she will ever wake up.

Warnings: Hospital, Reader is in a coma, Fluff, Sad Tyler, Slightly angsty.

Notes: I didn't expect so many people to read the first part, let alone want a second, so thank you—it means a lot. I rushed to write this to avoid making you wait any longer, lol. I'm currently accepting writing prompts for Jake Seresin, Tyler Owens, and Glen Powell.

Enjoy byeeee!

Two weeks have slipped by in a blur of sterile hospital corridors and the endless hum of medical machines. Each passing day is a battle against time, unrelenting in its indifference, and Tyler's world has shrunk to the confines of your hospital room.

Tyler sits by your side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but refusing to close. He's lost count of the hours he's spent watching the rise and fall of your chest, willing you to wake up. The constant beeping of the heart monitor and the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator are his only companions.

The rest of the storm-chasing team visits regularly, each holding onto hope in their own way. Boone leaves a fresh bouquet of wildflowers on the bedside table every other day, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the clinical white of the room. Dani brings her laptop, working quietly in the corner, refusing to leave until Tyler is forced to rest. Dexter makes sure Tyler eats, even if it means feeding him himself. And Lilly, with her unwavering optimism, often slips into the chair opposite Tyler, regaling him with stories and laughs to keep the darkness at bay.

One evening, as the crimson hues of the setting sun penetrate the blinds, Tyler is gently persuaded by Lilly to step outside the room, if only for a few minutes. The fresh air at the hospital's small garden is a reprieve he didn’t know he needed. He takes deep breaths, trying to shake off the weight that's settled on his shoulders.

As he walks back towards your room, he overhears a hushed conversation between two nurses. "It's been two weeks, and she's still fighting. It's remarkable," he hears one of them say. A glimmer of hope ignites in his chest. You're a fighter; you always have been.

Pushing open the door to your room, Tyler's heart skips a beat. One of the doctors, Dr. Emerson, is standing by your bed, reviewing the latest results. Tyler rushes in, anxiety and hope warring on his face.

"Any changes, Doc?" Tyler asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Dr. Emerson turns to him, a small, comforting smile on her face. "Her vitals are steadily improving. The brain activity shows promising signs. She's still in a coma, but these are good indicators. It’s just a matter of time."

With those reassuring words, Dr. Emerson gives Tyler a gentle nod before turning to leave the room, the other doctor following closely behind. The soft click of the closing door lingers in the air, marking the transition from clinical observation to personal vigil.

Tyler takes his seat beside you, gently holding your hand. "Hey, beautiful," he begins, his voice soft but steady. "I know you can hear me. I thought I'd share some stories, like old times."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Remember the first storm we chased together? God, we were terrified but so exhilarated," he chuckles. "The sky was this angry shade of gray, and the wind was howling like it was possessed. We had no idea what we were doing, but we felt invincible."

Tyler's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he continues. "You kept yelling at me to keep the camera steady while you took notes. I think I was too busy being amazed by how fearless you were. The tornado touched down so close, and we got caught in the downdraft. But you... you never lost your cool. You guided us out of there like it was just another day at the office."

He squeezes your hand gently, hoping for any sign of acknowledgment. "Then there was that time in Kansas. Do you remember? We were staying at that run-down motel, and the power went out during the middle of the night. We ended up sitting in the car, wrapped in blankets, watching the lightning storm. You said it was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

The corners of Tyler's lips lift into a sad smile as he recounts more memories. "You were always the brave one, Y/N. Like that time we drove into the eye of the storm. Literally. Everyone told us it was too dangerous, but you convinced us, and we did it. And I'll never forget the look on your face when we made it out in one piece."

A silence hangs in the air for a moment, the only sounds coming from the steady beeps and hums of the medical equipment.

"I'm not gonna lie, Y/N. These past two weeks have been the hardest of my life. Seeing you like this... it's killing me. But I know you're fighting. You always do," Tyler says, voice cracking with emotion.

Tyler leans closer, his head resting on the side of your bed. He speaks softly, almost to himself. "You know, Dani was telling me about how you kept her sane during her first storm chase. She said she wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you. And Boone, he's a mess without you bossing him around. Dexter too. None of us are the same without you."

He looks at your serene face, a fresh wave of determination washing over him. "But we all believe in you. We know you're coming back to us. And when you do, we'll be ready with stories and laughs and everything that's been missing."

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over the room, Tyler continues to talk. He recounts every little detail of your adventures together, from the funniest moments to the most heart-stopping ones, painting a vivid picture with his words.

The world is a foggy blur as consciousness slowly begins to seep back into your mind. The silence in the room is broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the medical machines. Your eyelids feel heavy as you struggle to open them, a sense of disorientation clouding your thoughts.

As your eyes finally flutter open, the dim light of the room gradually sharpens into focus. The first thing you see is Tyler, slumped in the chair beside your hospital bed. His hand grips yours tightly, as if even in sleep, he cannot let go. His face is etched with lines of stress and fatigue, evidence of the nights he has spent by your side.

For a few moments, you simply watch him. Even in his exhausted state, there’s an undeniable tenderness in the way he holds your hand. You notice the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble that has grown from days of neglecting himself. Deep down, an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wells up within you. You realize now more than ever just how much he means to you.

Gradually, you muster the strength to give his hand a weak squeeze, something to pull him from the depths of his weariness. His eyes flutter open slowly, confusion briefly crossing his features before they lock onto yours. Instantly, his face transforms—a mix of shock, awe, and profound relief.

"Y/N..." he breathes, his voice shaky and filled with emotion. Tears pool in his eyes, and you can see him fighting to hold them back, but it’s a losing battle. As the realization washes over him, that you’re finally awake, his tears begin to fall freely. "You’re... you’re awake. Thank God, you’re awake."

A lump forms in your throat, making it hard to speak, but you manage a small smile. "Tyler," you rasp, the single word carrying all the emotions you can't yet express.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing fervent kisses to your knuckles. "I love you, Y/N. I love you so much," he chokes out, his voice breaking with raw emotion. "I thought... I thought I’d lost you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the things I said. I was scared and I handled it all wrong."

You can feel the wetness of his tears on your hand, and it breaks your heart to see him in such pain. Gathering what strength you can, you shake your head slightly. "No, Tyler. We both did things we regret. I pushed you away when I should have let you in. But we can’t change the past. We can only move forward."

He nods, his teary eyes never leaving yours. "We’ll fix this. Together," he vows, his voice filled with a newfound determination.

Your smile grows a bit stronger, as you grip his hand with a bit more strength. "Together," you echo, the word binding the two of you in a promise of unity and hope.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Tyler repeats fervently, his tears now mingling with a relieved laugh.

You can't help but let out a light giggle, the sound so sweet to Tyler’s ears. "I love you, I love you, I love you," you reply, your heart feeling lighter for the first time in a long while.

Tyler chuckles softly, his expression softening as he looks at you. "I think the doctors are going to start charging me rent for how long I've been here."

You laugh weakly, the sound like music to his ears. "Well, as long as you don't start claiming squatter's rights. We might have to evict you."

His laughter mingles with yours, the room now filled with a warmth and happiness that seemed impossible just moments ago. "Deal. I'll leave when you do," he declares, his voice brimming with love and commitment.

The path to recovery will undoubtedly be long and arduous, but for now, the hardest part is over. The heavy cloud of uncertainty has lifted, replaced by a glimmering beacon of hope. The room, once cold and sterile, now feels warm, filled with the palpable power of your mutual love and commitment.

As the rhythmic beeping of the machines continues to fill the background, you and Tyler share a moment of silent understanding, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them hand in hand. "I love you," he whispers once more, the promise of these words a soothing balm to your soul.

"I love you," you whisper back, sealing the bond that will carry you through the days to come.

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