#I must simmer in my thoughts a bit more

[kitmon]

Guys, I literally had never thought this hard about Eddie and Sheena lmao! I ruminated all day, like I had a vague story in my mind but like 20 mins ago I had a fucking crazy idea and now it's the only one that feels right and is it a little crazy bonkers? yes, but do I want to retcon my previous ideas to pursue this one, a little bit, yes, but I feel like it won't be believable! Like I'd have to rewrite everything but mmmmmmm is it worth it? Or should I save it for another fictional kid? I might just have to do that GAH but I like this idea so much!

[cake-writes]

Just This Once

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, he gets lost in the sauce frfr, situationship… ish?, this man wants to RUN, disorganised attachment style (primarily avoidant), penis in vagina sex, teasing, edging (accidental), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Kakashi discovers that he has a breeding kink. It's kind of a spiritual experience.

Inspired by @rookie98writes's fic Leave It On

—

Kakashi isn’t used to the strange sort of domesticity that comes with being in a... whatever this is. It’s not quite a relationship. A situationship, maybe. He’d say it’s something more than friends-with-benefits, but the two of you aren’t really friends, either.  

You come together every now and then. That’s all. Like two passing ships in the night. 

So why is he standing in front of your stove, cooking dinner while you sort through the pile of unopened mail on your kitchen table? Why did he offer to water your plants while you were gone? Why does he want to do anything for you? 

Kakashi knows what it’s like trying to play catch-up after some time away from home—two months, in your case. He’d knocked on your door a few minutes ago with the intention of returning your key, and he must have caught you right after you got back from the store if the two bags of groceries on your kitchen counter were any indication. 

You looked so dead on your feet that Kakashi took over from there, unprompted. But now, as he stirs the pot of flavourful soup simmering away on the stove, his mind sees fit to wander.  

What the hell is he doing?  

He’s getting too attached. That’s what he’s doing.  

It’s that time again—time to cut and run, just as he always does when things start to become complicated. Kakashi makes a habit of ending any potential connection before it can even start, because he can’t afford to lose anyone else. He can’t get hurt if he never lets anyone in. It’s easier that way. 

“I need to schedule my injection,” you mutter to yourself as you read through one particular letter. Then you sigh and toss it back down onto the table, before you lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. “We should probably get used to using condoms again until I can book an appointment.” 

Your birth control must be overdue, then.  

“Sure,” Kakashi answers, feigning unbothered. The two of you used condoms in the beginning, but after a particularly gruesome mission that nearly saw him home in a box, Kakashi stopped reaching for the bedside drawer, and you stopped asking him to.  

He should have known then that he was getting too attached. 

Still, it’s your body. Whatever you want. He’ll end things in the morning either way. 

As Kakashi samples a bit of the soup he’s minding on the stove, pausing for a moment to add a bit more salt, it suddenly sinks in – really sinks in – what could happen if the two of you aren’t careful.  

He could get you pregnant. 

A jolt of arousal shoots through him.

Kakashi doesn’t want children, not now, not ever, which is why it doesn’t make a lick of sense that such a thing would turn him on. He likes the idea of his seed taking root inside of you. He might even enjoy it, the imagery his mind conjures—you bent over for him, begging him to give you a baby, your pretty yukata hiked up around your waist…  

His clan crest embroidered on the back of it.  

Kakashi swears.

You startle, looking over at him in alarm. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he lies. Then he proceeds to play it off like he burned himself, but he isn’t fine. No, that single thought, that single fantasy, scares the complete and utter shit out of him—but it turns him on even more, and that’s so much worse.  

He’s already too attached. 

—

Kakashi doesn’t do feelings. He has them, of course, much like any other person, but he doesn’t let them show very often, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them. He won’t say in so many words that he cares; instead, he shows you through his actions alone. 

His knees brush the underside of your thighs as he settles between your legs, bracing himself with one hand beside your head.  

What a vision you make, spread out for him like this.  

Your lamp had blown when you went to turn it on, leaving the streetlights to illuminate your features in a sickly hue of yellow-green. It isn’t romantic in the least, but he can’t help thinking that you’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment—maybe because it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see you like this.  

The sight of you, so needy and wanting, fills his chest with something bittersweet.  

The tomoe of his sharingan spins lazily as he memorises the curves of your body, the muss of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you work to recover from your first orgasm of the night. His fingers are still tacky with your essence, and he smears the residual wetness over the head of his cock.

“You should wear a condom,” comes your breathy whisper, but you make no move to stop him. Your eyes almost seem to glow as you peer up at him in the dark, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Mm. Do you want me to?” 

His question hangs heavy in the air. The only things Kakashi can hear are your soft breaths and the sound of his own steady heartbeat, which quickens with every silent second that passes.  

You want to say no, he realises.  

He wants you to say no. 

“I like it better without,” you answer quietly, and the implication isn’t lost on him. Not when you look up at him with those big doe eyes, like you don’t know the risk. 

Because there is a risk, and he knows it. Kakashi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night—wicked thoughts, terrible thoughts—thoughts of filling your fertile womb with his seed, thoughts of watching your belly grow round with his child, thoughts of seeing his clan sigil stamped between your shoulder blades like a mark of ownership. 

His.  

Against his better judgement, Kakashi does exactly what he shouldn’t do. He agrees.

“Just this once.”  

Just like he says every other time—except every other time, there's never been a risk.

Your coy little smile prompts him to lower down onto an arm and settle more of his weight on you. Kakashi dips his head to kiss you indulgently, savouring the taste of you, the feel of you beneath him. He kisses you like he hopes to convey just how much he missed you while you were gone, like you might be able to taste the unspoken words that linger in his mouth. 

He kisses you like he means it—and he does. That’s why he needs to go. 

As his tongue twines with yours, Kakashi fills you in a slow, beautiful glide that wrenches a whimper from your throat. He knows he should go easy on you, but he relishes in the rapid flutter of your walls as you struggle to adjust to him after so much time apart. A surge of masculine pride washes over him, tinged with a hint of guilt for stretching you open like this. He isn’t exactly small, after all, but you take him so well. 

To ease any potential discomfort, he smooths his hand up the silky skin of your thigh in a soothing caress, before he trails gentle, placating kisses along your jawline. “Is this okay?” Kakashi asks, voice low, only to be rewarded with a particularly strong contraction that makes his toes curl. 

“More than okay,” you sigh. 

As a test, he shifts his hips. When Kakashi hears your breath hitch, he knows that you can handle more.  

He starts slow, rocking into you sensually, but he already knows that he isn’t going to last. It’s been just as long for him, and you’re tighter than you’ve ever been.  

“God, Kakashi, you feel so good.”  

So do you. Kakashi sucks a bruise on your neck in response, if only to muffle the sound of his own pleasure when your perfect cunt clenches around him again.  

He needs to pace himself, or he’ll finish too soon—but then you ask him for more, and what else can he do but oblige you?

He speeds up, not overly so, just enough that both of you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of your lovemaking. The smell of your arousal permeates the air, and he’s tempted to have another taste. 

Later. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. “Did you miss me that much?” 

Maybe he’s reassurance-seeking – just a little – but your answering whine tells him what he already knows. 

He’ll miss this. He’ll miss you. That’s why he needs to go. 

Kakashi doesn't want to think about that. He just wants to enjoy what little time with you he has left.

“Stay with me,” you rasp. You’ve always been good at noticing when he’s stuck in his head, but right now, Kakashi can’t help but wonder if you’ve just read his thoughts. You see through him so easily. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

“Sorry,” he says with genuine apology, leaning in to capture your lips again. You let out a pleased hum into his mouth and lift your thighs up a little higher—an offering, one he’s more than happy to accept, even if he doesn’t plan to reciprocate your vulnerability.

It’s selfish, he knows. 

The new angle does something to him, or maybe it’s because he's well aware that it would be even easier to fill you up this way. He reaches deeper like this, and the tilt of your hips would perfectly hold his cum in place, increasing the chances that it’ll take. 

He wants it to take. 

Kakashi exhales a long, shaky breath. He shouldn’t want that as much as he does. He shouldn’t want it at all.  

“Close?”  

Yes, but he’s not going to tell you that. Kakashi pulls back to look at you, only to find you gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. It makes his heart ache.  

He stamps it down. “I could be,” he teases lightly—a non-answer. “Are you?” 

When you open your mouth to respond, however, he snaps his hips forward suddenly to make you trip over your words. “I—shit,” you swear, and his eyes shine with silent laughter. Your own narrow playfully as you add, “I could be too, if you keep that up.”  

“Really?” 

To pick on you a little, Kakashi withdraws from your tight heat more slowly than he has all night, agonisingly slowly, until only the head of him remains inside; and then he lingers there, purposely, until the stirrings of impatience start to take you over.  

It’s cute, the frown you give him, the pout he sees beginning to form. “Don’t be mean,” you tell him sulkily. 

His lips tug up at the corners, revealing a hint of prominent canine. “Maa, I didn’t realise you were in a rush,” Kakashi drawls. “And here I wanted to take my time with you.”  

Before you can read too much into what he’s just said, he slams home. Hard.

Your startled gasp brings on a flicker of self-satisfaction deep within. Kakashi relishes in the knowledge that only he can make you feel like this—especially when he starts to fuck you in earnest, prompting you to fling your arms around his shoulders.  

“F-Fuck, Kakashi, oh my god—” 

“That’s it,” he encourages gently. “Hold onto me.”

He likes the closeness of it, the intimacy.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, which brings about a funny feeling in his chest that he can’t quite shake—something warm and gooey and affectionate.  

Kakashi stamps that down, too, and traces the line of your neck with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin until you shiver. Seeing your throat so littered with love bites unearths something within him, something primal that he’s always refused to name. He likes seeing the marks he’s left on you. He wants them to mean something.

He wants them to mean that you’re his. 

He’s too attached. 

To distract himself from what he intends to do in the morning, Kakashi picks up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh as he drives his hips into yours, fast and rough, exactly how you want it.  

It won't last long. He’s too worked up. 

Kakashi knows he’ll come before you do if he continues like this, but when he tries to slow down, you dig your heels insistently into his ass. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, please—” 

“I’ll have to pull out soon,” he says raggedly, even though the thought of finishing in you already has him ready to blow.

When Kakashi feels you lock your ankles behind him, he nearly does.  

“I want it inside,” you whine, your breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear.  

His thoughts screech to a halt. You want him to come inside you, knock you up— 

“Fuck,” he curses, stopping abruptly, buried all the way to the hilt. His cock throbs wildly, desperate for release, forcing him to tightly grip the the sheets above your head in order to stave it off. 

If he moves right now, he’s done for.  

When you make a quiet, frustrated sound deep in your throat and wiggle your hips, Kakashi barely manages to hang on. He can feel that tell-tale flutter inside of you, the one that indicates exactly how close you are, but he’s closer. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants as he tries to hold himself together.  

You finish first. Always. 

“Don’t be mean,” you say again, but you sound a little more petulant this time.  

Kakashi lets out an exhausted sort of laugh and presses a wet smack of a kiss against your cheek, making you giggle. “You like it when I’m mean.”  

“I like it when you’re nice,” you clap back, voice breathy. 

Kakashi hums knowingly. “All right. I can be nice.”  

Then he pulls back just enough to pepper your face with kisses, and you squeal in delight, though it soon tapers off into a moan when he starts to trail them down your throat, each one more sensual than the last. He palms one of your breasts, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple— 

“Come on,” you whine, digging your heels into his ass a second time. 

No more teasing. You want him to be nice.

You inhale sharply when Kakashi picks back up where he left off, this time with quick, shallow thrusts that target your g-spot. He smooths his hand down your side, savouring the softness of your skin, then he slides it in between your bodies to rub your clit in just the way you like—the way he remembers you like, because he’s too fucking attached. And sure enough, when your hips buck from the added sensation, he knows that it’s working for you. 

“If you—If you edge me again, I swear to god—” 

Upon hearing the indignation in your voice, Kakashi laughs softly. “I won’t.” 

Then he remembers that he won’t have a chance to edge you again. Not after tonight. 

His jaw tenses at the reminder. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, holding onto him, needing him, which pulls him right back into the present. “Come with me. Please?” 

Kakashi bites back a groan and slides in deeper, readying to do what his body craves. 

No. He can’t come with you. He’d have to finish inside in order for that to happen. 

And just like that, he’s back to teetering on the edge. The filth his mind conjures nearly proves to be his undoing—a vivid image of your tight, wet cunt wringing out every drop of his cum until it takes, tying you to him, making you need him. Making you his. The threat of it simmers under his skin, but it’s starting to feel more like a guarantee. 

Get her there, then pull out. 

Kakashi repeats those words in his head like a mantra, over and over, like it’ll ensure that he lasts, and it works—at least until you start to move your hips in time with his thrusts. You meet him at the perfect angle, sucking him deep on every stroke, allowing him to slide just beyond your cervix and into that spot that sends your voice into a fever pitch. 

A choked sob escapes you as you rake your nails down his back, leaving red lines in your wake. The sting of it only sends him higher, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder to prevent himself from blowing too soon. 

“Right there, Kakashi, right fucking there—” 

Right there, so deep within you that if he came right now— 

He groans when he imagines what would happen, and it all ends with his baby in your belly and his family crest on your back. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, yet he fucks into you with purpose, now—hard, deep, powerful thrusts that knock your headboard into the wall. 

Kakashi knows exactly what that purpose is. The primal part of his brain won’t let him forget it. 

“Yes, just like that, fuck me, make me fucking yours—” 

He kisses you to shut you up, because if he hears another syllable, he’s sure to fill you to the brim. It’s not a gentle kiss, not now. He holds your head in place with a firm grip on your jaw, shoves his tongue into your mouth, and still, he recites his mantra. 

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then—  

You jerk your head away to gulp in a breath of fresh air, chest heaving from exertion, and Kakashi’s eyes sweep over your face for any sign of discomfort. What he finds is the opposite, and he drinks in the pleasured scrunch of your brows, the hazy flutter of your eyelids, the kiss-swollen state of your lips. 

Watching your muscles tense and strain as you struggle to keep your eyes on his is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced. “Come inside me,” you beg, and he can hear the desperation there, see it written all over your pretty face. “I need it, I fucking need it, Kakashi, give me your cum—” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he chokes out. Anything for you. Anything you want. 

The way your fingers wrench into his hair belies a hunger that matches his own as you drag him down for another kiss, messy and insistent, demanding that he make good on his promise to pump you full. He can feel the ripple of your inner walls as you come undone, feel the painfully tight squeeze of your legs around his waist, holding him there, ensuring that he stays; and never in his life has he felt so overwhelmed.  

He can’t pull out. Not now. Not when you’re so willing to milk him dry. 

Kakashi kisses you with everything that he is as he shoves himself impossibly deep inside of you, acting solely on instinct to drown your cervix in hot, sticky spend. He lets out a sound of pure male satisfaction that you eagerly swallow down, your tongue massaging his in tune with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself inside of you, painting your insides white.

It feels good. It feels right. 

He’s too attached. 

He doesn’t care. 

As he comes down from his high, all Kakashi can think about is how fucking risky it is, what he’s just done, which only ruins him more when the post-orgasm clarity finally hits. 

Why the hell did he do that?  

What the hell did he do?

Your thighs tremble and shake, a sign that he’s done his job well, though he feels no pride in it—just a growing sense of panic.  

He needs to go. He needs to go right now. Not tomorrow. Now. He needs to get the hell out of here and never look back, right fucking now.  

Then he hears your quiet sob, and his heart leaps into his throat. Kakashi jerks his head down to look at you, and when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, he actually does panic.  

“Did I—Shit,” he quickly pulls out to check on you, more attentive than he’s ever been, “Did I hurt you?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally hurt a woman during sex, but he really should have taken it easier on you. He probably went too deep, hit your cervix too hard. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I’m fine. I just... I really missed you.” 

Fuck. Don’t say that. You’ll make him want to stay.  

His eyes soften as they trail over your features – the colour of your irises, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips – and he gently smooths your tears away with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shake your head and offer him a watery smile. “I also came really, really hard,” you add matter-of-factly, and he huffs out a relieved laugh. It’s hormonal, then. “They’re happy tears, Kakashi. Calm down.” 

Teasing or not, someone telling him of all people to calm down is an otherworldly experience. The phrase lands strangely, and for the first time since he came to see you tonight, his thoughts quiet down to a dull background murmur. 

They’re happy tears, you said. 

You’re happy with him. 

He’s happy with you, too. He doesn’t want to go. 

You frown, then, and lean up onto your elbows to look at him more closely. “What’s wrong?”  

Kakashi can’t be sure what you see in his expression to warrant that sort of question, but the fight finally leaves him. He sits back on his heels and drags a hand down his face, feeling defeated for a reason he can’t explain.  

“I was just...” Happy, for a moment. Happy to be with you. “Worried,” he finishes lamely. He can’t look at you, not when he feels the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. 

You laugh and gently cup the side of his face, turning him back towards you. “Okay. Well, I’m fine,” you pat his cheek in playful reprimand, “but I am leaking all over my clean sheets, and it’s your fault, so...”  

That draws his attention. When Kakashi sees the creamy mess spilling out of you, his flaccid cock twitches with interest even after he remembers why his stomach is in knots.  

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, transfixed by the sight. 

He wants to do it again.

He shouldn’t want to do it again. He feels fucking crazy for having done it once already, when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship, let alone in any way prepared for a child. But again? A second time? He’d have to be certifiably insane. 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, and Kakashi wonders how the hell you can possibly be taking it so in stride. He came a lot. There’s so much of it dripping out onto the sheets that it’s starting to create a small puddle under your ass, and there’s even more inside of you—a lot more, judging by how hard he came. 

It might take. It might seriously take, and you think it’s fine? 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him, and his eyes snap back up to yours. He’s in his head again, you mean. Then you chew your lip for a moment, hesitation evident, before you ask carefully, “You’ve been acting a little… off tonight. Is everything okay?”  

Every single one of his instincts is telling him to run. That’s where this conversation always leads, but he’s not ready for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m fine.” 

When you frown at him, skeptical, Kakashi shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.  

“Okay. I won’t pry. But, um, I’m here. You know. If you ever need to talk.” You say it a little awkwardly, like you aren’t sure if he’d be offended by the suggestion, and the worried crease between your brows only grows at whatever you see in his expression. “Or... Or not.” 

You laugh nervously, then, and shift away from him, only to wrinkle your nose when more of his cum oozes out of you.  

It’s cute. You’re cute. 

“You said it’s fine. Why?” The question leaves him before he even thinks it through, but it’s too late, now.  

“What?” 

This wasn’t the first time he’s come inside of you, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly the riskiest. “I finished inside. Aren’t you upset?” 

“What do you mean? You finish inside me all the—” Then you stop, and your brows shoot straight up onto your forehead. “Wait, is this about my birth control?”  

“Well, it’s overdue, isn’t it?”  

You stare at him for a prolonged moment, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head. Then your nostrils flare. “Are you kidding me? You thought my birth control was overdue, and you still—” Scandalised, you slap him on the arm. “Kakashi!” 

Oh. Well. It must not be overdue yet, then. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him come inside if there was a chance that you might conceive. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“That’s so bad! What if you got me pregnant?” 

A lick of heat shoots up his spine upon hearing you give voice to what’s been on his mind all night. Kakashi stares at you, wide eyed, and blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.  

You study his face for a moment, before you purse your lips, looking a little troubled. Or pissed off. He can’t really tell. “I mean... Did you want to get me pregnant?” 

“No,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning hot because yes, he did, but not for real.  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, and...”  

And how the hell is he supposed to explain himself? Neither of you are exactly vanilla, you’ve explored a number of kinks together, but this is something else entirely. Then again, a breeding kink would make the most sense out of any, considering it stems from a biological urge to procreate. 

But would you even believe him if he said he only gets off to the fantasy of it, and not the reality? Because if a woman ever said that to him, he’d get the hell out of dodge as fast as he could. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips, then, a knowing smile, and Kakashi quickly averts his eyes to the window, embarrassed. 

“You like it, don’t you?” you hum, seductively walking your fingers along his bare shoulders. “You like the idea of knocking me up.” 

Refusing to look at you, Kakashi clears his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that comes on from your suggestive tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” The sheets rustle as you reposition yourself, and then, when your fingers delicately wrap around his cock, he inhales sharply and bites the inside of his cheek. “Then why are you so hard?”  

And he is, too. He’s already fully erect and ready for another round, and he knows that there’s no way to lie his way out of it anymore. As you start to work your hand over him in slow, sensual strokes, up and down, coaxing the answer out of him, his head drops back. “Because,” he rasps.  

The sheets shift again, and then you crawl into his lap. He welcomes you gladly, splaying his hand over your lower back to steady you, though he still can’t meet your gaze. He’s too embarrassed. 

“Because why?” you hum. Kakashi lets out a pleasured sigh as you kiss and suck your way up the side of his neck, stroking him steadily, before you purr into his ear, “Because you want to give me a baby?” 

A soft sound of approval rips out of his throat, and his cock twitches into your palm. “Don’t—Don’t say that,” he pleads. 

“Hm? Why not?” 

To hell with it. No sense in hiding it anymore. “Because I might actually do it.” 

“Yeah?” Your teeth tug playfully at his earlobe before you pull back to look at him, and Kakashi finally wills himself to meet your sultry gaze, humiliated though he is. “You know,” you muse, “I don’t like condoms for a reason. I wonder why?” 

The breath leaves his lungs with a whoosh.

Oh, he should have known. You’re just as filthy as he is. Of course you’d have a breeding kink, too, though he’s exceedingly grateful that you’d kept it to yourself until now. You’ve never been shy about sharing the things you enjoy, which means you probably figured out how he’d react. That’s the only explanation. 

He likes that you understand him as well as you do. 

He likes you.

“I think I might be able to guess,” Kakashi says knowingly, a smile playing at his lips. When he leans in to kiss you again, all he can think is: maybe it’s not a bad thing to be too attached. 

-

Snippet #1:

“You said it was overdue,” Kakashi tells you pointedly.

“No, I said I needed to make an appointment,” you correct, and he can see that you’re struggling not to laugh. “I still have, like, a week left on it. Ish. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

While you cook breakfast for the two of you, Kakashi wraps his arms around your waist from behind and traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.  “What if I don’t want to be careful?”  

He feels the shiver wrack your body, but then you do laugh at him. “Down, boy. Three rounds wasn’t enough for you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kakashi pulls you back against him, allowing you to feel the answer for yourself, hard and insistent against your ass. “You tell me.” 

-

Snippet #2:

Kakashi hides his face in your pillow, feeling distinctly vulnerable without his mask. “Don’t tease me,” he groans, muffled. “I have a delicate constitution.” 

You cackle at his discomfort, like the cruel woman you are. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m really, really curious.” Then you hum thoughtfully. “Do you want to know one of mine?” 

He lifts his head just enough to reveal one curious eye. 

You squirm a little, then, like you’re finally starting to realise exactly how embarrassing it is to talk about. “I, um...” A pause. “So, you know how...” Another pause, and you take a deep breath. “Okay. I like to imagine that I'm being used to—to repopulate a clan, I guess. Just, over and over. Lots of kids. But not for real.” 

He feels another jolt of arousal at your admission. 

Looks like you’re on the same page, then. 

Then Kakashi leans up onto his elbow to regard you properly, and then he lifts an eyebrow, as if to point out how closely that particular fantasy hits to home. 

That’s when you seem to realise who you’re talking to – the sole remaining member of a clan that could probably stand to be repopulated – and your eyes go wide, before you nearly trip over yourself to add, “It—It has nothing to do with your clan, specifically, Kakashi, it’s just—” 

“A fantasy,” he finishes for you, amused. 

 You worry your lip between your teeth and nod. 

“Well,” Kakashi says, considering his answer for a moment, “I might have imagined that, too. Specifically.” Then he gives you a roguish grin, intending to pay you back in kind for your teasing. “How many children do you think would be enough for my clan to be sufficiently repopulated, hm? I’m thinking eight.” 

Mortified, you bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god! Eight?” 

Payback’s a bitch. “Well, I was originally going to say ten, but—” 

When you squeal in embarrassment and yank the blankets over your head, Kakashi barely manages to stifle a laugh.  

—

A/N: This is the first thing I've posted in a hot minute, so your feedback would mean a lot - please let me know what you think :)

[starcrossedmusings]

Mine

Pairing: Hongjoong x Actress!Reader WC: 2.5k Warnings: smut (sexual degradation [reader is referred to as whore, slut, and hole], manhandling, tiny bit of spit kink, hickeys/marking, unprotected sex, use of a vibrator, oral sex [m receiving], light dacryphilia, spanking), swearing, jealous Hongjoong, possessive Hongjoong, established relationship, "good girl", probably some more that I missed (let me know)

Synopsis: You are an actress starring in a new drama, and fans online have been going crazy for you and your on-screen partner. After a particular scene goes viral, your boyfriend Hongjoong decides he needs to remind you who you belong to.

A/N: Requested by anon. I hope you like it!

The scene had gone viral overnight--one moment the drama you had been starring in was on the verge of cancellation, and now you were signing on for another season while your twitter blew up. The fans of the show were all in agreement: the season finale tension between you and your co star has sent a swarm of butterflies in their stomach. You had immediately called your boyfriend, Hongjoong, who was finishing up his world tour when you found out.

Hongjoong had wanted to be happy for you, and for the most part he was. But there was a nagging feeling that took root in his chest when he had watched that episode that he has no idea how to shake. He hadn't quite been able to pinpoint exactly what it was until Seonghwa pointed it out to him. He had been sitting backstage waiting for his turn in the hair and makeup chair, and was scrolling through the ship name tag on twitter with a clenched jaw. Seonghwa chuckled at his friend, immediately noticing the tension rolling off of him.

"You've gotta stop looking at all that shit. It's fine to feel jealous, but what you're doing now is gonna give you an ulcer."

Hongjoong continued his scrolling much to Seonghwa's dismay and determined that he was not jealous. No...he was fucking feral. The way you looked up at your co star was a look that should be reserved for him and him alone, and the likelihood of things progressing with the new season meant he needed to find a way to come to terms that you might be kissing this man. He was white knuckling his phone by the time his name was called. He just needed to get through one more night.

The following evening, you were lounging on your couch, silk pajamas on and a tv show playing. You were mindlessly invested in your show when you heard a knock at your door. You furrowed your brow, not expecting anyone at this hour. You paused your tv, and the knocking sounded again, but much more intense. You pad over to the door and look through the peephole, gasping and throwing it open in shock.

"Joong?! What are you doing here?" You throw your arms around your boyfriend's neck, tears springing to your eyes. "You must be exhausted, I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow morning?"

Hongjoong chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist, squeezing tightly and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I needed to see my gorgeous girl."

"I missed you."

"I missed you too, angel. Thats why I needed to see you--needed to do this." Hongjoong brings your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, tilts your head up, and kisses you deeply.

The kiss is intense--a clash of teeth as he surges forward. He pushes you back into your apartment and kicks the door shut behind him, not ever breaking the connection between his lips and yours. It leaves you breathless and dizzy, the fervor with which he's exploring your mouth with his own.

Hongjoong feels like his chest could explode at any moment as he teeters on the edge between wanting to explain himself and wanting to just take what he wants. But he forces himself to separate from you long enough to let you catch your breath. He plants rushed kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. He feels pride simmer hot and heavy in his veins as you sigh and tilt your head back to give him more access, your hands exploring the planes of his torso as he continues sucking at your neck. He chuckles as he feels your fingers slip under his t-shirt and trace along his skin.

"Did you miss touching me too, angel?"

The breath you loose from your nose is pointed, and he can tell his words are getting the desired effect. You nod, and he makes a tsking sound. "I need you to use your words."

"Yes," You breathe out almost instantly. Hongjoong smirks and starts kissing at your neck again, slowly walking you back towards your open bedroom door.

"Good girl. Missed how good you are for me" He mumbles into your neck, sucking a dark hickey into your pulse point.

"Fuck, Joong, easy! I have a shoot in a couple of days."

That sends his blood boiling. He pulls away from your neck, eyes dark and chest impossibly tight. He speaks lowly, maintaining eye contact.

"Worried your new boy toy will see?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, placing your hands on his chest as you halt your movement. You both stand on two separate sides of the threshold to your bedroom. "My what? What are you talking about?"

Hongjoong cocks his head, a dangerous glare taking over his gaze. "You know who I mean, angel. That asshole that has you so infatuated in your show. I've been looking at all the clips from your final episode. At the way you look at him. I'm not happy about it."

Realization washes over your gaze and he sees relief come flooding in. Wrong move.

"Oh you mean Christian? He's--"

Hongjoong grips your jaw roughly and forces your gaze to land on him, shock crossing your features at the harshness of his grip. He speaks with lethal quiet. "I don't want to hear you say his name. Ever." He steps closer to you, pressing his body against yours and gripping your hip harshly in his other hand. "Got it? You're mine. Nod if you understand."

He smirks as you nod, eyes all wide with shock and slightly glazed over. "There she is. Look at my good girl." He releases your jaw and smacks your ass firmly. "On the bed, angel. Hands and knees."

You turn and scramble over to your bed, planting your hands and knees firmly on the mattress. Hongjoong approaches behind you slowly, letting himself rake his gaze over your waiting form. He saunters to your bedside table, opening the drawer. He grabs your wand from the inside and smirks when he presses the button and finds it turns on. He quickly turns it off and turns to look at you.

"You left it on the highest setting?" He tuts, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you and holding the head of the toy up to your lips. He brushes it across your lips and tilts his head. "Angel, have you been a little whore while I've been gone?" He can see the way your breath catches and the embarrassed flush that starts creeping up your neck.

When you don't answer him, he smacks your ass again and growls out, "Answer me." He relishes in the way you yelp.

"Yes. Yes I've been a whore."

He smiles sadistically and tilts your chin so you're forced to look at him. "Whose whore have you been, angel? Your co-star's?"

You shake your head frantically. Hongjoong takes the wand and runs it teasingly across your clothed pussy, barely putting pressure and keeping it turned off.

"Whose whore are you then, angel?"

You take a steadying breath before you answer, focusing on not bucking your hips to meet the head of the inactive vibrator. "Your whore, Hongjoong."

He smacks your ass again, dropping the toy onto the bed and beginning to tug his sweatpants down to his thighs. "Damn right you are. And I bet my whore missed sucking this perfect cock, didn't she?" He stands and turns to face you, thighs touching the edge of the bed as his half-hard length springs free. You nod and lick your lips, staring up at him through your lashes. He tugs your hair, bringing you closer to the base of his cock. "Suck."

With the way you swallow him down greedily, Hongjoong thinks it's a miracle he doesn't cum immediately. Your mouth is so fucking warm, and the sounds of your gagging and choking alone could make him finish on a good day. He grips your hair at the root and forces your head further down until he feels your nose brush against his pelvis. He throws his head back and hisses out from between his teeth.

"Fuck yes. I missed your mouth." He lowers his gaze to look as you struggle to breath, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. His chest aches at the sight. "Awe angel, look at you. Trying so hard to stuff all of this cock down your throat. Such a good hole for me."

He doesn't miss the way your thighs clench together.

"You like being a hole for me? Like letting me use you?" He thrusts his hips into your mouth and almost loses it when you gag, a tear running down your cheek. He pulls you back and looks down as you gasp for air, coughing slightly. A trail of your spit is still strung between the head of his cock and your bottom lip. He forces you to look up at him.

"Open."

You open your mouth obediently, sticking your tongue out slightly. He pumps himself a couple of times, looking down as you wait patiently. He smacks the side of your face with his cock before spitting into your mouth.

"Swallow, whore."

He almost busts when you do without question, keeping your doe eyes locked on his fiery gaze. He pumps himself a couple more times, grabbing the vibrator and making his way to the other edge of the bed. He pulls your hips back into him, loving the way you squeal slightly. He pushes the flimsy material of your sleep pants and underwear down and runs a finger across your folds teasingly.

"You're soaked for me, angel. You really do love being a hole for me, don't you?"

You nod and whine, arching your ass back into him and savoring the way his cock brushes against you. You hear him turn the vibrator on, and gasp as he presses it firmly against your clit. The high setting sends you reeling almost instantly, and he harshly grips your hips to keep you in place.

"Whores take what they're given, angel. And right now, you're going to take everything I give, and you're going to thank me for it, aren't you?"

You cry out at the intense feeling building in your core, whining and sinking the upper part of your torso further into the mattress. "Yes oh god yes!"

Hongjoong smirks and runs a hand down your spine as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes in torturously slowly, and groans when he sinks in to the hilt. He circles the vibrator in tight circles on your clit, watching as you shake and thrash below him. He grips your hair again, pulling harshly until your ear is in line with his lips.

"I'm going to fuck you now, angel. And you aren't going to cum until I say you can." He feels you clench around him and nips harshly at your neck. "Ah ah, none of that angel. I'm not going to move until I know you'll be a good slut for me."

The vibrator is still pressed against your clit, and it takes everything in you to still your hips long enough to give him what he wants. You whimper and nod, trying to focus your breathing. "I'll be so good for you. Please."

All of Hongjoong's restraint snaps, and he pushes you roughly into the mattress, setting a brutal pace. The snap of his hips has your whole body rocking back and forth, each thrust hitting that special spot deliciously. He keeps the vibrator firmly on your clit, and you quickly feel your legs begin to shake as pressure builds rapidly. You're a whimpering mess beneath him, and Hongjoong feels like he's on cloud nine as you begin to squirm and writhe. He grips the base of your neck with his free hand, throwing his head back and relishing in the way your pussy sucks him in greedily.

"So. Fucking. Perfect. For. Me." He punctuates each word with a thrust, taking out his anger from the past 48 hours on your abused hole. "Would your co star make you feel this good, angel?" He growls out.

You whine again, long and high, as your shake your head. The sound is muffled by the plush mattress, but the sentiment makes its way across perfectly. Hongjoong coos and mocks you. "No? Awe, angel, whose cock are you gonna fall apart on, hmm?"

The choked "yours" that flies from your mouth sends Hongjoong completely over the edge. He snaps his hips even harder into you, circling the vibrator and hissing as you clench onto him like a vice. "Thats right, this pussy is all mine, your orgasm is all mine. You. Are. Mine." His thrusts lose their rhythm briefly before he cums, groaning loudly and gripping your neck impossibly tight. He resumes his normal rhythm shortly after, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. Your whole lower half is trembling and he continues fucking into you, whines and moans flowing freely from you.

"Gonna fuck all this cum back up into my pussy, angel. Take it."

"Joong I can't hold it anymore," you whimper, "please let me cum!"

He leans down, pressing his body into yours as he goes impossibly harder. "Does my whore want to come all over my cock?"

You throw your head back, arching and whining, "Yes! God yes please let me!"

He chuckles lowly and circles the vibrator again, sending shock waves across your core, "Go ahead then, whore. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel."

Your orgasm crashes over you violently, profanities mixed with Hongjoong's name ripping from your lips as your whole body shakes. The pleasure has you seeing stars, and it's almost like you can't breathe as it peaks. Hongjoong fucks you through the entire thing, growling lowly in your ear as he thrusts, "Fuck, you're squeezing me so good, angel. Thats it."

As your orgasm ebbs away, Hongjoong slows to a stop and removes the toy from your clit. Both of you are breathing heavily, and he kisses the back of your shoulder gently. He stays buried in you as you collapse onto your forearms and takes a moment to stare down at how wrecked you look. He swears to himself that you never look more perfect than you do in the afterglow. He runs a hand down your spine and removes himself from you, taking note as his cum spills out of you and down the inside of your thighs.

"Stay there, angel. I'll be right beck."

He breathlessly stands and moves to your attached bath, wetting a washcloth and returning to gently clean you up. He chuckles lightly as you jump when he brushes against your folds and teases, "Feeling sensitive?"

"Fuck off." You breath out. He laughs and tosses the washcloth to the floor, pulling you into him as he collapses beside you. He kisses the top of your head. "How are you feeling, angel?" He marvels as you turn to look at him, pupils blown out and his marks on your neck.

"I'm feeling like I should make you jealous more often." You joke.

He huffs a laugh through his nose and nuzzles into your neck.

You're going to be the death of him.

[chilling-seavey]

The Patriarchy (gr63)

↳ A/N So @sadiethekoala encouraged my curiosity of dabbling in writing/posting my 'darker' kink content so...here you go 🫣

↳ Summary: Of course George is a feminist; but who is he to deny you when sometimes you just want him to treat you like his property.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 3.5k

↳ Warnings: 18+, NSFW, light drinking, patriarchy kink (major fetishization of traditional gender roles), arguably free use kink, breeding kink, heavy degradation and dumbification and objectification (name calling like 'slut', 'whore', and 'bitch'), spanking, spitting, hair pulling, restraining, dirty talk, choking, rough unprotected sex, aftercare is NOT written in this fic but take it that it will be IMPLIED (aftercare is a MUST after intense and degrading scenes like this!!!).

George had been proud of you for as long as he had known you. You were a hardworking and determined woman and he loved seeing you pursue your career so strongly and passionately. It was honestly one of the things George admired you most for. You weren’t someone to take anyone’s shit and certainly not when it came at the expense of your beliefs, passions, or those you cared for the most.

In a man’s world, you pushed the boundaries of what a woman was capable of and George, of course, backed you every step of the way. Especially while so invested in a vastly male-dominate sport such as Formula 1, George only grew more and more aware of the prejudices and disparities that were hidden between the lines. And, in such, he always made himself publicly viable as someone who believed in equality without bounds.

Behind closed doors, that very same belief lingered. In your Monaco apartment, you equally divided up household chores and tasks, shared the responsibility of cooking, and came to mutually agreeable terms that made your life together that much more enjoyable and refreshing. A relationship built on trust and equality, it was the balance of give and take that left you both as strong as ever. 

What came with the ease of your relationship was open communication and, with that, a bit of a pre-disclosed agreement from months before that George had figured you had forgotten about. It was something said haphazardly one night when the two of you were wine drunk and cuddled up on the living room floor; a little secret you had been harbouring, whispering to him plainly about your deepest desires. Your smiling confession was something so unlike your natural persona that for a moment he had thought you were entirely joking. But you were serious, pleading with him that if he ever saw you donning that vintage blue gingham dress, that he had your unspoken consent to push the hazy boundaries into a roleplay vastly different from what you were familiar with sharing together. George agreed to your terms and thought it wouldn’t ever really come to fruition. 

It was a joke, he was sure of it. No fiercely independent woman such as yourself ever wanted to be treated under such taboo, out-dated, and almost cruel mid-century gender roles. Right? 

Until on Thursday night when George came home from media duties just about the time you had finished making dinner, finding you donning that sweet 1950s gingham dress and matching white kitten heels. It was the last thing he had expected to come home to, falling to a surprised stop as he entered the apartment to the smell of a delicious meal waiting for him. 

You smiled over at him in the foyer and hurried over to take his jacket off of him, “Welcome home, love.” 

“Hello.” George said slowly, letting his arms slip out of his collared jacket as you carefully pulled it from his shoulders. His suspicions were simmering as you leaned in to kiss him once before hanging up his jacket in the front closet. He asked a tentative, “What’s all this for?”

You tucked your hand in the crook of his arm and led him over to the table that was neatly made up with two place settings, “I figured you had a long day at work and wanted dinner as soon as you got home.”

“Yeah...that’s nice.” George said, testing the waters a little. 

He sat down and watched you walk over to the bar cart to pour him a drink, topping it with a few ice cubes before bringing it back over to him. You set the short glass in his hand and left a kiss to his cheek and headed into the kitchen again, your heels clicking over the hardwood floors. George watched you silently, sipping his drink and leaning back in his chair with his left hand drumming a slow quiet pattern on the mahogany table top as you bustled around the kitchen to finish up. 

“You look pretty today, love.” he tried. 

You smiled to yourself as you plated the food, “Thank you, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t far out of George’s mind that he wanted to marry you one day - although he always told himself that was for years in the future - but there was something about the stereotypical domesticity of it all that seemed to...enlist a change in him. At first hesitant about carrying through with your agreement, he suddenly felt a flutter of something curious deep within him, wanting to try this out for himself. And if you wanted it? Who was he to deny you that? 

“Was work alright?” you asked sweetly as you brought over two filled plates and set them on the table. 

“Yeah, it was hectic.” George set his half finished drink down on the table and pushed his chair back a little to lead you onto his lap. You obeyed, perching yourself on his thighs, staring at him quietly as he eyed you up. His blue eyed gaze traced the side of your dress up to the clothed curves of your breasts and then across your collarbones, your neck, and jaw, finishing at your rouge painted lips. He swiped the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and pulled it down gently to watch it fall back into place, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” you replied, your voice a sweet drawling purr as your arm draped around his shoulders, manicured fingers toying with the seam of his Mercedes team shirt. 

Your soft words made a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth and he set his hand down on your thighs right at the hem of your dress, patting your lap gently before he gave a gentle squeeze to your flesh. 

He pressed you on with a cheeky, “How much?” 

“Way too much,” you answered, an angelic smile on your lips, knowing exactly what you were doing when you punctuated your reply with a, “sir.”

That word always snapped something in him, digging right down to his raw desire to just have you at that exact moment the three letters fell from your sweet lips. 

The sudden speed at which he moved made you gasp, forced off his lap as he stood. He pushed you right up against the edge of the table until the edge was pressing right against your pelvis and your hands fell flat against the wood surface. The filled plate rested, steaming, between the frame of your hands. 

“Is that so?”

He was right behind you, his body pressed up close and his breath right against your ear. His hands slid down your straight arms before resting right on top of yours, holding them down on the table. 

“Is that why you wore this pretty little dress for me?” 

“Yessir.” you breathed shakily, your heart already racing with anticipation. Your home cooked meal sat warm on the plates in front of you but any appetite for real food was gone; you were too busy craving him instead. 

“Yeah?” George growled against your ear as he pulled up the bottom of your dress, having to take a few handfuls to successfully bunch up the dress and the voluminous petticoat underneath. When he had enough of the fabric in one large hand, he used his other to slap down hard against your ass.

The sharp spank echoed through the apartment and you gasped forward at the impact. It wasn’t often that George got rough with you - he was more the sweet and gentle type within his passion - so the rare times the more dominant side of him came to the surface, you capitalized on it. Especially now, when something much more intense seemed to have come over him, like he was really ready to go all out to give you exactly what you had confessed to him that you wanted. 

You withered as he pushed his hand around your waist and under the bunched up fabric of your dress to slide over the front of your panties, pressing his whole hand down on your pussy, the heel of his palm right over your clothed clit. His lips met your neck in sloppy kisses, moaning lowly as he felt how warm you were under his touch while he sucked hickeys into your skin and breathed you in completely.

“Baby…” you whispered, “What about dinner?”

“I don’t want it.” he reached around you and shoved both plates to the side and out of the way, clattering the cutlery and a fork fell to the floor in his bit of an aggressive rush. He then bent you forward over the table and spanked you hard again, “I want my pretty little housewife to take my whole fucking dick while I fuck her like my own personal little whore.” 

You could have sworn you could have dripped down your thighs at his demand, biting back your eager grin as he held your head down against the table by a tight grip at the back of your neck. He spanked you again with his other hand, once, twice, a third time. A pink handprint was undoubtedly appearing on the curve of your bum where he hit you. Unperturbed, George just linked his finger in the thin fabric of your panties to pull the waistband higher, giving him a full canvas of your perfect ass for him to slap his palm down harder. 

“Please.” you squeaked out. 

“Please what, my love?” George pressed, groping your ass before spanking you hard again. “I hope you’re not trying to tell me what to do right now. You know who’s in charge here.”

You let out a little whimper in silent submission, your cheek still pressed to the table top from where he held you down. George then linked his finger around the lace of your underwear and followed the fabric right down between your legs where you were already soaking through the material. 

“Really missed me, huh, sweetheart?” George taunted, gently pinching your clit to pull a sharp gasp from your throat. Then, without warning, he grabbed the thin material of your panties in his fist and tore it right off you. 

The slight sting of the ripping fabric over your hips and the rough grunt that left his chest with his strength had your teeth sinking tightly into your bottom lip through a small whimper, hands still pressed flatly to the table top on either side of your head. 

“Fucking hell,” George chuckled darkly, lifting up the puffed skirt of your knee length dress again to keep it bunched up around your middle, “you look so fucking pretty like this.”

“Please, sir.” you breathed, pushing your hips back on him until the front of his slacks were pressed up snugly between your legs. 

You could feel the bulge in his pants and how it was pulling the fabric taut. It made your mouth water, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip again with a small hum, desperately grinding back on him to somehow get him right where you needed him most. 

“God, you’re such a pathetic little slut, my love.” George tisked, slapping his hand down on your ass one more time before shoving you forward again, trapping you entirely between his body and the edge of the table. He kept you there firmly while he worked to unpin his belt, the faint clinks of the metal buckle and what it implied had your pussy fluttering in anticipation. With his belt undone and slacks unzipped, his large hands groped your hips and followed your desperate motions back against him, grinding against you a little more with your feet planted securely on the floor in your kitten heels. 

George didn’t even strip completely, he just pushed his pants and boxers down to the tops of his thighs just enough to pull his dick out and then he was shuffling up close behind you. 

“Please, fuck me. I need you so bad, sir.” you whined. 

“Listen to you, sweetheart; calling me ‘sir’ like a submissive little bitch.” his voice was low and gravely, full of lust. 

He took his hand from the back of your neck to, instead, wrap around your throat to pull your chest off the table. This way, he could lean forward and brush his lips over the shell of your ear while his dick pressed teasingly up against your entrance, feeling the way your body shivered at his words. 

“Yeah, you like me calling you my little bitch?” George purred right into your ear, his hot breath falling against your neck and raising the hairs on your arms while his fingers squeezed the sides of your throat, “Wearing this pretty little dress...making a shitty little meal to get my attention...just asking for me to fuck you stupid.”

“Yeah.” was all you could whine out, lashes fluttering. 

“Yeah?” he mocked you tauntingly, barely giving you a moment's warning as he pushed inside you strongly. 

Your mouth fell open in silence as he stretched you out, letting out a soft little squeak at the pressure he spread across your hips. Your hand squeaked across the wood table as you tried to find something to hold onto, ending up reaching up to grasp his wrist.

“Fuck.” George huffed stiffly, his hips flexing against yours, tightening his hand around your throat. “Love this tight fucking cunt.” 

He started rocking into you slowly at first, savouring each stroke as if to feel you all, to give you every inch, and his slow breaths fell against the side of your face warmly. 

“So good.” you whimpered, pushing back on him in steady time, “You’re so big, sir.”

“Yeah, you love my cock, don’t you, sweetheart?” he spoke lowly, “Been waiting for this all day, huh? Wanting me to come home from work and fuck you full?”

“Yeah. Please.” you cried, pressing your palms down harder on the table top as he sped up. 

He shoved into you a bit harder, grunting hard against your ear until all you could focus on was him; the stretch he pushed through your body, the smell of the light alcohol on his breath and his familiar cologne that still dotted his shirt from that mornings application, and his hand around your throat. 

“Oohh, God.” you squeaked out, mouth falling open as he took you over the side of the dining room table. 

“Good girl.” George said lowly against your ear, his salacious words a lustful chant, “My good little housewife...good little fucking whore. So pretty and submissive for me. Gonna let me fuck you how I want, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir, please, please, please-” you begged shakily. 

“Yeah?” George pulled your head back by your throat, finger and thumb pressed right up under your jaw to hold you tightly. 

Your head was almost bent entirely back to look at him upside down, your mouth agape as a flurry of pleasured sounds tumbled from your lips uncontrollably. He fucked the sounds from your throat with practiced ease, the dishes on the table rattling with every firm ram into your body as he took you how he pleased. 

You squealed loudly, hands rolling into fists on the table top as tears pricked your eyes through the painful pleasure he expertly pushed through your whole body. He held you in place with one hand fisting your dress and petticoat over the small of your back and the other squeezing your throat until your mouth was falling open through little gasps. 

“That’s it.” George groaned, pulling your head back towards his shoulder before he was pinching your cheeks between thumb and forefinger to spit loudly in your mouth. “Want me to put a fucking baby in you, sweetheart?” 

The words were unexpected but the way your body clenched so hard around him that he almost lost it right then and there was his answer enough. He shoved two fingers in your mouth and picked up speed a little more, groaning hungrily against your cheek

“Yeah, you do. Gonna get you nice and full and pregnant. My pretty little wife’s gonna look so good knocked up.” 

“Yes, sir, yes, sir, please-” you mumbled through his fingers, words barely sensible as you drooled down his palm involuntarily as he kept you gagged. 

“Oh my God, baby.” George gripped you tighter, fucking you harder and faster until the table was nearly scraping across the hardwood floor with every thrust. “Gonna make a fucking mess of you...cum so fucking deep inside you. Gonna knock you up like my good little bitch.” 

“I need it! Fill me up, baby, please!” you cried messily, clawing at the table as your pussy pulsed strongly around him. 

“You need it?” he cooed, “You need me to cum inside you? To make you a mommy? Hm?”

All you could do was stumble out a chant of, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-” 

In one swift movement, George pulled his fingers from your mouth and tangled his hand in your hair to shove you down against the table again. You caught yourself on your forearms with a squealing gasp, sliding forward under his controlling hand until your chest was flat to the table and your fingers could wrap around the opposite edge of the table. The slick lewd sound of your skin colliding filled your modest apartment as he ravished you from behind, harmonized so prettily with your shared breaths and moans. 

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart.” George spoke through his teeth as he held you face down on the table, “Show me how good I can make my pretty little wife feel while I pump her full of cum.” 

His other hand slipped around your waist under the plethora of fabric from your dress without faltering the firm thrusts he gave you. His fingers were easily coated in your slick wetness as they blindly found their way between your legs, making it almost effortless for him to rub easy circles over your clit. You fell perfectly silent at his added touch, gripping onto the edge of the table even tighter as you felt that indescribable warmth coiling strongly within you. In seconds, your eyes were nearly rolling back and your toes were curling in your heels as you came around him, gasping and panting and moaning as your body clutched right down on him like a vice. 

“That’s it!” George groaned loudly, shoving into you faster and more desperately to help you draw out your orgasm, “That’s fucking it, baby. I’m gonna put so many babies in you…show off that you’re mine. My perfect little cockslut housewife. Begging to be fucking knocked up. Shit-” 

Oversensitive from your orgasm, his aggression had you whining loudly, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. He wasn’t letting up, taking exactly what he wanted from you, just how you had begged him to all those weeks ago in your tipsy confession. Your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure that bordered on the precipice of pain, unable to control the way you cried out until your voice echoed through the apartment. George slapped his hand over your mouth.

“Take it.” he ordered through his teeth against your ear, “You’re gonna take my whole fucking load until you’re dripping like a pathetic little bitch.” 

You whined into his warm palm and felt him twitch inside you as your muscles pulsed around his thick length. 

“Fucking...take it.” 

George came hard, bucking into you sloppily through loud moans and grunts. His eyes scrunched closed through it, fingers pressing you harder into the tabletop as he shot thick warm spurts deep inside you. You could only grab onto his arm as he filled you up, withering behind the erotic feeling of him claiming you completely. His moans were heavenly and you nearly came a second time at the overwhelm of it all and his hand that was wrapped around the back of your neck only tightened as he finished. 

He let you go after a second and you pushed yourself up from the table, your arms straight and hands flat as you glanced back at him over your shoulder. George’s lips grazed your jaw and he left a few lazy kisses over your skin as you both took a moment to catch your breaths, lingering in the post-orgam bliss together for a moment longer. His hands ran down your sides warmly and you let out a shaky sigh. 

George then reached a hand up to gently tilt your chin towards him with a soft, “Come here.”

You kissed him sweetly, sharing lingering kisses with his dick still pressed up nice and deep inside you. After a few moments, he leaned back to look at your face and he gave your hand a squeeze before shifting back from you and pulled out slowly. Your body ached as he left you empty but his fingers pressed themselves between your legs instead. 

He could feel your heartbeat right there, not to mention how soaked you were, dripping his cum out and onto his fingers, hidden under the skirt of your dress as it fell back down around your thighs. George left a little kiss to your shoulder when he finally pulled back and he gave your bum a little pat before he was zipping up his pants again, 

“Order us a pizza, sweetheart. Dinner got cold.” 

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[daisymbin]

do you like me? - yoon jeonghan

warnings: as usual, alcohol as it is part of the drunken series , use of "she"

pairings: yoon jeonghan x reader

genre: friends to lovers, tiny bit of fluff, jealous jeonghan

wc: 2.2k

a/n: i cant believe its 2.2k wc, i was only aiming for 1000 minimum LOL. also im sorry yall, I feel like this fic didn't show more of 'drunk jeonghan' but I tried my best so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this one! also I miss yoon jeonghan :(

drunken confessions masterlist

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

jeonghan had always been playful with you. his teasing was a daily occurrence, a steady rhythm in the chaos of your shared lives. whether it was his shameless compliments, sly smiles, or that way he always seemed to invade your personal space, it was his favorite game; to make you blush, to get you stumbling over your words. he was drawn to the way you’d turn red, to your quiet flustered reactions. for him, each shy smile, every averted gaze was a little victory, he savoured each & every one of them.

but today was different.

you’d bitten off more than you could handle, volunteering to organize tonight's dinner without realizing the work it entailed. you thought it was easy; I mean, its just dinner right? but you forgot the part where its for 14 people. part of you wanted to ask jeonghan for help, he was resourceful, organized, and probably the best person for the job. yet, just the thought of sitting with him, of his teasing comments while he leaned close to look over the details, made you anxious. you could already imagine his smirk, the inevitable, “oh, so you do need me,”  that would tumble from his lips. the thought alone had your cheeks heating up, so instead, you turned to seungcheol.

“hey, cheol,” you called, catching his attention. “could you… help. me with tonight's dinner planning? i’m a little overwhelmed.”

seungcheol looked at you with an easy smile. “of course. what do you have in mind so far?”

you settled beside him, going over the checklist you’d made. seungcheol was focused, nodding along, giving practical suggestions. his presence always easy and comforting for you.

meanwhile, jeonghan had wandered into the room just in time to see you sidle up to seungcheol. his eyes narrowed slightly, taking in how close the two of you were, your heads bent together, deep in conversation. you laughed at something seungcheol said, and jeonghan felt his chest tighten. he was used to your flustered, shy reactions, but this was different. with seungcheol, you looked comfortable, relaxed: in a way you never were around him.

the more he watched, the more that flicker of irritation grew, a quiet jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. he didn’t realize he’d been clenching his fists until he caught seungcheol looking at you with that friendly smile, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. something inside him snapped.

walking over, jeonghan put on his usual casual smile, but there was a tightness to it. “am i interrupting something?” he asked, his voice light but with a sharpness that made you and seungcheol look up.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, not missing the tension in jeonghan’s expression. “just helping out with the dinner tonight,” he said, meeting jeonghan’s gaze evenly. “she needed some help.”

jeonghan’s gaze flickered to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “really? you needed help?” he echoed, the emphasis on ‘you’ just sharp enough to make your cheeks flush. he turned back to seungcheol, his voice dropping. “you must be really busy to spare the time, huh?”

seungcheol gave a small chuckle, clearly unfazed. “never too busy for a friend,” he replied, his tone pointed, as if daring jeonghan to say something else.

jeonghan’s jaw tightened, and he forced a thin smile. “that’s good,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “after all, friends should help each other, right?”

he moved closer, positioning himself between you and seungcheol, and leaned over to glance at your notes. “you could’ve asked me, you know,” he murmured, his tone a mix of annoyance and something sharper. “i thought you knew i’d make time for you.”

you looked down, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “i… i just thought you might be busy,” you lied, not daring to meet his gaze.

“busy?” jeonghan echoed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there was no humor in it. “funny. because it looks like you had plenty of time to find seungcheol.” he let out a low chuckle, but it lacked his usual warmth, sounding more like he was biting back something he didn’t want to say.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watched the exchange. “jeonghan, if you wanted to help, all you had to do was say so,” he said, his voice calm but pointed. “i don’t mind stepping aside.” seungcheol; knowing jeonghan's crush on you, was annoyed that jeonghan saw him as a threat.

jeonghan’s gaze hardened for a split second, and he gave a stiff shrug. “no, don’t worry. wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes,” he replied, a hint of sarcasm slipping into his voice. he turned back to you, his expression softer but still tinged with frustration. “but angel, just next time, maybe try asking me first?”

he glanced at seungcheol, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he noticed the small smile on seungcheol’s lips. 

dinner 

dinner that night started lightheartedly enough, filled with jokes, the clinking of glasses, and shared laughter. you were seated across from jeonghan, who seemed quieter than usual, eyes not quite meeting yours. the earlier tension from the day still lingered like an invisible thread between you.

as the evening went on, seungcheol seemed to gravitate towards you, his hand resting casually on your shoulder as he laughed at one of your jokes. every now and then, he’d lean in close to say something only you could hear, his warmth pressing into your side. it was the kind of natural, friendly touch that seungcheol was known for, but tonight, under jeonghan’s watchful gaze, it felt heavier.

jeonghan’s eyes darkened each time seungcheol’s fingers brushed yours or his arm draped over the back of your chair. his usual playful smirk was replaced by a tight line, the humor in his eyes dulled with an emotion he didn’t bother hiding anymore. the casual sips of wine he’d been taking turned into longer, more frequent gulps, his hand clenching the stem of the glass as if it were the only thing anchoring him.

“you’re really good at making everyone laugh, you know that?” seungcheol said with a grin, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. you giggled, warmth flooding your cheeks at the compliment, oblivious to the way jeonghan’s jaw clenched from across the table.

“cheol, i think its just you, no one else thinks that." you said as you hit seungcheol's chest playfully. & by "no one else" you really only meant jeonghan because he's sitting there, not a hint of humour on his face. but your gesture towards seungcheol & the added alcohol in his system, heightening his senses only made jeonghan’s frustration spike. the easy way you interacted with seungcheol, so comfortable, without a hint of the nervousness you usually had around him. it felt like salt in an open wound.

jeonghan finally set his glass down with a sharp clink, drawing everyone’s attention. his smile was there, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “seungcheol, you’re really good at making everyone feel special, don't you?” the question was laced with a bitter edge, masked just enough to pass as playful to anyone who wasn’t paying attention.

seungcheol raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension but choosing to play along. “well, someone’s gotta keep the mood up, right?” he chuckled, his arm going back to rest on your shoulder. the familiarity in his posture made jeonghan’s blood simmer.

“right,” jeonghan said, his voice deceptively light as he pushed back his chair and stood up, the scrape of wood against the floor sending a jolt through you. he rounded the table, stopping just behind your chair, his hand landing on the back of it with a grip that made you glance up at him in surprise.

“mind if i steal her for a second?” jeonghan’s tone was polite, but the look he shot seungcheol was anything but.

seungcheol’s eyes narrowed slightly before he let out a short laugh, leaning back and lifting his hands in mock surrender. “by all means,” he said, but the knowing glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

jeonghan leaned down, his face close to yours, voice low enough that only you could hear. “we need to talk,” he murmured, and the way his fingers brushed against your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine.

“o-okay,” you managed to say, your heart thudding in your chest as jeonghan’s gaze bore into yours, filled with an intensity that left no room for argument.

the room around you seemed to hold its breath, the chatter and laughter fading as jeonghan’s jealousy, simmering all night, finally bubbled to the surface.

jeonghan stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze weighing heavily on you. the lighthearted banter that usually flowed so easily between you was replaced by a thick tension that felt almost suffocating. you could feel your heart race, unsure of what was coming, but dreading it all the same.

“i need to get this off my chest. it’s been eating at me all day.” he said, his voice low and shaky,

you swallowed hard, the unease swirling in your stomach. “what is it?”

“do you like seungcheol?” 

“what? no, he's just a close friend.” your voice loud and clear.

“good. i don’t want to see you with anyone else,” he confessed, the liquid courage had him spilling words out in a rush, as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “not seungcheol, not anyone. it kills me to watch you laugh with him, to see you so at ease when you’re with him.” his eyes glassy.

you opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off, frustration lining his features. “do you have any idea how much it hurts? every time you go to him instead of me, every time you ask him for help instead of me? it feels like you’re choosing him over me, and i can’t stand it!”

the heat of his words struck you like a slap, and you recoiled slightly, your heart aching at the rawness of his confession. “jeonghan, it’s not like that. i didn’t mean-”

“but it is!” he interrupted, his voice rising with emotion. “why is it so easy with him for you? you say he’s just a friend but when you need help, he’s the first one you think of? when we were sitting round the table for dinner, you just had to sit beside him? i’ve tried to brush it off, to act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. i like you. like. a lot. i really really like you. and seeing you with him makes me feel like i’m losing you, which is stupid because you were never mine to begin with but it feels like you’ll never see me as anything more than just a friend. and it tears me apart. it just. hurts. do you even think of me? do you even think about me?” 

his voice cracked on the last words, the vulnerability laid bare in front of you. your chest felt heavy as you took in the pain etched across his face. “jeonghan, i-”

“no,” he said, shaking his head, anguish flooding his expression. “you don���t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same way. i just… needed you to know how i feel. i’ve been holding this in for so long, and it’s exhausting. i can’t keep pretending that it doesn’t matter to me when it does.”

your heart raced as you processed his confession. you could see the hurt in his eyes, the fear of rejection bubbling beneath the surface. “i… i do care about you,” you finally managed, your voice trembling. “but i was scared to admit it, we’re so…different.” jeonghan’s eyes softened for just a moment, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “then what do we do now?” he asked, the vulnerability seeping back in, but now mixed with an edge of despair. “because watching you be happy with someone else… i don’t think i can handle that anymore. so tell me, do you…do you like me?”

his question brought silence, it hung between you, thick with tension and jeonghan's raw vulnerability that shows his uncertainty, but within it was a glimmer of hope because jeonghan knows what your answer is when you locked eyes, he saw the way you looked at him. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

whatever was in the magic somaek as mingyu called it when he handed it to you was definitely working, because out of all the times jeonghan teased you to no end & his endless friendly flirting that left you shy & red, this has got to be the one time you really ought to be running away with the way he's looking at you.

so tell me, why is it that when jeonghan pulls you closer by your waist and looks into your eyes as if asking for permission for god knows what, why do you nod your head twice with great certainty? & when jeonghan smiles so wide, bringing his left hand up to your neck to pull your body flush against his own and kisses you on your lips, why do you kiss him back?

[gilverrwrites]

Summer Loving

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Roy, & Tim.

AN: Have a lot of lengthy and/or smutty wips on the go atm and I can feel them bogging me down a bit, so I decided to take a break and work on some short summer themed slice of life/domestic fluff to cleanse my palate. I feel I must apologise for my gratuitous and obvious Roy Harper thirst but I wont, enjoy!

CWs: Some are more suggestive than others, reader discretion advised. Minor swearing and minors swearing, mentions of alcohol. GN! Reader

Bruce: Tan Lines

It’s moments like these where you wish Bruce didn’t have to spend his nights on the endless pursuit of justice. You knew what you’d signed up for, but you’d missed him all day and god, the feel of his strong fingers massaging after sun into your skin was euphoric. Would you be such a bad guy for trying to convince him to stay home?

“I like this.” His hum pulls you from your train of thought, and you look down to see his fingers trailing against the tan line your shorts had caused. He spares you a quick suggestive glance, the look a wolf might give a rabbit it’s particularly fond of before dipping down to replace his hands with his mouth.

“Ohhh, stay home tonight Brucie?” The look he gives you this time maintains its warmth but there’s an air of warning to it. Despite his simmering combativeness, you add a charming “Please?”

To that he lifts his head, just far enough to deny you of his lips, but close enough that his low voice still seems to reverberate through your body as he speaks. “Crime doesn’t take the night off, neither can I.”

“I know.” You sigh, admitting defeat before the battle has even begun, and he rewards you by assuming his barrage of kisses to your lower body.

“Just don’t go out too early.” You advise, trailing the tip of your finger from ear to ear, estimating the line where his Batman cowl ends. “Don’t want to get any tan lines of your own.”

“Trust me.” There’s humour in his tone now as he works his way upwards, ghosting his 5 o'clock shadow along the skin of your stomach as he prowls closer. “The evening is young, and I have plans for you yet.”

Dick: A/C

The A/C is broken. Again. To combat the heat the whole household has resorted to wearing nothing but their underwear, except of course for Haley who is always naked. Lucky dog.

Additionally, all the windows are open in an attempt to let the cool night air circulate the humid apartment but all it’s really doing is letting in the ambient sound of Blüdhavens boisterous nightlife and countless flies.

“Want one?” Dick asks from the kitchen spaces as he digs into his second ice pop since dinner, you joke about envying his metabolism despite knowing damn well that’s not the real reason for his physique. Although between the food and the heat-induced skipped workout, he’s bloating, just a little bit; the tiniest, most delicious bit of plumpness and you can’t take your eyes off of it. “Are you checking me out?”

“Always.” You reply with a brazen smile, continuing your laser-focused stare even as he begins approaching your spot on the couch.

“How about you stop looking and start touching, huh baby?”

“No.” You finally cease your objectification of his stomach to look him in the eyes. The intended sternness in your tone is stifled by the way his icy confection has turned his lips blue. “I already told you, no sex in this heat until the air con is fixed.”

Despite your posturing, you don’t fight his closing proximity, nor do you stop him from dragging his cool-raspberry-stained tongue along the length of your throat, it’s still cold from the half-eaten lolly and the sensation sends a welcome chill through your body. As inefficient as it may be, you much prefer this method of cooling down to an A/C.

Jason: Sunrise

The metal grate of your fire escape is surprisingly cool against your bare feet. It’s early, pre-sunrise early but the air is still thick, a combination of the arid summer heat and steam of the cities underground. Despite the unpleasant temperature, you settle onto the grill, with nothing but a pillow for comfort and two ice-cold glasses of lemonade.   

When 15 minutes pass, and you start to notice a growing tinge of orangeness in the sky, you start to worry you’re being stood up, or worse; something awful has happened. Something that would prevent him from coming home, but then you hear it; The heavy steps of Jason’s steel-toed boots approaching from your apartment’s rooftop.

You glance up just in time to see him dropping down. A loud clang rings out as he hits the floor, causing the whole structure to vibrate and you wonder if he does that every night, surely not, there’s no way you could sleep through it or that your neighbours wouldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you sweating balls?” You ask, taking in his gear as he sits down beside you. The boots, the cargo pants, turtleneck, jacket, gloves, and the full-face mask.

“Nah.” His voice is muffled by the headpiece until he takes it off, shaking his head to support his answer. “It’s weird but I’ve kinda run cold ever since I died, you know?”

Obviously you don’t know, in fact having felt his searing, naked skin pressed to yours on multiple occasions, you highly doubt him, but you nod regardless and hand him his drink. Unlike a man on the chilly side, he chugs half of the icy drink in one go and you wonder if he’ll ever stop jumping from buildings and telling white lies to impress you.

“Want some help warming up?” Before he can respond you lean up, brushing your nose against his and watching as his lids flutter closed in anticipation, his breath is cool on your lips and when you finally press into them you can taste nothing but the tartness of the lemonade. Regardless, it’s heavenly; soft and tender. Every kiss with Jason makes your heart flutter in the same way it had the first time.

When he pulls away you chase after him, eyes only opening to meet his heterochromatic irises when your pursuit for more becomes an abundant failure.

He’s grinning as he tells you; “We’re missing the sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” You answer, trying again, and this time succeeding in drawing him in for another kiss.

Roy: Paddling Pool

If ever anybody asked you to describe a moment of pure domestic bliss, this moment would be a strong contender. Your lower body is submerged in a paddling pool as you bask in the sun, enjoying the occasional splash of water caused by Lian’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancing beside you. She too is basking, but hers is under an endless stream of hose water being directed by her father; Roy, who is watching the two of you from a sun lounger, hosepipe in one hand and a non-alcoholic beer in the other.

He's quite the vision, no shoes, no shirt, just tastefully tacky swim trunks and his iconically worn-out grey baseball cap that may be protecting his head, but is doing little to tame his mop of fiery hair. From this angle, you’ve got a great shot of some of his lesser-seen tattoos, but every time you look over at him you find yourself far more smitten with the countless freckles that adorn his chest and shoulders, made darker and more noticeable by the recent heatwave.   

“How’s the Heineken?” You ask, genuinely curious how he’s enjoying his first taste of alcohol-free booze.

“Crap.” He replies, lips briefly curving into a self-amused smirk before dropping to woefully panicked as you both turn to look at Lian. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have been listening in, content in her own toddler babblings. Relieved, he turns his attention back to you and corrects himself. “Um, not good babe.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” You offer your condolences, but he seems completely unbothered.

Instead, he turns the glass bottle around in his hands a few times before chucking it over his shoulder. It sails through the air before seamlessly landing in the open bin by your backdoor. Your concern about it leaking into the rest of the recycling is seconded by how impressed you are. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times his trick-shot hit, you’re always at least a little bit captivated by his impeccable aim.    

“It’s cool, hon.” He shrugs and leans back into the lounger. His eyes flicker back and forth between you and his child, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face. “Got everything I need right here.”  

Bonus:

Hours later, you’re sorting through the soggy contents of the recycling as Roy scoops Lian up in his arms and takes her sleepy frame inside. The sun is still high and bright, but it’s past her bedtime, and it’s been a long, exciting day for her. He dries her with the softest towel he can find, careful to pat down every pruned finger and toe before putting her to bed.

“How was your day, sweetie?” He asks, strong fingers petting her soft hair to help soothe her to sleep.

“Crap!”   

Tim: Ice Cream

Tim is still sleeping off a rough, muggy night of crime fighting as you circumnavigate the boat's sad excuse for a kitchen. The bags under his eyes had been growing darker each day under the stress of hunting down a mysterious new bank robber. You’d hoped to lift his spirits by surprising him with a tub of homemade ice cream, but so far all you’d managed to make is a mess.

After having a falling out with the thrifted ice cream maker you’d stuffed in the back of a cupboard months ago, you settled for hand mixing. By the time you put the concoction in the freezer to set, your wrists are aching, and Tim has begun to stir. You’re just finishing up the dishes you’d created when he finally emerges from the bedroom in shorts, flip-flops, and a not-so-summer-appropriate hoodie.

Before you can offer a ‘good morning, Timmybear’��his arms are around your waist, pulling you close from behind and settling the weight of his sleepy head on your shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asks and then he’s licking what you can only assume is a stray splash of the mixture from your cheek with the bravery only a man raised by Batman could possess. It could have been literally anything. “Banana?”

“Chunky monkey actually.” Goddamn. Surprise ruined in less than a minute. Oh well, at least you can give him something to look forward to. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ice cream without you, I made it for you.”

“I figured.” He hums, sounding so very drowsy despite the ease with which he manoeuvres your body against the kitchen counter so he can keep you close while brewing his morning tea, occasionally planting soft kisses to the side of your neck as his hands move absentmindedly. “You’re the best, you know that? Can’t wait to try it.”

“You figured? How did you figure?” You skip right past the justified praise; he’d been practically comatose since 4 AM, how could he have figured?

“It’s on the ceiling.” He’s right, you look up to see a cream-soaked walnut lodged above you and let out a dramatic sigh as you fall deeper into Tim's arms.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

[atinyslittleworld]

09:12

yunho x f!reader

Summary: Yunho’s protective instincts surface when a persistent stalker confronts Y/N, revealing his possessive side and sparking unexpected emotions.

Word Count: 2,5k

Genre: angst, fluff, protective yunho

Warnings: yunho becomes a bit possessive, creepy guy can’t take no as an answer

Yunho was halfway through a story about one of Wooyoung’s latest antics when he noticed Y/N’s mood shift. She wasn’t laughing like she normally would, her posture tense as her eyes darted toward the cafe entrance.

He followed her gaze and immediately spotted the source of her discomfort—a man standing near the door, staring at her with an unsettling intensity.

Yunho’s jaw tightened. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

Y/N hesitated, her hands curling around her coffee cup. “Yeah. That’s him.”

She didn’t need to say more. Yunho had heard about this guy—the one who wouldn’t take no for an answer, who conveniently kept “running into” her and acted like her boundaries were negotiable.

And now, here he was, heading toward their table like he owned the place.

Yunho leaned forward, his calm demeanor hardening into something sharper. “Stay close to me,” he murmured, his voice low but commanding.

Before Y/N could respond, the guy reached them, his smug expression making Yunho’s blood simmer.

“Y/N,” the man greeted, ignoring Yunho entirely. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

Her polite smile was strained. “Hi. Yeah, just grabbing coffee with a friend.”

The guy’s eyes flickered to Yunho for the briefest moment before returning to Y/N. “You didn’t reply to my texts,” he said, his tone almost accusatory. “I thought maybe you lost your phone or something.”

“She didn’t reply because she’s not interested,” Yunho cut in, his voice calm but firm.

The man’s gaze finally shifted to Yunho, sizing him up. “And who are you?”

Yunho didn’t miss a beat. “I’m her boyfriend.”

The declaration was so confident, so absolute, that Y/N’s breath hitched. Before she could process it, Yunho reached across the table and took her hand, his grip both reassuring and possessive.

“Boyfriend?” The man scoffed, clearly skeptical. “Since when?”

“Since it stopped being your business,” Yunho replied coolly, his sharp gaze locking onto the guy like a warning.

The man’s smugness faltered, but he wasn’t ready to back down. “Well, you must not be that serious if she’s never mentioned you.”

Yunho’s lips curled into a cold smile, and he leaned closer to Y/N, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Serious enough that I don’t appreciate someone making her uncomfortable. So why don’t you walk away before I make you?”

The guy stiffened, his expression darkening. For a moment, it seemed like he might argue, but something about the quiet intensity in Yunho’s voice made him think better of it.

“Whatever,” the man muttered, turning and walking out of the cafe.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe he actually left.”

But Yunho didn’t relax. His eyes followed the man through the window, watching as he lingered just outside, stealing glances back at their table.

“He’s still there,” Yunho said, his voice low and tense.

Y/N’s heart sank. “Why won’t he just leave?”

Yunho’s grip on her hand tightened slightly, his protective instincts flaring. “If he wants a show, I’ll give him one.”

“Yunho, you don’t have to—”

“Trust me,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before she could say another word, Yunho shifted closer, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. The warmth of his palm sent a jolt through her, and her breath hitched as his thumb brushed over her skin with deliberate softness.

His face was so close now that she could see every detail—the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the way his lips parted slightly as he spoke. “Look at me.”

Y/N’s gaze snapped to his, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t used to this Yunho—the one who seemed to command the room with nothing more than his presence, the one who was both calm and utterly unyielding.

“He’s watching,” Yunho murmured, his voice low and intimate. “Let’s make sure he knows you’re not available.”

Her breath hitched as his nose brushed against hers, the contact so soft yet so deliberate that it made her heart race.

“Yunho…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Trust me,” he said again, his thumb trailing down to her jaw.

And then, just when she thought her heart couldn’t pound any harder, his lips hovered over hers, so close that they almost touched. The softest graze of his tongue against her bottom lip sent a shiver down her spine, the sensation so fleeting yet so electric that it left her completely breathless.

Her eyes widened, her pulse racing as her body froze under the weight of his touch. She couldn’t tell if this was still part of the act or if Yunho was crossing into something deeper, something real.

Outside, the man’s expression twisted with frustration before he finally turned and walked away, disappearing down the street.

“He’s gone,” Yunho murmured, his voice soft but steady.

But he didn’t pull away. His thumb continued to stroke her jaw, his forehead resting against hers as his warm breath fanned across her lips.

“Yunho…” Y/N’s voice trembled, her mind spinning.

His dark eyes met hers, and for a moment, the world around them faded. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, though her cheeks burned and her heart felt like it was trying to escape her chest. “Yeah. Thanks for… whatever that was.”

His lips curled into a small smile, but there was something unreadable in his gaze—something intense and unrelenting. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I’m not going to let anyone treat you like that.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her thoughts racing. She’d always known Yunho was protective, but this? This was different. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her—it wasn’t just protective. It was possessive.

“You didn’t have to go that far,” she said, her voice shaky as she tried to lighten the mood.

“I wanted to,” Yunho replied simply, his tone so sincere it made her heart ache.

She studied him, her gaze searching his face for answers. “You’re… different than I thought.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Different how?”

She hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. “You’re usually so calm and laid-back, but when he showed up… it was like you became someone else. Someone more… commanding.”

Yunho’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “You’ve never seen me like that because I’ve never needed to be like that around you. But when it comes to people I care about…” He trailed off, his thumb brushing against her cheek again. “I don’t hold back.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, the weight of them settling in her chest. “Yunho…”

He finally pulled back slightly, though his hand lingered on hers. “Finish your coffee,” he said, his tone softening. “I’ll take you home after this. I don’t trust that he’s gone for good.”

Y/N nodded, her thoughts still spinning as she picked up her cup. As she sipped her coffee, she couldn’t help stealing glances at Yunho, wondering if she’d just seen a glimpse of the real him—the one who was calm and low-key on the surface but fiercely protective, quietly dominant, and completely mesmerizing underneath.

For the rest of the afternoon, she couldn’t shake the memory of his touch—or the way his tongue had grazed her lip, leaving her wanting more.

[haikyu-mp4]

A middle blocker’s pride

word count; 1375 – f!reader

Life can be difficult. Accepting that your brother was moving to Paris and leaving you behind to handle your last year in high school alone was difficult. Getting into university and managing that along with a part-time job was difficult. Going on terrible dates in an attempt to follow the herd and find a mediocre partner was difficult.

But dating Suna Rintaro was easy.

He didn’t put that much energy into anything, except now and then when he made sure you knew he loved you. This year, that included two tickets for a romantic trip to Paris for your summer holidays. You had time off school and he had time off from the team, and you were especially thrilled because that location meant you could see your dearest brother again and introduce him to the love of your life.

Rintaro knew who your brother was, and he had told you that they played against each other once or twice in high school. You hadn’t been very into the volleyball scene and didn’t make it to most of the games, but you had laughed heartily at how Rintaro described Tendo Satori’s frustrating tactics.

Concerning that, you had called your brother and detailed exactly who you were in a relationship with, and he had revealed that he and Rintaro were rivals, seemingly destined to meet again but this time through you. You had laughed at that too, assuming it was just their competitiveness speaking.

But now you stood in front of the door to Satori’s apartment in Paris, hand-in-hand with Rintaro who held a large bouquet for the host, and you’re beginning to think that your boyfriend is putting a lot of energy into this.

Satori opened the door and you threw your arms up for a giant bear hug. “Satoriiiiii!” you cheered, laughing as he squeezed you before putting you back down.

“Miracle girl, and you-” Satori gasped dramatically when he finally made eye contact with a half-smiling Rintaro. “So we meet again,” he added like some Disney villain.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you under more, uhh-” Rintaro glanced at you and back at your brother. “pleasant circumstances.” He held out the flowers as well, hoping to silently hand them over.

“For me?” Satori asked as he ushered you inside the apartment before closing the door and engaging on a mission for a flower vase. “I see you’re charming your way into both Tendos’ hearts, but I must disappoint you. I can not steal you away from my dearest sister when she is so smitten with you.”

Rintaro laughed, a bit awkwardly you must admit, but still followed along into the kitchen. “Here I thought I scored a two for one,” he joked, and let me tell you, Satori cackled at this.

“Idiots. And don’t tell him I’m smitten! It’ll just go to his head,” you complained. Satori laughed as he stuffed the flowers in a much too plain vase for your taste, but it’s all he had for now. Satori scrunched his nose at you before going back to the food that was just simmering.

“I never really asked, how did the two of you meet?” Satori asked.

You and Rintaro looked at each other, and you had no choice but to tell the story yourself when you saw his smirk if only to ensure no unnecessary details were added or even made up. “I’ll tell you, it was quite the meet-cute.”

During your second month in university, you went to a volleyball game on a failed first date and that man was just plain nasty. When the game ended he kept whispering in your ear about taking you home to his place with a hand clutching your thigh, not particularly seducing when his breath could stink up the whole room. You excused yourself to the bathroom in a nervous rush, and as you tried to escape from him, you ran into Suna.

He looked up from his phone as you stumbled back a bit, and his eyes widened just a smidge when you mouthed ‘help’. You got nervous as his face seemed to stay apathetic until your date grabbed your arm from behind you and he finally stepped in.

Suna switched to a glare and directed it at your date. “So this is the man you’re trying to make me jealous with?” he said, and you tried your hardest not to focus on how attractive his voice was. Instead, you looked between the two a bit nervously. Suna seemed to notice your lack of following up. “You know I still love you,” he said and looked back at you.

You took a deep breath and turned to your date. “I’m sorry, I realise now that I’m still in love with him too.” It was said so robotically that Suna could swear he had never seen a worse actor in his life.

Thankfully, your date looked Suna up and down and decided it wasn’t worth it, scoffing before leaving you alone. “You’re not hot enough for this.”

You let out a deep sigh and closed your eyes, not yet noticing Suna’s smug grin. “I think you’re pretty hot, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“So basically, it was love at first sight,” you concluded, giggling as Rintaro started pushing your arm in protest.

Satori couldn’t deny the ache in his heart when you looked at Rintaro with the same adoration you used to hold for him, but it was accompanied by warmth as he knew you were loved the way you should be. He sighed dreamily at the end of the story, “Ahh, young love.” He finally moved the pots with the finished food over to the dining table, placing them on the coasters. It smelled pretty good, but you were more excited for the dessert.

You and Rin sat on one side of the table while Satori sat on the other, and Rintaro struggled with getting into the conversation. As he watched Satori tell stories about his life in Paris, he thought back to their previous meeting.

Suna breathed out sharply at the distant voice of the opposite team’s middle blocker, who was singing his heart out about crushing their spirits and breaking their hearts. Osamu laughed at his teammate, patting his shoulder harshly. “Letting him get to ya, Sunarin?”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he turned towards the redhead, also realising they were walking back on the court now. “A weirdo like that? Never.”

When Tendo rotated in front of him next, Rintaro scowled at the sight. He was dancing around after blocking their spike as if that was some great achievement. Suna could probably have played a better decoy for that one, but he found himself more annoyed with Atsumu for letting the guess-monster toy with their spikers.

So when he finally had the ball set for him, he used his classic tactics to twist and shove it right down on their side, not giving Tendo a chance to stuff it. As they landed back on their feet, they were face to face and the redhead squinted when Suna smirked. “You annoy me.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Now, as the three of you were only halfway through your dinner because you kept laughing and yapping away, Rintaro finally let a soft smile fall on his lips. When you were with your brother, you seemed so… like yourself. It made him genuinely happy watching the two of you joke around, and he thought, maybe people who let themselves be a little weird are better off in the end.

So he jumped right into the conversation by adding onto one of Satori’s jokes, and the other man cackled again and pointed at Rintaro in something akin to validation. A warmth enveloped him when your hand found his on the table, rubbing your thumb over his skin and looking to the side at him with the warmest smile he ever received. He couldn’t help himself and leaned in for a quick kiss, making Satori pretend to gag before assuring you he was just joking. Rintaro laughed before holding up a napkin to cover you as he went in for a second one.

This wasn’t such a bad way to spend his energy.

masterlist

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 4

Part 1 here.

John lets the men simmer for two days. Mostly he lets their trip to his seamstress ride to see if they brought it up to him. They didn’t. Guess he would be playing this the sly way.

“Found an old quilt from my grandmother when cleaning out my mum’s house last leave.”

Johnny’s brain sparked on the word association just as John hoped it would.

“Found out I can get my family kilts fixed up and preserved. Met a pretty lass who runs a shop that said it was a possibility.”

“Oh?” John folded his arms across his chest, encouraging Johnny to go on by tilting his head in interest.

“Yeah, pretty bird, kicked us out when we started asking about-”

He cut himself off pretty quick but John gave him a small scary smile.

“Asking about who, Johnny?”

Johnny started to back up, hands raised as he babbled his excuses.

“Finish your excuses and go get the guys.”

Johnny turned tail and fled from the room. His muppets filed in the room, Johnny getting forced by the neck by Simon who glared down at him. Must have wanted to keep this a secret. Should have known better than to tell Johnny. The man couldn’t keep a non-life-threatening secret to save anyone’s life. Kyle and Gary slid in after the duo.

“Muppets. You will leave my seamstress well enough alone or I will make it a problem for you.”

“So she is yours?” Gary piped up from the side.

Shooting him a glare John continued.

“I am grown enough to not explain myself to the lot of you, but if I get a call again about any of you bothering her I will make it everyone’s problem.”

Kyle smirked and spoke out one side of his mouth.

“Seems like Price can’t get a date.”

“Kyle I swear to my god and yours I will make you disappear if you keep it up. If your clothes go missing, just know they will be back. Now get out of here the lot of you.”

His men shared smiles and eye contact.

They hustled from the room when he picked up his blackened coffee mug to throw at one of them.

“Fucking muppets going to send me to an early grave. I don’t even have her phone number yet,” he mumbled to himself as the back of them disappeared.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

You think about John far more often than you should. He is a customer. Yes, he sleeps in your chairs and smiles at you in a way that pulls his cheeks to the moon, and yes he makes your heart flutter the tiniest bit but, but he is a customer who has never shown interest and you refuse to make someone feel uncomfortable in your shop. Your shop was a safe space, for everyone. Your flags are on clear display, so many, many flags, made sure of it.

He stepped through your thoughts carelessly. When you were wandering a superstore you somehow ended up in the camping section. A clearance foldable cot caught your eye and left the store with you. You maneuvered it into your tiny car and into the shop without allowing yourself to question why you had bought it.

John appeared two mornings following your purchase. You smile, wider than you should, at him.

“Hi John, welcome back! Got anything new and interesting for me today?”

Did you sound too chipper?

“Nothing crazy, one of my men needs a mask fixed.”

“Do you always bring in their items? I hope they are paying you at least,” you joke as you take the offered mask.

Spreading it on the counter you look it over, a tear over one ear and one from the eye portion. Both are decently easy fixes but would require your ring light and some time with a hand needle.

Looking up you offer John another smile. Fuck, can you keep the smiles to a minimum? He is going to think you are weird and then stop coming by.

“This shouldn’t take terribly long, I would say maybe an hour?”

John knocked one knuckle against the counter as he nodded. With both hands on the armrests, you remembered the cot in the back.

“Oh, John!”

He paused, ass halfway lowered into the seat.

“I..uh..” you stammer to a stop, unsure of how your words might be received.

“Yes?” He lifts a single brow at you, body not shaking as he waits.

Tucking one arm to your chest and the other to your mouth you speak from behind it.

“I found a cot. I brought it to the shop for you to use if you wanted?”

The words rush out of you, mumbled by your hand, and the speed by which you hurl them.

John stands, moving to stand next to the counter where the floor changes, noting the difference in customer space vs working space.

“What was that dove?”

Tightening your lips before biting the inside of your cheek you force yourself to say your words again. Slower, clearer you speak.

“I have a cot for you. In the back, so that you can sleep.”

His face goes blank as he blinks at you.

He looked a bit like a 404 code in the flesh.

A small smile breaks across his face as color spreads up his cheeks.

“For me?”

“Well,” you tighten both arms around your middle as you reply. “No one else seems to pay me for the privilege of sleeping in my shop, so yes?”

John rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

You awkwardly stare at him. What do you even say now? Do you invite him to lie down? No that sounded weird.

“Do you-”

“Why don-”

You both started and stopped at hearing the other’s voice.

Spinning on your heel you turned towards the storage room, confident John would follow. Popping the door open you can do nothing more than point to the cot, still covered in tape from the store.

John slides by you, chest brushing your arm and shoulder as he does. If you have to fight back the urge to take a bite? Well, he would never need to know.

“I can set it up for you if you don’t mind?” John looks back over his shoulder at you.

Knowing you are beet red you can only nod.

“I bought it for you but didn’t get a chance to,” you gesture at it as if your vague motion will explain all your thoughts.

John’s smile, eyes crinkling and shoulders softening, melted your heart.

“I’ll take care of it and then take a good nap. My men have started to comment that I am nicer to them after I get a nap here.” He knelt, pulling out a pocket knife and slicing open the package.

“Your men?” You lean against the door frame, unabashedly watching. “What is it you do for work John?”

“Special forces, I’m a captain. I lead a group of myself and four other men.”

“Well, that would explain a lot of the smells.”

He looks up at you, brow cocked.

“Smells?”

“Like fire, gunpowder, sweat, sometimes fear.”

“You get a lot of smell knowledge here?”

“I get a lot of everything here,” you shrug, unable to articulate how no matter how clean a piece of cloth some lingering smells clung.

John turns back to his task. You spend far, far too long watching him. The way his shoulders dip and arms change shape as he uses them. When the cot is built and John stands he turns and catches sight of you, you give a panicked smile and flee for the counter where you had left the mask.

Slamming your body into your chair you turned on your ring light, pulled your black thread, and focused diligently on fixing the holes you had been asked to address. John did not reappear for nearly an hour. You had finished the mask sooner than that but had not yet found the fortitude to go and wake him.

The creases on his face matched the lines on the shoulder of his shirt, and the slight drool stain.

“Right on time?”

You smile and nod.

“Well let’s settle up and I will find a reason to be back in a few days.” John returns to the customer side of the counter, sure of himself and you.

“You don’t have to pay me to come nap if that is all you need,” you start.

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“My men are hard on clothes. If I can get you some business I feel less bad about using you for some shut-eye.”

Supposing you had to accept that answer you unlock your tablet and complete the transaction.

Once his card clears you pass over the mask.

“You’re jewelry box should be done by Christmas.”

He drops the statement as if he forgot to bring it up until now.

“Christmas should be fine, I don’t have many plans though I will be out of town the week of Christmas proper. I will be visiting my grandmother.” Paternal grandmother since your mother was not allowed to visit, but no need to mention that.

“We will have to find some time to ensure I can get you the gift then,” he smiled as he said it.

“I told you I would pay for it John,” you chide.

With a shrug, he tucked the mask into his pocket and stepped back from the counter.

“Can’t pay me for a Christmas present dove.”

With that, he waved and pushed through the front door.

“The hell I can’t,” you spoke to the empty shop.

Part 3 | Part 5

Masterlist

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆ SLEEP AID ! - choso / 10.13 / kinktober

CW: fingering, female receiving, oral sex, they're housemates, fem bodied reader, she/her used, choso might be ooc bc i've never written for him lolll Word Count: 1.9k Author's Note: sorry for the late chapter but hi guysss lol i hope you enjoy the eighth post of my kinktober series! ily all sm MWAH <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated

as choso walked up the familiar steps to his apartment, a hint of excitement simmered under his calm exterior. his week-long trip with yuji had been fun, but he’d missed the quiet comfort of home—and his housemate, y/n. returning a day early was a small indulgence, an excuse to surprise her and share a rare moment of normalcy between them.

when he unlocked the door, the silence in the apartment suggested she was out. he left his bag by the entrance, his footsteps quiet as he wandered down the hall. passing by her slightly ajar bedroom door, he was about to keep going when a soft, muffled sound caught his attention.

curious, he paused, listening. through the narrow gap in the door, he could make out y/n lying on her bed, eyes closed, hands drifting over her body with a slow intensity that left little to the imagination. her breathing was heavy, and the way she whispered his name—soft, needy—sent a jolt through him.

choso’s mind whirled as his pulse quickened, and he found himself rooted to the spot, caught between the urge to back away and the magnetic pull of the scene unfolding before him. he swallowed hard, the intimacy of her whispered sighs mingling with an unexpected rush of his own feelings. he hadn’t realized she felt this way, and the realization brought a mix of excitement and confusion surging through him.

torn between retreating to give her privacy and making his presence known, he eventually took a shaky breath, deciding to step back. he made his way to the couch, sinking into it with his mind buzzing, trying to shake the image and sounds from his head. but her soft murmurs lingered, and he felt himself more keenly aware of his own need for her—a need he’d long hidden behind his usual laid-back demeanor.

a few minutes later, he heard her door creak open. y/n stepped out, visibly surprised when her eyes landed on him. “choso?” she breathed, her cheeks feeling hot as she registered his presence.

he glanced up, giving her a reassuring smile, keeping his tone casual. “hey. came back early,” he said, watching her face as she struggled to gauge if he’d heard anything. trying to brush off her surprise, y/n gave a quick laugh and sauntered over, plopping down on the couch beside him. “back already? and here i thought i’d have the place all to myself,” she teased, keeping her tone light.

choso raised an eyebrow, a small smile on his lips. “oh, did you have something fun planned?”

she shrugged, crossing her legs and leaning back with a playful grin. “maybe i was just doing a little… relaxation, you know? girl stuff.” she glanced at him with a mischievous look, clearly hoping her casual response would throw him off.

he chuckled, leaning in closer. “relaxation, huh?” he echoed, letting the word linger between them. “sounded like you were really enjoying yourself in there.”

she stiffened for a second but quickly forced a laugh, rolling her eyes. “you must be hearing things. i was probably just… watching a video or something.” she tried to keep her tone breezy, her breath a bit shaky.

“mm, sure,” choso replied, his voice low and anything but convincing. “i mean, if you say so. just seemed like something had your attention. especially with the way you kept saying my name.”

her eyes widened, and she quickly stifled a laugh, nudging his shoulder. “oh, please! don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back, her voice playful but betraying a hint of nervousness. “you think you’re the only one i think about?”

he shrugged, leaning back and draping an arm casually over the back of the couch, letting his eyes roam over her with a knowing glint. “well, i wouldn’t want to assume, but… let’s just say i’m flattered if i happened to be on your mind.” he chuckled, his gaze lingering a moment longer, making her blush deepen.

she pursed her lips, then rolled her eyes with mock confidence. “maybe i’ll just have to keep you guessing,” she said, giving him a coy smile. “wouldn’t want you getting a big head now, would we?”

choso laughed, shaking his head. “guess i’ll just have to keep an ear out next time. wouldn’t want to miss out if you’re… ‘relaxing’ again.” he playfully rolled his eyes, enjoying the way her flustered expression peeked through her playful demeanor.

y/n rolled her eyes, but the embarrassment she was feeling was obvious. “whatever, choso. don’t get too comfortable; maybe next time i won’t be so… vocal.”

he grinned, relaxing back into the couch, his gaze steady and warm. “maybe,” he murmured, “but i’m glad to be back anyway.” as they shared a knowing look, the unspoken tension simmered beneath their teasing, both of them acutely aware that the boundaries of their relationship had shifted—just a little closer.

---

a few nights later, choso lay in bed, trying to will himself back to sleep. he had never been one to wake up easily, but tonight something had stirred him—a soft sound from down the hall, faint but unmistakable. as he listened, his heart picked up, recognizing the muffled sighs and whispered moans drifting through the stillness of the apartment.

he pushed the covers back and padded quietly down the hallway, stopping just outside her door. it was cracked open slightly, just enough for him to see her stretched out on her bed, hands moving over her body, eyes shut tight as she murmured his name. he swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken, and before he could talk himself out of it, he rapped lightly on the doorframe.

y/n’s eyes flew open, and she froze, caught in the act. choso leaned against the door, his gaze steady, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips.

“you’ve been at it for a while now, n/n,” he said, his voice low and calm. “need help?”

her face flushed, but she didn’t look away, her breath still coming in shallow gasps. “choso…” she whispered, a hint of vulnerability in her voice, like she was caught between embarrassment and anticipation.

he took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “you don’t have to hide it,” he murmured, his tone gentle, reassuring. “if you want me, i’m here.”

for a moment, there was silence, both of them suspended in the charged space between them. finally, she gave a small, almost shy nod, and choso crossed the room, sinking onto the bed beside her, his touch warm and steady as he reached for her.

he pulled the sheet from her lap, revealing her bare sex. "can i taste you?" he questioned, making y/n push her legs together tighter. "I've never tried that with anyone before..." she said, voice hesitant.

"i'll help you relax." he smiled, knowing that it was all he had to do to convince y/n with anything. "its embarrassing though." a frown was on her lips, but she didn't stop choso's hand that met with her knee, pulling her leg apart from the other. "what are you embarrassed for?"

she was going to reply, but her words were caught in her throat when his gaze trailed down to her sex. "go slow." she muttered. he hummed, pushing the hem of her shirt up just a bit. he leaned down, wrapping an arm around her thigh. he did the same with his opposite arm, spreading her legs to reveal the entirety of her sex.

his tongue laid a stripe against her bud and her body jerked at the unfamiliar sensation, he looked up at her from below, his tongue moving slowly in different patterns as he tried to figure out which one brought her the better reaction. her lips were parted, heavy breaths escaping in a fast pace.

his tongue circled around her bud before his lips latched around them. with a simple suck, y/n's legs threatened to close around his head, but he held her legs in place. he pulled away, the warmth of his breath fanning the sensetive area. he used one of his hands to part her folds before he laid his tongue flat against her once again. the warmth elicited a moan from y/n and choso flickers his tongue against her bud, the repeated sensations making his grip the fabric of her comforter.

he let out a moan against her, the rumbling vibration of the low octave only adding to the pleasure. her lips lifted as she pressed herself closer to him. her free hand roamed all around her and choso noticed this. his locked eyes with her, taking her wrist in his hold before placing her hand on top of his head. "use me." was all he said before returning to her bud, the sucking sensation returning.

her arousal was slowly pooling beneath her and choso only devoured the taste of her, spreading it against her sex. she couldn’t help but want more, making her run her fingers through his hair, pushhing him down closer to her. in her many fantasies of him,she never took choso to be the kind of person to have this kind of skill.

y/n hadn’t done something like this before, but she was sure that choso was doing something, if not, everything correctly. the sounds coming from below her were a mix of his soft moans and her arousal mixed with the wetness of his tongue. her own hands were nothing compared to this and she'd wished that this was something they'd done long ago. it could've saved her weeks of sleepless nights. the mornings when choso would notice the bags under her eyes paired with dark circles.

"couldn’t sleep last night?" he'd question.

she would only shake her head as a response, feeling too much guilt to make up a lie straight infront of him. she would watch the look of pity in his eyes as she would pour an extra cup of coffee to try and keep herself awake for the day.

she was sure that tomorrow morning, that would be the case once again, but with the way that choso’s tongue moved and the way her hips moved against her will, she would be out like a light in no time. y/n muttered words of praise to him when his tongue flickered against his bud while his lips were still wrapped around her.

he let out a deeper moan against her sex and y/n let out a small whine. he gripped the flesh of her thighs, needy for her release just as much as she was. his fingers were inserted, the combination being just enough to bring her to just what she'd been chasing for the past hour or two.

she gritted her teeth, her head falling back as choso looked up at her, taking in the sight. he groaned, the image before his eyes driving his movements to quicken. the longing feeling of pleasure washed over her and her legs trembled in choso's arms. "f-fuck.." she moaned in a barely audible whisper.

her released her abused bud, his tongue swiping the corner of his lips, the taste of y/n's arousal slowly becoming his new addiction.

he wiped his lips, glancing up at her with a soft, almost shy smile. “you taste so good, pretty,” he murmured, eyes full of warmth. “could do this all night, if you let me.”

y/n's eyes were low, but she noticed the tent beneath his pants.

"will you? please?" he asked, leaning back down before she could even finish her dazed nod.

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[writingchalamet]

Angels Like You IV

Angels like you I

Angels like you II

Angels like you III

AN: it’s here! Sorry for taking so long, my nephews have been staying with me this week and keep trying to look at my laptop while I write 💀

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: violence, blood, MATT (because everyone hates Matt) trauma, breaking and entering, SMUT, heavy petting, oral (f receiving) fingering.

You’re welcome…

Chapter IV

Matt didn’t like seeing you with Bucky one bit. The thought that you had moved on so ‘quickly’ after him sent his mind into overdrive. He was good at hinting in the shadows, the day he left the bakery beaten and broken he didn’t go to a hospital or return home like he should have, he waited. Watching in the shadows until you inevitably got in your car and drove home, where he followed, rage simmering inside him. He watched from a distance as Bucky ushered you into your house after collected his child. It was the first time he actually saw the kid, and he hated to say it but he felt a tingle inside him, not the warm fuzzy, loving feeling a father should feel when they see their baby for the first time. But one of hatred. The kid he laid his eyes on was the one thing that took you away from him.

So he bided his time. And watched. He learned your routine, your ins and outs of the house, learned how your new play thing never really left your side much. You hadn’t left the house much since the incident but he liked to spot your movements through the house, you almost worked like clockwork, around the house, doing everything for the child, he despised it, that should be him that you were running around for in there, taking care of, cooking for, god he missed your cooking. One thing he hated more though was the way he saw you and Bucky looking at each other, even through windows he could feel the tension, making him want to tear his own eyes out.

He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity, and that came the night that Sam came and took the kid over to the neighbours house, Matt figured something must be going on, they must be leaving the house, he had a chance, a chance to do what exactly he didn’t know, but he’d figure that out soon enough. He saw your neighbours leave your house, then you and your new man head out looking all dolled up, he couldn’t stand the sight of it, he waited a while longer, waiting for all the lights to shut off next door before making his move, he travelled to the back of the house, hopping the fence, scurrying across the garden until he reached the back door, taking off his leather jacket, balling it around his fist, he smashed the panel of glass closest to the lock, reaching through the newly made hole, flicking the lock open and letting himself into your home.

He took in the scent as he stepped through the threshold. Bergamot and orange blossom tingled in his nostrils, the strong smell instantly reminding him of you. He wondered aimlessly at first, taking in the sight of your home. The warm homey touches that covered every inch of the house, it sickened him. The house was spottles, considering a toddler lived there, but then again, he had trained you well, he didn't like you to be messy, he was glad to see you still kept things tidy just how he liked. Not that he was clean. he ventured up the stairs to find a bedroom t the end of the hall with the word 'Forrest' hung on the door in Buntin. He guessed that was the name of his child, he still didn't know if it was a girl or a boy, you had kept that fact well hidden from him. He stepped towards the room, opening the door with a creek, finding an array of colourful toys, a Peter Pan mural painted on the walls and fluffy cloud lamps and light fixtures. Even the cot bed had been made pristine, this woman was conditioned he thought to himself.

He looked through the small chest of drawers under the changing table fiddling with some of the small shirts when his eye landed on one baby grow in particular, a 'mama's boy' one, it felt like another kick in the teeth to know he had a son, in some sick way to him it felt like another man to take you away from him. He wished you had never ran away, that he had never left that day so he would have been able to sort this whole problem out, there would be no Forrest, and it could just be the two of you again. No he'd have to sort out the Forrest problem another time, when the little bleeder was home.

He came out of the room and closed the door behind him. next finding your bedroom, the room smelt sweet like your perfume, the smell overwhelming him, he walked to your vanity noticing the makeup you had left out, you never wore makeup when you were with him, his mind hurt at the thought of you dressing up to go out with another man, he looked over at the bed, thinking about all the different things Bucky has probably done to you in that bed. Matt stormed out the room and back down the stairs until he found the Kitchen, deciding to wait there for your return, which apparently wouldn't be too long a wait. He heard the front door opening as well as the distinct sound of kissing, the occasional grunt and soft moans from you, He stood in the doorway of the kitchen waiting for you to notice him, only for him to realise you were to caught up to care there was an intruder in your house. He flicked the light on beside him, sparking your fright.

"Well, isn't this cosy?" he spoke smugly, head tilted, sly sile on his face, even with his hand all bandaged up and the dark circles under his eyes, he still acted as though he was God's gift to the earth. before you have a chance to explain yourself Bucky chimes in from his place behind you. arms strong and protective around your waist. "What are you doing here, Matt?" he oozed confidence when he spoke, and almost seemed unbothered. "Just come to take what's mine" Matt sneered, daring to take a step closer, Bucky tightened his hold around your waist as he felt you shiver. "Oh, yeah, and what's that exactly, because I don't think you own anything in this house..." Matt scoffed at his response, there was something wild in his eyes, you just couldn't tell what it was.

"You know, I had a nice look around, Forrest, that the name of my son? You could have picked a better name Y/n really, and leaving him with the neighbours so you can fuck some random guy? You really are a whore" You tore away from Bucky's arms leaping forwards, slapping Matt so hard across the face your hand ached, you could see you had left an indentation on his cheek, the skin flared red and raised slightly. "You don't get to say his fucking name, get out" Matt held his cheek, shocked that you would dare to speak to him that way let alone lash out at him, you had been away from him too long. He lifted his hand up and cupped your cheek in his hand, softly which shocked you, Bucky took a step forwards but soon stopped when he saw you signal him to still. You looked into Matt's eyes, noticing how dead his eyes truly looked. "Come back to me please, I love you. You can leave the kid here and we'll go" It frightened you how fast it was for his emotions to change. You took his hand of your face and let it drop by his side, shaking your head.

"I will never be with you, ever again, you need to understand that Matt, you can't keep doing this, please just leave us alone" You spoke quietly to him, hoping he would hear you out. A sad laugh left his lips , shaking his head, "I'll get you one way or another, whether I have to take you fighting or dead, but I'm not gonna lose you Y/n, I don't lose..."

“You already have” you knew you’d regret those words the second they hit your brain but you couldn’t stop your mouth from saying them. You saw the way his nostrils flared and how he gritted his teeth, you could practically hear them grinding together in his mouth, he yanked on your wrist pulling you closer to him, Bucky stepping even closer ready to pull him away, “you’ll fucking regret that, I’m gonna make you wish that little brat was never born” You closed your eyes expecting to feel pain as Matt raised his hand, but as quickly as it was raised, it was gone, for Bucky had put himself in between the two of you, pushing you away gently with one arm while attacking with the other.

The sound of bones crushing, and blood splattering rung through your ears. The image of Matt having his face repeatedly slammed against your kitchen counter both terrified and elated you. Seeing Bucky in this feral state made your heart thump uncontrollably out of your chest. You called out for him to stop but the sound was lost to the deafening sound of Matt's cries. Through the commotion of the yelling and the sound of things smashing to the ground you missed the sound of Sam entering the house through the front door shield in hand. Sam ran over attempting to tear Bucky away, Bucky's face turning to horror once he saw what he had done. He stood over Matt's body watching his face swell and weep with blood, as he screwed himself into the foetal position on the floor, coughing and spluttering all over the tiles.

Blue and red flashing lights surround the kitchen as the promise of help fills the room. "You Okay man?" Sam asks nodding at Bucky, he stayed silent, giving a sharp tilt of his head, stretching out his fingers on his virbranium hand, wiping the blood off onto his shirt. You went to his side, stroking your hand down his chest hoping to gain his attention, his eyes met yours, but they were shallow, you touched his face softly, making sure his eyes stayed on you "You're okay, thank you for protecting me" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders pulling you flush against him, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck. "It's- (coughs) cap- Captain America" Matt spluttered out, a combination of drool and blood oozing from his mouth, he seemed delirious after taking several punches to the head. "Yeah, and you're in a whole lotta trouble" Sam scoffed, turning to open the front door as the police and paramedics came up the drive.

After being checked over and giving statements to the police, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of Matt being handcuffed in the back of an ambulance, with the promise from the police that not only breaking and entering, but breaking his restraining order and continued harassment should be enough to keep him behind bars, if not only for a while, you were free.

Yourself and Bucky were sitting on the couch in your living room, the both of you quiet, not knowing what to say to one another. You decided to make the first move, opting to face him on the sofa, sitting cross legged opposite from him. His head turned in query as to what you were doing, but soon turned to face you. "So, what a way to end a first date..." you let the words linger, searing his face for any sign of amusement. A small smile lifted to his lips as your words sunk in, his head tilting towards you. "It was a date huh?" he smirked, eyes lighting up a tad more, losing the dullness that had reached them earlier. "We went for dinner, we laughed and you kissed me, then you saved me from Matt, I'd say that's a pretty successful date, wouldn't you?" You leaned forwards, brushing hand along the vibranium limb that sat along the back of the sofa. He laughed nodding. "So you had a good time up until the end?" he queries. "I had a great time, the entirety of it, no one has ever stood up for me the way you do, I'm really grateful...I just wish we hadn't been interrupted" You could feel yourself drawing closer to him, the magnetic buzz between you was back.

Bucky inched closer to you, his face mere centimetres from yours, his breath was warm across your face, he smelt like his cologne and a tint of dried blood, it was enough to send you into a frenzy. "What would you have wanted to happen if we were uninterrupted?" He bumped his nose against yours, tilting your head to the side, gliding his nose over neck, smelling your sweet scent, brushing his lips against your neck with feather light touches. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, you can take whatever you want" your breath was nothing more than a gasp as he kissed his way up your neck. "Careful, doll, I might actually do it" his breath fanned your face as he kissed around your cheeks, and jaw. He felt the way your fingers dug into the metal of his arm. "I want you to Bucky" in one swift movement he hauled you into his lap, his arms encasing your body, you squeaked as he lifted you, laying your hands on his broad shoulders feeling the muscles under his shirt. Smoothing over the soft fabric. His own hands wandered, feeling over the silk of your dress, slipping the fabric and bunching it up at your thighs, you gasped at the cool feeling of the metal hand digging into your flesh.

His lips delved in first, yours meeting in the meeting, melting together, melting together in a frantic fashion. His tongue brushed along your bottom lip, asking for access, you opened your mouth wider gladly receiving him. His tongue massaged its way into your mouth gliding along your own tongue. You gripped his shoulders a little tighter, his flesh hand gliding up the front of your body, in between the valley of your breast, settling around your neck. He kissed you as if he had kissed you a thousand times before. It felt natural. You started moving your hips against his, slowly and unintentional at first, but at first sound of your pleasure, Bucky soon started guiding your hips, working you back and forth loving the sounds of the soft mewls coming from your mouth. “Good girl, lie back for me”  

You settled back onto the sofa, leaning your head on the arm rest, Bucky settled between your legs, continuing to kiss and nip at your neck while you got yourself comfortable, you giggled as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin between your neck and collar bone, throwing your head back against the arm rest. “God, I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life” he muttered as he kissed his way down your chest, his hands massaging their way over your body, squeezing at your breasts, you moaned his name quietly urging him not to stop. “I could listen to that too” His vibranium hand pushed up the silk skirt of your dress until it was fully bunched up around your waist, exposing the most precious lacey white underwear he’s ever laid his eyes on. He nuzzled his head into your sternum holding onto your waist tightly, kissing your stomach, he noticed small scars the further he pushed your dress up, some obvious burn marks where Matt must have put out cigarettes on you, others small, jagged like the one on your face. He noticed the slight hesitation in your eyes as he kissed over your stomach. “You’re beautiful you know that” you nodded, eyes fluttering as he headed further down south.

“Tell me to stop at any time, I just want you to feel good okay” your eyes met and you watched as he settled between your thighs, placing each of them over his shoulders, you swore you had died and gone to heaven, the sight of the beautiful blue eyed man kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs, swearing only to make you feel good. His arms wrapped around your waist once more pulling you closer to him, the force making you let out a straggled moan. Bucky pressed a kiss to your covered pussy, a shiver running up your spine. He continued to kiss at the bundle of nerves through the lace of your underwear, your back arching upwards in pleasure.

Moving his vibranium hand down he slipped the material to the side, pressing a cool metal digit onto your clit, swirling in circles, you gasped, hips jutting forwards, his flesh hand around your waist, pinning you back down holding you in place. You watched him as he stared at your pussy, glistening with arousal for him, dripping down onto the sofa, he looked like a hunter waiting to dine on his prey, you only opened your legs a little further for him, encouraging him in. Not a second later he dived in.

Lips wrapping around your clit, sucking and kissing it with the perfect pressure, you weee sure your head would explode, he swirled his tongue around the pulsing nerve enjoying the whimpers and moans that escaped your lungs, he looked up while continuing his assault, watching the way your chest would rise and fall, how your head had fallen back on the arm rest, exposing your neck, breathing so heavily the vein stuck out on your neck. He reached up with his flesh hand, palming your left breast, your back arching into his touch.

He licked at the entrance of your cunt, sucking up some of the wetness that had dripped out, “Bucky” you moaned his name for the first time sending vibrations through his entire body, straight to his cock. “You like that doll?” You nodded letting out another staggered moan as he fucked his tongue into your hole. He could feel your walls clenching around his tongue, he withdrew the muscle only for you to sit up in protest, you whine at the loss of contact but soon that turns into a whine of pleasure when one of metal digits enters you instead. Your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, sitting up on your elbows so you could watch him better.

You saw the smirk on his face while he slowly entered you, seemingly rubbing all the right spots, the cool of the metal mixed with the searing heat of your walls creating a beautiful blend of warmth. “That feel better babydoll?” Your brain couldn’t comprehend words at this current moment, your back arching and head falling back onto the sofa arm once more. “I’ll take that as a yes” he spoke smugly, working his finger in and out, applying the perfect amount of pressure, lips reattaching to your clit.

You could feel a heat raising inside you, one that you had never reached with another person before. You tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to your heat. You were panting, hips rutting into his face, you were sure you’d never felt this level of pleasure in your life. He soon found your g spot, softly nudging it over and over again, earning himself a lewd moan of his name, he could feel your walls clenching and spasms around his finger, he knew you were close, looking up loving the sight before his eyes. Sweat kissing your skin, mouth ajar with gasps and moans, chest raised to the sky. You were right there. “Be a good girl y/n, I want you to cum”

He spoke into your cunt and you fell apart. A scream making its way from your lungs while you writhed. He sucked and lapped up all the juices as they dripped from your pussy, sucking you dry, your body shaked and you felt yourself going limp. Bucky lifted himself up settling above you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, you involuntarily moaned at the taste of your essence on his lips. He pulled back smiling like a Cheshire Cat. “Did you enjoy that” with your legs still trembling beside his hips and a blissed out look on your face, it should have been telling enough. “You have no idea, no one has ever made me feel that good before, you sergeant James Barnes may have just ruined masterbating for me for life” you sighed, throwing your head back dramatically. He laughed , leaning forwards to press another kiss to your lips. He settled down after a moment, laying his head on your chest, listening to the thrum of your heart, while your fingers combed through his hair. You can’t remember a time that you felt so at home and relaxed while not with your son.

The two of you laid there most the night, talking away, sharing the odd kiss, and eventually falling asleep in the same position, only waking when the first sight of sunlight streamed through the living room curtains. The sight of the man still sleeping soundly, on your chest with his arms wrapped snuggly around you, you felt complete and safe, for the first time in a long time.

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[threepandas]

Bad End: Pray

Faith should not be transactional. Bartered to the highest bidder and sold as the winds shift. Bought with miracles and blessings. Heaped upon powerful champions and gifted at the sweet words of avatars. Perhaps it is old fashioned of me. Or maybe it is "naive" as I have often been accused.

To be honest, I am just not used to The Divine being so active.

Perhaps it is loyalty. Perhaps it is... faith. I do not know. But I can not imagine being swayed from the Goddess I serve. Not when... unlike BEFORE? I can... can actually FEEL Her presence.

I still laugh in disbelief sometimes. In AWE. Can you even IMAGINE? Sitting there, head bowed in prayer, in that quiet little temple of nowhere special, and... while expecting NOTHING? Feeling... feeling love. A gentle, all encompassing, hand that picks you up without moving you. Cradles your soul like a beloved child.

There aren't really words to explain what it feels like. It's somewhere between talking in circles, poetry, and gibberish. But BEAUTIFUL. So utterly, utterly beautiful. I can not comprehend why anyone would ever turn their back on her. Could EVER be bought with showy trinkets and bits of gold. Party tricks.

I am an outlier, in that regard.

Only myself and the Elders remain.

No one comes. Not to worship, not for blessings or wisdom. Not even to rest from the rain. Our humble temple more quiet then it has ever been. There was always SOMEONE. We are, after all, a temple too our Lady the Nox Viatoris. Keeper of those who travel at night, in places of peril, or should the worst occur... their soul's too safe resting. (Also, several small and fluffy nocturnal animals!)

"Night" was rather loosely defined, too. It honestly meant any place of low lighting. So a deep valley or cave worked too. Under belly of a city. Sewer system. We had smugglers, on occasion. They were generous. Honestly quiet devote. And as long as they didn't break the tenets of Our Lady's teachings? Well... what Oddly Weathy Worshiper with Working Knowledge Of Sewer Systems!

It was a well known joke. Everyone ignored them.

But one by one... they stopped coming.

The locals who's families had worshipped here for generations. The merchants who always came "just in case". The smugglers who "could use a bit of luck". Random travelers, guided by our Lady to a place of safety. I began to hear scoffs, as I went into town, from the younger generations. Get "concerned hints" from aunties and uncles I had know all my life.

Fellow priestess started too... drift away.

First seeming distracted, praying more, then praying less, going for longer and longer walks, their ceremonial robes getting increasingly half-hearted, then... after the final, damning stage of "staring off towards town a lot"? They would leave. Some with excuses. Others with vitriol. Our home colder and colder for each one gone.

The Elders heart's were breaking. They were watching the slow death of the only home they had ever known and could do nothing to stop it. The temple was dying. The children they had raised, the little ones who were all but grandchildren, abandoning them without second thought or simple discussion. For some whispered promise of foreign gods.

But I? I intend to stay, no matter what.

I who had been born to travels that did not want me, here in this temple that DID. Loved by these walls and this Lady. Who was given a second chance when my first ended so abruptly. Who would walk with Her one day. Proudly and with love. This was my home. Even if I had to take care of it by myself, I WOULD.

Things in town grew... vitriolic. Tense. Like a simmering heat had spread across the street where once, cool water flowed. It lurked beneath the surface. Volatile and burning, as bright colors seem to spread like sickness across the town. They felt... aggressive, somehow. Those colors. As though anyone NOT wearing them must answer for the crime of it.

I had them pushed upon me.

Again and again.

"It's cheerful!" "Look how bright and sunny they are!" "You'll look GREAT!"

I served a night goddess. The brightest color I was allowed to wear was off white to represent the moon and stars. Night blooming flowers if I could find them and justify it. It wasn't a matter of PREFERENCE. They KNEW this. I could NOT wear their gifts. Not the clothes. Not the jewelry. Not the decorations. None of it. Especially not with...suns... on it.

It was then I did more then just suspect. As I held the most recent gift, pushed upon me by well meaning friends. Struggling to remain patient. The sun sewn into the cheerfully dyed fabric MOCKED and sneered. Gaudy and ugly to my eyes. I turned, back to the temple, the rest of my shopping forgotten.

It could wait.

When I returned? I showed the Elders what I had been handed. Elder Antilla going so pale she nearly fainted. It was all that they had feared. At last, one of the major players had decided to swallow our tiny region whole. We were nothing but a small regional faith. Our Lady a weak but kind Divine in the grand scheme of things. She took care of us.

Could not offer us miracles and silks, honey and splendor. But she could love us. Protect our souls and guide us. The stronger Gods? Oh, they could offer SO MUCH more. Tempt and sway away Her faithful. Starve her into nothingness as they strip her of power. Consume her, as they had so many others before.

We had been safe.

Because we were far away and of little interest, tucked away between mountains that lead to nowhere of strategic worth. Few people to even convert. But seems... our time had run out. One of them had come for us. And oh... oh how EASY it had been for them to pour their power and wealth into swaying our faithful away. Buying their souls for a pittance of power and a laugh.

We had to sit down.

The mood grim.

The Elders would not live much longer, I knew. Perhaps that was why they were ignored. That, or the other God knew they could not sway them. They certainly would not sway me. I refused. Even if I had to worship alone. Became some cultist in the woods. I would NOT leave Her.

I prayed.

The silence felt deafening. But at least I was not alone. My Lady's arms held me close. As though trying to shield me from the world. Shaking, tears of grief that left no marks, dropping one after another upon my hair and skin. Suddenly the arms around me tightened in alarm. Pulled, as though commanding me to stand. To be ready to run. There was FEAR in that action.

I was on my feet at once. Turning towards the open air of the entrance.

Up the road, old and worn with the passing feet of countless travelers, came the crisp step of expensive boot leather. The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, all of it, seemed to hush as the sound of footsteps got closer. As though nature itself was afraid to draw attention of whatever was coming.

It was the light that changed first. No longer coming from just above us, yet somehow? It still was. The mid-day's sun was bright, cheerful, yet perfectly ordinary. Natural in the way countless summer day's have been. But the light coming from up the path? Low and shifting like a lantern swings, in a way that can only be ORGANIC?

It BURNED.

The sort of light that purges all in its path. That blinds and maims and burns. So hot everything becomes cold, as nerve endings char away. Like the blinding light off winter snow. Pale and reaching. Hungry. Consuming. W...What WAS that? It was getting closer. I backed deeper into the temple. Towards my Lady's idol.

The hush grew louder and louder, in it's terrible absence of sound.

The light brighter, as whatever IT was, got closer.

My eyes could see no shadows, so it probably wasn't real light. It hurt to look at. Yet it didn't hurt in the way staring at bright lights SHOULD hurt. It was painful because it had... claws? Thorns. Jagged, dragging edges that ripped at the something in me that SAW.

I could See because I needed to See, I think.

She NEEDED me to know what stood before me was not merely a man.

And THAT? That is the form it took. The liar and thief. A burning monster at the threshold of my home. Dressed in the finest silks and satins stolen faith can buy, the jewels glinting from his belt enough to buy several small nations. THAT was not a man. It just looked like one. Wore the face of one.

High Priest? Champion?

Goddess help me, an Avatar?

They were enmeshed. Woven so tightly they were all but an extension of the Divine. And it BURNED. Bright, holy, and terrible. A Sun standing before the Moon's own temple, with purging fire in its heart.

"Hello, little Thing. You've been quite stubborn, haven't you?"

They didn't raise their voice, yet still my bones felt like they rattled in my skin. The few windows we had, shook. Light fixtures swayed. I... I was afraid. I would NOT cower, but oh, Lady, I was afraid. His voice felt like the desert sighing against my skin. The edge of a threat.

"I lay out treats and you do not come. I invite the town and you will not hear me. You brothers and sisters kneel at my feet, yet you? You spurn me, too give your loyalty away for nothing."

I watch as he casually reaches to the air to his side. As though accepting something offered from someone who is not there. A cigarette. He tucks it into his mouth and cups the end, his finger glowing brightly as he lights it.

He takes a drag then exhales.

Letting the smoke whisp, rudely, past the unspoken barrier between us and into the temple proper. It's scent mixes discordantly with the incense. Making what was once lovely a cloying and choking mess. I watch him smirk as he takes another drag. Send more smoke inside.

His disrespect is deliberate.

"What can the festering night give, that the loving embrace of the day can not give better?"

His smirk rolls into the mimicry of a laugh. The monster's head tilted as though to consider my reaction even as the empty sound echoes against the temple's walls. It has the depth of a laugh track. The warmth of one. How... HOW has this CREATURE fooled ANYONE? Destroyed us so utterly? It is cruel.

"Ah~ so THAT'S what it is, you precious little Thing." He whispers, somehow the most terrible sound he has made so far. The power of it drags against me covetously, lingering like hands. "True Faith, given freely. You really do love her so, don't you? That wretched, unworthy, Nothing. Little Thing~, you should love ME instead."

It ended in a croon. As though trying to entice me. But all I could hear was static. The pounding of my heart as fear released adrenaline into my body, bringing the world into hyperfocus. "Me"? My ears had not deceived me, right? That THING in mockery of man's form... said "me"?

Oh, Nox Viatoris, our Lady who guides us, on darkest paths in deepest night... h.. hold my soul with kindness. Walk with me, on this broken, troubled path. That I may not face it alone. I... I am scared.

That... That was An AVATAR.

The extension of the Divine upon this mortal world. Not nearly their full power, but even a fraction of the INFINTE? Is beyond mortal capacity to fight. Only Avatars could handle other Avatars. On rare occasions, Champions, should they band together. But I... I was just a priestess. A humble child of nowhere.

Oh Goddess.

I back up. My back hitting the alter. I... I was probably going to die here. Our faith, wiped from the face of the map. I finally understood. He had come to stomp, like crushing ants, on what few hold outs dared linger at the fringes of his domain. Sent his Avatar to convert and destroy.

Our home would be nothing but rubble, wouldn't it? Generations of faith, gone. Our history, burned before his uncaring purge. At... oh Goddess, dear Lady, at least I would walk that final time with her. Could return the kindness she had shown so many. He was going to kill her. Kill US.

I...I refused to let her die alone.

Against my back, I felt the cool warmth of my Lady, leaning against me. Her unseen arms around me in comfort. For me or herself, I could not tell. It did not matter. I stood taller. Head high, shoulders back, feet shoulders wide. Shaking, yes, but unwilling to cower.

If I died today, I would walk proudly with Nox Viatoris.

The smile had slipped from the Avatar's face as it blankly regarded the spot directly behind me. Like a puppet sliding back into default in that absence of commands. I briefly wondered... who had he been? The faithful man, who gave up his form? Who was hollowed out and USED? He was beautiful. Had he been asked?

Or had he had this terrible thing inflicted upon him?

I would never know.

"That's rather annoying, you useless little parasite. She and I were having a conversation." The puppet's, the AVATAR'S mouth, barely moved. "Can't you go check on those wastes of space of yours? The ones that you've only barely managed to keep? They should be dead soon, you'll need to do your job. I'll take Good Care~ of this bright little soul. Don't bother coming back."

"No need." Came the deceptively soft rasp of the high priest. His normally kind face colder then I had ever seen it. Fierce and determined as he lead the other elders from the where they had been meeting in the gardens. Had the Goddess called them? Or had they simply sensed something was wrong?

"I am afraid that although the temple is said to be open to all, that is not, in fact, strictly true. Those that come here with malicious intent are not welcome. Nor those who come to cause trouble, intent regardless. YOU have caused grief and pain here. We do not welcome you to these halls. Please go."

Elder Lilam was subtly pushing me towards the back of the group. Their eyes somber as they met mine. I... I did not cry. There would been time for such things later, I hoped. I nodded back. Understood. Went, softly, on quiet feet. Past the alter, into the back, down the main hall on swift but not running feet.

To the back, where the wanderers bags were. For those our Lady calls suddenly to travel. To wander the roads in search of lost travelers in need of aid. I grabbed more then my fair share of bags. I... I did not suspect I would be coming back. Then into the back gardens. Where we grew herbs and vegetables for the kitchen.

The front of the temple SHOOK.

A terrible burning light. Heat and death. I barely kept my feet under me. Broke into a sprint. Away from the only home I had ever known. The Elders I was certain our Lady now walked to their rest. Towards the mountains and forests I had explored all my life. I... I could only hope they would protect me.

In my chest, the mantle of High Priestess settled. Heavy and mournful with our Lady's grief. I would have to carry the weight. There was no one else now. They were gone. With her. They had done all they could.

Felt their sorrow, their love, and it was all I could do not to let my tears blind me.

I needed to see the path. Could not risk missteping even once.

Behind me, down further below, and now hidden by the trees, I heard the temple crash and shake. As it was torn apart. Pillar by pillar, room by room, lifetimes of love and memories were destroyed. The murals painted in my childhood were surely gone by now. The hand carved doors that had lasted for centuries. Paint splatters and embroideries from generations of youth who had grown to call that place home.

Gone.

All of us, gone.

I ran.

I ran and I HATED myself for running. What could I DO? What could I POSSIBLY hope to DO? All I had left was to survive. Too carry them forward. It hurt. Worse then any breaking bone or burning skin. I couldn't even cry. I... I didn't have the TIME.

I hit the tree line. Didn't dare go too much higher. Didn't know if Avatars could fucking fly. Didn't want to find out the hard way. So many things I did not do. Was there anything left I DID do? Was GOOD for?

There was.

The shadowed place between two mountains. Mid-day had past. Afternoon was meandering towards days end. It would only get darker from here. Ha ha... where was this? When we need it? Oh, I knew. The monster timed his arrival well. At the height of his power.

But this was MY house now.

He may be stronger then me? But that meant NOTHING. I did not need power here. I needed SUBTLETY. A whisp of nothingness of a breeze of shadows. I could feel him, slow and steady, arrogant in his assumptions, pursuing me. He really did know NOTHING about those he destroyed. We were beneath his notice.

I hope the hubris burns as he chokes on it.

I slip between the mountains, into that deep rift of a valley, more crack then anything, and... VANISH. I am One with the Night. A traveler on Her path. Safe in her care. Sideways and one step removed from reality, as I race forward. No longer stumbling over uneven rocks and clambering on unstable terrain, the path beneath my feet is soft and smooth. I grin, as far away, that bastard falters.

"Oh, you clever little Thing. I forgot you still had tricks. Amusing~"

"It won't keep you from me though, I WILL have you in the end. And you will worship ME. Look only upon ME. And you will be my favorite, I think. I am going to chase you down, little Thing. So go ahead and pray. It will do you no good."

"You are going to be MINE, beautiful in the sunlight. You have no choice."

[atinyniki]

atelophobia.

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!bangchan x f!reader x idol!lee felix

genre: angst, fluff

warnings + additional info: reader is referred to as y/n, proposals, insecurities, crying, mentions of sex but no smut, suggestive jokes, lots of kissing, y/n is neglected

authors note: omggg my first fic for the 'making @miuracha happy' event !!! i really hope you love it <3 this fic really spoke to me because i guess... its just people being people. relationships have problems, but communication is so so important in order to keep it alive ! this has a happy ending, dw... this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 1771

atelophobia - the fear of imperfection.

“baby? we’re home!”

you quickly check the time from the clock above the stove, cursing yourself for not finishing earlier and rushing to the door to greet them. “hey loves…”, you smile tiredly. they share a look before wrapping you in a hug, dirtying their clothes from the contact with your messy apron.

you relax in their warmth for a bit… its been a long day. “missed you, my baby…”, chan whispers. felix hums in agreement from your side, leaving tender kisses across your cheekbones. they finally pull away from you, and you assess the damage done to their clothes.

you don’t mean to make your frown so noticeable, but it’s inevitable. “what's wrong love?”

before you can answer, you crouch down and use your hands to dust off the rice flour from their clothes, apologizing profusely for ruining them. the truth is, recently, it’s felt like you’ve only made things worse for everyone. it’s thrown you into this bad mental state, thinking that your boyfriends deserve so much better.

“hey, it’s really not a big deal. we’re gonna wash up soon anyways, yeah?”, felix shoots you a tired smile.

you nod, standing back up and smiling sheepishly. “um… dinner will be ready soon. it should be done by the time you’re out.”

the both of them nod, making their way into the bedroom and then the bathroom. you rush back to the kitchen to check on the tteok, but you frown once you realize you must have boiled it for too long. the rice cakes look a little too mushy, but you hope that it’ll taste good in the tteokbokki.

about ten minutes later, you hear the two giggle as they walk into the living room. “gosh, i thought you’d have more stamina baby…”

he rolls his eyes playfully, placing another kiss onto chan’s lips. regularly, you’d be happy about it. it’s nice to have a loving relationship and be able to see their love progress alongside them, but the sight of them now makes your heart clench. 

it’s different now than it was a week ago. you feel undesirable, unwanted. why can’t you ever be intimate with them? why don’t they kiss you like that? the questions run through your mind at a sickening pace, and it takes everything in you not to cry.

chan turns his head to look at you, but you look away before he notices you staring. “gosh what are you making? i’m hungry as hell…”, he giggles.

“i’m sorry… it’s taking longer than i expected”, you mumble out. felix is the first to notice your uneasiness. “no y/n, i think he just meant… because it smells so good, you know? don’t apologize, there’s no need to rush, yeah?”

you nod, smiling at him and turning back to the pot of simmering tteok. only a couple minutes go by and you’ve plated all the food nicely, setting their meals down onto the kitchen table. “food’s ready!”

the boys rush to the table, smiling once they’ve seen the food. it pushes you further to your breaking point, seeing them smile so widely at the food, but never at you. you regularly don’t need constant reassurance, but right now it feels as if everything’s breaking apart in front of you.

to make things worse, they sit opposite to you around the small circular table. your body seems to be betraying you, your bottom lip slightly quivering, and you quickly bite it to hide your pain.

they each take a bite of their food, quickly eating due to their hunger. you smile at their eagerness, finding their puffy cheeks adorable, until you see their faces go red.

“oh my gosh… what did you put in this?”, chan asks incredulously. he obviously doesn’t mean it in a rude way, but it seems that way due to everything else that’s been going on.

“i- im sorry…”, you whisper.

you pour him some more water, and refill felix’s too. “it’s so fucking— augh —spicy!”, felix groans.

“i’m sorry.”, your voice gets even quieter with every apology, the tears brimming in your eyes. “i can’t even eat this…”

“i said i’m sorry!”, you yell.

and you break.

the tears brim over your lash line, now spilling over your cheeks, and the boys finally look up from their plates and at you. the way their cheeks are filled with water makes them look incredibly stupid, and yet it doesn’t make you laugh like it normally does.

instead, you cry even harder, knowing that you’ve put them in pain. you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to show how truly vulnerable you are.

“baby…”, chan gasps out. the two of them stand up, immediately rushing to your side. the burn of their tongue can’t even compare to the pain in their heart at this moment.

“my pretty girl… what’s wrong?”, felix coos at you. you shake your head, “i’m okay, i’m sorry…”

you feel chan’s breath ghost over your neck while he whispers in your ear. “can i touch you?”

you nod, and you’re immediately picked up by chan and set down onto the couch in felix’s lap. “what’s wrong, love? did we do something wrong?”

“i just… i don’t know. i guess the feelings have been there for a while now, but it’s never gotten this bad.”, you sigh out. the boys share concerned looks, only making you want to cry even more.

“i’m fine, really. i don’t need to be babie—“

“tell me what’s wrong, y/n.”

“chan i- it’s not that simple… there’s a lot.”

you hear felix sniffle from above you, and you pry your eyes open to look at him. you feel upset, yes, but nothing would prepare you for this guilt. “how long?”, he rasps out.

“what?”

“how long have you felt like this? you don’t have to keep it from us… you can tell us everything…”

“i just…”, you sigh, covering your face again. chan grabs your wrist loosely, running his lips over your knuckles. “don’t hide from us, baby, please… tell us what’s going on.”, chan begs.

“i just… i don’t feel like your girlfriend anymore… i just feel like a roommate that you occasionally kiss at this point. you and lix have been out so much more than usual and you… you never bring me anywhere. i just want to be loved… i want to cook with you guys… and i want to sit next to you while we eat. i want to be intimate with you like you are with eachother… and i know that sounds crazy… but i just feel so… out of the loop.”

“y/n… that’s not—“

“felix… please… i just- just a little love is all i ask for… hold me, hug me, spend time with me… just don’t make me feel invisible.”

“i… i’m so sorry…”, he whispers. you open your eyes to stare at chan, who’s basically bowing on the floor, looking away from you so that you can’t see the pain in his eyes. 

“there’s no reason to—“, before you can finish, he pulls you up from his lap to wrap you in a hug.

“there's a reason, y/n. you don’t deserve that from anyone… and definitely not from your boyfriends. you mean the world to us, you really do… we were just… dealing with some things.”

“then tell me felix! i don’t mind that you two love eachother of course, i want you to. i want you to be in love with eachother and care for eachother but i just want to be in the picture. so tell me… am i still in the picture?”

“you will always be in the picture, my love…”, you hear chan whisper from beside you.

you turn your head towards him, and you almost jump when you see the dark red velvet box. his head is hung low in shame, and all you can hear from felix and chan are harsh sobs.

he flicks open the box, the three gorgeous trio rings glimmering in the light. “chan i- i—“, felix interrupts you before you can even get another word out.

“we wanted to make it special for you… that’s why we were out so much… so excited and happy all the time. it’s because of you.”

your voice gets caught in your throat, your tears suddenly fading away. the weight on your heart seems to be lifted, and yet it’s like these two are acting like the entire world is falling apart.

but that’s because it is. you’re their entire world, and they’ve hurt you. “we don’t need a special proposal, y/n. we just need you… so what do you say?”

felix pushes you up closer to his back so that you can feel his heartbeat against it. “will you marry us?”

you clamp a hand around your mouth, trying your best to suppress your sobs, but you can’t. you nod frantically, unable to say any words. nothing could have prepared you for this moment.

chan slides the silver band onto your finger, leaning over to kiss away your tears. “oh baby… don’t cry…”

“i- i didn’t mean to ruin it… i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to apologize, my love. i’m sorry for putting you through so much pain.”

chan finally makes space for himself on the couch, pulling your legs over his lap. he lightly strokes them up and down, felix threads his fingers through your hair. all of a sudden, your stomach starts rumbling, eliciting giggles from the boys.

“you hungry baby? we can go back and eat”, chan smiles.

“i’ll just make something else… it won’t be too long, i—“

“baby, listen. it doesn’t taste bad i swear… it’s just… so spicy.”

he kisses over your eyelids, trying his best to soothe you. “it’s okay…”

“hey… we love you, you know that right?”

“i love you both too…”

you hum in satisfaction at the feeling of their hands on you. even when it’s not in a sexual way, there’s something so grounding about their touch. “eat later… i missed you guys”

“awh baby… you’re so cute. i guess we can wait a bit, yeah?”, felix coos. you lean up to leave a peck in his cheek. a simple gesture, and yet it’s so innocently sweet. 

chan leans over to swipe another tear away from your cheek, and that’s when you know you’re okay. they care about you. you don’t have to be perfect for them to love you. they want you for the person you are and nothing else. 

and you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with them.

<3

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 24. Would It Matter?

Summary: Dahlia is letting off the last of her pent up anger over Dain, when an unexpected person and interaction occurs. A/N: I know this is only like a day late, but I got caught up in the fun of last week of work for the year, and Christmas parties. But here is the next part of Dahlia. And now I'm on some time off I will try and get through some of the requests that have been coming in (I've been so bad with those, I'm so sorry!).

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

The rhythmic thud of my punches hitting the bag echo around the room as I unleash the last of anger on the punching bag. A bag that I hate to admit has nearly whacked me in the face one too many times due to how hard I’ve been hitting it. My challenge with Dain had done little to simmer my anger despite how good it had felt to win. To show they no longer held power over me. So here I was, back to a habit I hadn’t partaken in since being here.

”Stupid…. Dain,” I mutter between punches. “Stupid.. family name… Stupid… Expectations!” The right hook I lands causes the bag to swing violently, whipping back towards me.

I raise my hands, bracing for the impact that never comes. I pause, my chest heaving as I open my eyes, a large hand reaching over me, stopping the bag millimetres from my face.

”That poor bag must have really pissed you off,” a voice whispers behind me, causing me to shiver as their breath caresses my neck in an oddly intimate way. Their voice smooth with a hint of humour.

Why did my body react like this to him. I hated it.

”Do you really hate it?” Proth teases in my head.

”You keep those thoughts to yourself.” I grumble back.

”Then keep the ones about him to yourself.”

Damn, meddling dragon.

I turn around, my back resting against the punching bag as I look up at his hazel eyes, dark curls falling in front of them as he smirks down at me.

”It does when I picture certain peoples faces on it. Might imagine yours next.” I remark before ducking under his arm and heading for the bottle of water I’d placed nearby. “Do you always sneak up on people like that?”

”I wouldn’t call it sneaking,” he says with a shrug as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’re just intense. I could hear you pummelling that bag from outside. Not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

I roll my eyes at him before raising the bottle to my lips, the cool liquid helping to simmer my fiery temper before dropping it back to the ground. I push past Garrick and settle back into a fighting stance as I unleash a flurry of quick jabs. I feel his eyes watching me, and I hate how I falter under his gaze.

”I take it your challenge against Dain did nothing to help your mood?” He muses as he leans up against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

I stop mid swing, turning to glare at him. “Trust me, if you knew even half the history between him and I, you’d understand.”

”Then make me understand.” He says casually, as if it was so easy to let him in.

I shake my head, before turning back to the punching bag. “Even if you were the last person alive, I wouldn’t let you in on my deepest darkest secrets Tavis.”

”Is it to do with what Dain hinted about the other day?”

Anger flairs within me at his words, putting more force behind my punch than I intend as a loud thud that almost sounds like a crack echoes in the room. I knew he had heard, but part of my deep down had hoped he didn’t. Had hoped him and Bodhi had walked in that little bit too late to hear that part of the conversation.

”It’s nothing. He’s just trying to get in your head. Place doubt. They’re good at that.” I snarl out, Garrick furrowing his brow at my words.

”I hate to say this, but I call bullshit. What I saw on the mat today, and the way you’re beating up the poor punching bag… That was all fuelled by anger and pent up emotions. It’s personal.”

Why was he so god damn observant when it came to me all of a sudden? Clearly I wasn’t as subtle as I thought. Or maybe Garrick was more focused on me than I thought.

”I didn’t come here for a therapy session Tavis. So you either stand there, be quiet and let me train. Or you leave.” I warn as I fiddle with the wraps on my hands.

I look up as Garrick slowly steps towards me. “How about another option? One that might stop you from injuring yourself? Your form is all over the place.”

I roll my eyes. “Fully aware of that one.” I tell him as I secure my wraps in place and turn to start up again.

I rock back on my heel to settle into a fighting stance, but large hands lightly grasp my hips and shift my weight. I go to recoil and step away, but his hands grip my hips firmly, keeping me in place.

”You keep that stance up you’re going to be limping around the Quadrant tomorrow.” He states firmly from behind me as he loosens his grip on me. “And relax your shoulders, you’re tense all up here.”

I turn my head to see him gesture to my shoulders, just enough distance between us so his fingers don’t skim the exposed skin. Happy I’ve taken note of his advice, he takes a step back as he crosses his arms over his chest and waits for me to resume.

I hated to admit it, but he was right. I was tense, my stance was completely off and I was already starting to feel it. But was I going to tell him that? Gods no. Though knocking the smug look off his face with a well placed hit was tempting.

”Anything else?” I ask as I drop my shoulders and settle into the stance he’d corrected me on.

”Stop fighting the bag, flow with it instead and maybe it won’t hit you in the face.” He says smugly, knowing that if I turned to look at him he’d be smirking at me.

”Flow? Look at you sounding like an expert.” I mock.

Garrick chuckles from behind me. “Maybe, but it works. Trust me.”

I turn my head, just enough to catch his gaze. His hazel eyes steady, but something else was there. As if he was meaning something else by his words. Not wanting to delve to deep into it, I turn my attention back to the punching bag, doing my best to ignore the feeling of his eyes on my back.

Taking a deep breath, I unleash a sequence of light jabs on the punching bag. And as Garrick put it, going with the flow of the bag. Which I knew would work. Working with the motion of the bag was better than fighting against it and trying to make the bag work for you instead.

”Better?” Garrick questions, his voice low and approving as moves to stand just off to the side of me as I step back from the bag.

”You might have been right.” I admit reluctantly as I start to undo my hand wraps. “But don’t let it go to your head.” I add as I point a finger at him.

Garrick grins, hands dropping to his side as he uncrosses his arms. “Too late.”

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the smile that wants to break free. “You’re impossible.”

”And you’re relentless.” He shoots back at me as his eyes linger on me. “You feel better now?”

I shrug as I undo the last of my hands wraps, scrunching them up in my hands. “As best as I can all things considered. But I no longer feel like I want to murder someone, so we’ll go with I feel better.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me as I push past him, shoving my hand wraps and water bottle into my pack.

”I might have a way for you to get rid of the last of that pent up anger?” He jokes from behind me.

I roll my eyes as I shoulder my pack and turn to face him, Garrick far closer than he was before as I look up at him, that damn half smile on his face. I hated how my breath catches in my throat at the way he’s looking at me.

”I might have made myself a far bigger disappointment to my family today, but I still have some standards I want to uphold. Don’t want to end up at the healers because I’ve caught something that's gone around your stable.” I say smugly, smiling up at him before patting him on the chest and walking past him.

”What if I had no one else in my stable?” He calls out to me as I start to push the door open, the joking tone to his voice no longer there.

I turn to see him looking at me, but I’m too far away to see the way he’s looking at me properly. And I’m glad he’s too far away to see me freeze momentarily. I couldn’t deny I found Garrick attractive, just like every other girl in the Quadrant. And there was a part of me that was tempted to go there. But there was no way he would change his ways just for me. And there was another part of me that wasn’t sure if he was just using me or wanting it just to throw it in my face.

”And what if you didn’t?” I call out, tilting my head slightly as I look at him. “Would it even matter?

A few moments pass, Garrick now answering straight away. But from here I can just make out his trademark smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

”It might,” he calls out finally, his tone unreadable, his question now hangs heavier than it did before.

I feel the prickle of heat crawling up the back of my neck. Why were his words affecting me so much? Yes we’d agreed to try be friends after he’d found me after challenges. But I barely knew him. I didn’t trust him. I shouldn’t be having these feelings of wanting to see how far he would go for me. Because I knew it wouldn’t be very far. I was probably one of the few girls here who said no to him. I was just a fleeting fancy for him. Right?

I grip the door handle tightly as I turn away from him. “Whatever game you’re playing Garrick, I’m not your pawn.” I call out, my voice firm and stern. But I have no idea if he find’s it convincing, and I was not turning around to find out. “Once you figure out if it would matter, then maybe we’ll talk.”

I don’t wait for his reply. Pushing the door open more aggressively than I planned, the door slamming closed behind me, cutting off any reply Garrick was about to give me. As I walk away, I try to ignore the small part of me that wishes I’d stayed to hear his answer.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01

[wildechildwrites]

Promise

John Price/Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: lil bit of angst

No Use of Y/N

Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Your husband comes home unexpectedly with his team in tow

A/N: *Posts something* *Disappears for another four months*

AO3 Link: Promise

John’s posture visibly relaxes as he steps through the front door, knots in his shoulders unraveling as he rounds the corner and spots you. The sun’s setting, golden rays filtering through the kitchen window, wrapping everything in a warm glow. You’re stirring a pot on the stove, humming to yourself, and as you turn to look at him, lips curving softly, John murmurs a hello, voice reverent with poignant adoration.

Your bright eyes flick from his to the three curious pairs behind him, and you click your tongue in disapproval. “John, if you'd called ahead, I could've ensured I made enough for your guests.”

“They're not staying long, love, just–”

“Oh, nonsense,” you cut him off, waving your hand as if to brush away the thought, tone authoritative. “You sort your business, and I'll see what can be done to stretch the meal. Honestly John, what kind of first impression is that; me turning out your boys without dinner?”

You cross the warmly lit kitchen and give him a quick peck on the cheek before introducing yourself to his companions, a bright smile on your face. Soap hasn't quite managed to pick his jaw off the floor, so Ghost leans over and shuts it for him. Gaz smiles back at you, recovering from his shock with more ease as he extends a hand to you.

“I'm Kyle,” he says keenly, and the stormy face of his captain, standing just out of your eye line, makes him quickly drop your hand. “The boys call me Gaz.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Gaz.” You reply, genuine warmth threading through your voice before you turn towards the two other men. “You must be Ghost and Soap.”

“Aye,” Soap replies after a beat, “Price never mentioned he had a…” he trails off awkwardly, and Ghost smacks the back of his head. You laugh lightly, not having to look at your husband to feel the glare he’s shooting his soldiers.

You reach your hand towards John, and he tangles his fingers in yours automatically, pulling you towards him. You give him a playful smile before turning back towards his boys. “He’s a big advocate of separating work from home. Won’t even let me call him Captain.”

The suggestive lilt in your voice makes the men duck their heads, and you turn to John, watching the tips of his ears turn pink with barely concealed glee.

“We’ll be in my study,” he grumbles.

The men can hear your laughter ringing as they head down the hall.

You can’t help the thread of anxiety twisting low in your stomach as you add more broth to the soup you’re making. The less you know, the better, but the unexpected presence of John’s entire team sits poorly with you. He didn’t even send you a warning text, entirely out of character, exacerbating your unease. Muffled voices filter through the walls, and you try to distract yourself, curbing your instinct to eavesdrop. The soup is simmering on the stove, so you go to the pantry and grab a box of brownie mix and a bag of chocolate chips, quickly mixing all the ingredients together and popping the pan in the oven.

You’re licking brownie batter off the spatula when John comes back into the kitchen, and you can tell by the expression on his face that you’re not going to like whatever he’s about to say. He takes large, quick strides towards you, and you manage to toss the spatula in the sink before he sweeps you into his wide arms, tugging you to his chest in a tight embrace. You inhale as deeply as you can, pulling the familiar scent of him into your lungs.

“I’ve got to go out of town.” He finally says gravely. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to contact you until what needs to be done is done.”

There’s a high price to being married to a military man. John’s gone more often than he’s not, and when he does slink back home to you, it’s always with new scars and fresh nightmares, things that weigh on him in a way you’ll never be able to comprehend.

You know, with a sort of inevitable finality, that John won’t get to retire. It’s not in his nature, and no matter how much he loves you; he loves the job more. He’ll come home in a box one day, and every time he leaves, you have to accept it might be the last time you’ll see him.

Unwanted tears gather in the corners of your eyes, and you give yourself a moment, face pressed against John’s chest, willing yourself to be strong. Your voice is muffled when you finally speak, unwilling to pull away from the comfort of his arms.

“There’s a go bag full of clean clothes in our closet. When do you need to leave?”

John squeezes you tighter against him, burying his nose in your hair. His heartbeat is loud in your ears, steady as always.

“We’ll stay for dinner, but we’ll be leaving tonight. I’m so sorry, love.”

You dance around each other like it’s a normal night, basking in the warmth of the oven and his company, choosing to ignore the tug at your heart strings, the quiet sounds of his team filtering through the wall. You can feel his watchful eyes on you while you fill the bowls with generous scoops, but you pretend not to notice, humming to yourself with a cheer you don’t feel.

The timer on the oven dings, and you pull away, quickly turning so John can’t see the redness in your eyes. You know what you signed up for, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“I was going to make some grilled cheese to go with the soup, will you get them started?”

The silverware clinks merrily, the living room filled with the sound of quiet chatter. The table hasn’t been this crowded since two years ago, when you convinced your sister to come for a visit. She’d brought her little ones, and John had doted on them, acting so soft and attentive, making you absolutely melt. You see echoes of that same care in his interactions with his men, hidden beneath an artificial shell of severity.

“This migh’ just be the best soup I’ve ever tasted,” Soap pipes up, elbows tucked uncomfortably to avoid jostling Gaz, “I’da kept you a secret too, with cooking like this.”

“Johnny.” John’s voice is a hard warning, but he betrays himself with the slightest curve of a smile beneath his whiskers, a spark of pride in his eyes.

“There’s some soup left on the stove, if you boys are still hungry.” You smile. “And I’ve got brownies for dessert.”

The appreciative noise Soap makes borders on obscene. “Dinner and dessert? Do ya’ want another husband?”

The thud of John’s boot connecting with his Sergeant’s shin echoes through the room, and you try and fail to stifle a snort. Gaz quirks his eyebrow at you, humor dancing in his expression, and you let out a giggle before slapping your hand over your mouth self-consciously.

“Apologies.” Ghost pipes up dryly, inclining his head towards Soap. “We don’t have ‘im house trained yet.”

You let out another laugh. “It's alright, I'm still working on John.” The boys laugh, and your husband shoots you a look.

“You’re fostering insubordination, love.” He says gruffly, and you smile sweetly at him, grabbing his hand under the table and giving it a tight squeeze.

The men eat fast, faster than you’d like them to, the meal ending too quickly. Ghost and Soap clear the table, cracking dad jokes that make you roll your eyes good-naturedly, and Gaz plants himself solidly in front of the sink, ignoring your protests.

“Let me do the dishes,” he says stubbornly, an immovable brick wall, ignoring your attempts to shove him out of the way. “My mum would have a fit if she knew somebody cooked for me and I didn’t do the washing up.”

“I’m not going to discourage his good manners; he rarely gets to put ‘em to use. Come and sit with me for a minute.”

John’s leaning against the kitchen door frame, his warm eyes crinkled with amusement at the scene in front of him. You whirl around with a grumpy look.

“John, order him to let me take care of it,” you command, pointing at Gaz, and your husband just laughs, reaching out to grab your hand.

He leads you away from the bustle of the kitchen to his study, shutting the door behind him. His normally pristine desk is strewn with papers and maps, and you try and fail not to look too much, wondering what’s in Mexico that could need such urgent attention. John sits in the wide leather chair behind the desk and pulls you into his lap, burying his nose into your neck, his facial hair tickling your skin. You both inhale deeply, folding into each other.

The silence is heavy. You’re too aware of the ticking clock, the inevitable goodbye. You’ve barely had him for a few hours, and then you’ll be alone again, in this house designed for the two of you, constantly listening for the familiar sound of footsteps, desperately waiting for the phone to ring.

“You know, love,” John murmurs, “If anything were to happen to me, the boys would make sure you're looked after. Kate too.” He pulls back to look at you, his expression earnest. “Made them swear to it.” Your stomach drops like a rock, the tears you’ve been fighting all night rising back to the surface. John's thoughts have been in the same place as yours, lingering on realities best left unacknowledged.

You choke around the lump in your throat. “I don’t need anyone looking after me. I just need you.” You wrap your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him. “Just come back home, John.” Your bottom lip wobbles, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, and he sighs mournfully.

“None of that, love. You know I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“Just–” you cut yourself off to smother a sob. “Just promise me you’ll always come home.” You want to beg him to stay, beg him to never leave you again, but you know he has to go. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be the man you married. You’ll settle for an unsustainable guarantee, worthless words with no force behind them. Your wedding ring sits heavy on your finger, a noose around your neck.

The lie sours in the air between you.

John’s gaze is melancholy. His thumb gently brushes away the tears making their way down your cheek, and he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips.

“I promise. Always.”

You walk the boys to the door, making sure they’ve got everything they need, slipping the last brownie to Soap when no one else is looking. You give your husband a tight hug, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before turning towards his men.

“It was nice to meet you all.” Your face is blotchy from your earlier tears, eyes still rimmed with red, but you smile as sincerely as you can.

Gaz reaches his hand out. “It was a pleasure. Thanks for dinner, it was delicious.”

You ignore the offered palm and pull him in for a hug, hoping it’s not overly familiar. The way Gaz relaxes into your arms tells you he needs it, and you give him an extra squeeze before pulling back. “You’re all welcome anytime you want a home cooked meal.”

When you turn to Soap, he sweeps you into his arms eagerly, crushing you tight enough against him to draw a strangled squeak from your lungs. “You’re a dead brilliant cook,” he says, voice oozing sincerity, “Price’ll have ta beat me out the door with a broom.”

“Johnny.” Your husband’s warning tone is enough for Soap to release you, grinning cheekily. You shoot John a reassuring look before turning towards your last guest.

Ghost eyes you warily, his posture unnaturally stiff. You open your arms slightly, tilting your head, a silent offering. There’s a beat, and then Ghost steps into the hug with the faux indifference of a moody teenager, throwing one arm carelessly over your shoulder. You have to stifle your urge to laugh. “Be safe,” you say softly, and there’s a shock of warmth in his icy stare even as he grunts noncommittally.

You’re plunged into empty silence when the men file out of the house. You watch them get into their cars, a bitter taste in your mouth. John turns to look back at you, saying something you can’t hear to his men before running back, slamming the front door behind him firmly. Your heart leaps.

“Forgot something,” he says, and grabs you, pulling you in for a searing kiss. You melt together, lips parting against his, arms automatically reaching up around his neck. He pulls back, and you tighten your grip around him.

“I love you,” it’s a desperate plea, an impossible ask.

“I love you, too.” John says, and his eyes slide to the door, strong fingers untangling himself from your hold.

When he leaves, he takes the warmth with him.

[semisolidmind]

Ok I have a question and if I asked this before sorry my memory sometimes bad.

So you said peach's died on the journey with her husband's. How did she die? And did they get revenge for her. Also at this point you would think peach's is there soulmate but peach's not liking it.

And dose she have a Mark of how she died as a brith Mark?

And what was Macaqa and sun frist meating with peach's like?

I really love your work

(tw, slight mention of blood and gore)

went on a bit of a tangent :)

reader was killed during a demon ambush. everybody was busy fighting the demons, and while reader was hiding, one of the demons escaped the warlords' notice. she didn't even have time to scream. it killed her, and then took and ate her body.

macaque was the first to realize her absence, of course. reader wasn't able to make much noise as she died, so he just thought she was scared, but... imagine his horror when he can't hear her heartbeat. he quickly dissapears into a shadow, leaving the fight behind. he checks where reader was hidden, and finds only a small puddle of blood. his breathing quickens as he follows the blood a ways further into the woods. he can feel his rage and anguish growing.

there, in a clearing, a rogue wolf demon seems to have just finished its meal, it's tongue licking the excess gore from its teeth. shreds of reader's clothing lay scattered at its feet, along with her satchel and book.

macaque bears his teeth in an enraged snarl and roars at the stupid beast. struck by grief, he falls to his knees, pressing his hands to his face as tears gather in his eyes.

the sound of his anguish echoing against the trees was enough to summon his brother; wukong, covered in the gore of his slain enemies, appears at his side. the king takes quick stock of the situation, and comes to the same heart-shattering conclusion as macaque.

she's gone. she's gone and this wretched creature destroyed her.

reader is dead.

the rage he feels rivals the burning of the stars.

the two bring down the full fury of their combined might upon the wolf demon. the warlords drag out their dismantlement, tearing the stupid creature apart peice by peice. once the offending beast is little more than a visceral stain on the ground..

...the brothers hold one another, attempting to ground each other through the torrent of their pain. they've lost their one, their only.

their dear reader, their beloved peach....she's dead. all because they took their eyes off her for a second, all because they were made to come on this cursed journey. were they not charged with protecting that blasted monk, they could have prevented this. wukong and macaque come to the same conclusion; they will not soon forgive the ones who brought them here.

the monkey demons gather reader's things, holding them as gently as glass...it's all they have left of her. not even a body to bury back home on their mountain.

the other pilgrims need only see these items and the baleful, enraged, tear-stricken looks on their companions' faces to know what must have happened. wukong and macaque say nothing as the monk says a prayer for her.

the two leave for a while.

they don't come back for three months.

when they do return to the journey at the behest of the heavens, they are reserved. withdrawn. they keep to themselves, only intervening when the pilgrims are in danger they can't solve themselves.

———

the monkey king and the six-eared macaque complete the journey. they refuse their new titles; the rage that simmers in them is far too great for the roles they've earned.

the monkey warlords go home. they grieve, properly this time, alongside their subjects.

the next few hundred years are especially brutal for any enemies of flower fruit mountain and it's king. without his queen, he forgets what it means to be merciful.

———

many centuries later, wukong finds a little monkey demon boy, seemingly sprung from the same stone he did. wukong adopts him, names him xiaotian, and teaches him to become a ruthlessly efficient warrior.

the child grows up hearing the occasional story about the mountains' queen, a once-mortal woman who held his father's (and uncle's) heart in her hands. his caretakers can't bring themselves to speak about her often, but they speak softly and fondly when they do. he hears stories of her adventures on the mountain; how she made friends with her subjects, worked in the kitchens and orchards, and cared for the mountain's children.

both wukong and macaque tell xiaotian that reader would have loved him dearly.

the small shrine in the palace temple (a satchel, a heavy book with nothing written in it, a few scraps of bloodied cloth displayed next to daily offerings of peaches) and furniture in his father's room (the combs, hairpins, and perfume bottles untouched but lovingly dusted) don't tell him much about who "reader" was—but the stories from the people who knew her do.

he wishes he could've met her.

———

when the boy reaches a certain age, he asks to go stay in the mortal world. his father reluctantly agrees.

xiaotian goes to the city, battles the dragon girl mei, befriends her, and allows her to teach him how the city works. she takes him to a noodle shop belonging to one of her friends, a gruff but earnest pig demon named pigsy. there, he meets mei's other friends; a gentle blue giant named sandy (and his cat, mo), a studious yet freeloading human named tang—and a friendly human woman who works at the shop...

...who happens to be nicknamed reader.