#as in like it’s not that type of language

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

we cannot change who we are at our core.

type: limited series, part 1 (6.4k) in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

Whenever she woke up marked the last day of the rest of your life. One moment, the world inside of your head was unnervingly quiet. The next, someone else was there, whispering in the dark, taking over.

You aren't proud of her. No, you hate her. There is no one you hate more, you don't think, because she lets the direction of the fucking wind distract her from what really matters. She paints her environment in a soft, glazed picture, and she tries to hold up her canvas and convince you that her reality is real. But then you blink, and you get flashes of how dull the sky really is and the dirt that stains your shoes, and you know that she's just a liar.

A controlling, desperate thief.

When you heard her voice for the first time, you begged your reflection in the mirror to just kill you already.

If you were an alpha, maybe you could've just drawn away into yourself and lived a quiet life in the middle of nowhere. If you were a beta, perhaps the weight of nothing would've given you a little more freedom to do the things you wanted to do.

But no. You're an omega. Nature's servant. A natural follower. Destined for nothing except to open your legs and say, "yes, alpha, all for you," because if you are anything but complacent, you're unwanted and a waste of your very being.

Your eyes stung when you took your first little pill. They rattled in different colors in a little orange bottle, and it felt like sand as it dissolved under your tongue. Even though it makes you sick, you take them anyways. Even though the pills change colors and shape and efficacy because you buy them from someone different every time, you take them because it makes your omega shut the fuck up finally.

You bury her. And you won't let her out.

The truth of it is that you're only fighting yourself. Your omega, she is you, isn't she? She's a part of you, she makes up your very genetic makeup, and to hate her is to hate yourself. But nature is cruel–it gave you years of freedom. Years to know what life was like without her, when she was dormant, asleep, just waiting for you to finally wake up.

Then your very self locked the cage. Your fingers claw at the bars, but it's no use. It's your very own punishment. So in turn, you bury her, too, silencing her cries, quieting what she wants most in the world, because it isn't fair, fuck you, you whiny bitch.

She's a pathetic puppy; and you are more than happy to step on her fucking neck.

Your aim is off today. The sound is muffled through the earphones you wear, but they've never thrown off your balance before. When you lean over the railing and squint at the target papers towards the back, you can see the bullet holes just a few inches off center.

You're never off-center.

"Getting rusty on me, Kit?"

You turn around, setting the gun down, and you smile wide when you see a familiar face. You pull the headphones off, putting them aside before making your way towards her.

Kate Laswell is surprised when you throw your arms around her and hug her tight. She smells good; she smells like chocolate, dark chocolate, something bittersweet. She's got that edge to it that they all do, something a little heady and all-encompassing, but she's the only alpha that you've ever found comfort being near. You see her nose scrunch a little when she embraces you back.

You must stink like synthetics. You care, only because you hate to make her nose sting this way. It's never been meant for her. At times, you thought maybe you could do a little convincing; maybe if you batted your lashes enough, she’d take pity on you, hide you away in some CIA shack with her deep on a Montana farm and play house. You’d cook, and she’d protect, and you’d be perfect little alpha and omega until the end of your days.

But Kate doesn’t like baggage. Not even the sweet kind, and especially not the kind that makes it even more difficult to make the hard decisions.

Kate isn’t a soldier. She makes choices based on the greater good, the lesser evil. She doesn’t get to be selfish. She doesn’t have that luxury.

When you pull away, she looks down at you strangely. She looks tired. Her dark hair is in a mess of a braid tucked under a cap, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her attempt of a smile emphasizes the lines around her eyes. You open your mouth to tell her something, but she shakes her head.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it into your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't–"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next. Her face makes you anxious, and the scent in the car that changes puts you on edge.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not really CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

Program. UK. Field assignment. Mate. All the keywords to make your stomach curl and your autonomy shrink in front of your very eyes.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. You soften your voice, and you let your omega drip syrup into it. You want to see her eyes dilate–you want to make her protectiveness kick in just enough that she might just appease you. It’s desperate, and you know it’s wrong, but you do it anyways, you have to. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised–"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply. She pities you, that much you can tell. She looks pained, but it doesn’t matter how pained she might feel because it isn’t happening to her. It’s happening to you, and she put you on that base so that it wouldn’t happen to you, and she tricked you into getting into this car, and now it’s her–

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

You promised me. You gave me your word.

"I can't–"

But the CIA can’t be trusted for shit.

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. Appease. Beg. Bare your neck. Give her what she really craves. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to–"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. It aches. Despite you never leaning towards her, it is still an alpha turning their nose up at you, and the thing inside of you cries at the feeling; she begs you to do more, but you swallow her down, fingers itching for another pill just so you can really squash her singing. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. You scrunch your face at her touch. Her hands are cold, and they do not welcome you. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. Her thumbs stroke your cheeks in soft circles. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there, and I can’t take you with me. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head preening. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. You’re panicking, and maybe she’s trying to help, but you hate her. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."

You rip yourself away from her, curling into yourself as you scoot away from her as far as possible. You press yourself against the door, tucking your knees into your chest. Whatever passes by outside is a blur, and your brain doesn’t register any of it. The only thing in your head is betrayal, traitor, those sick, stupid bastard alphas, all of them–

"Fuck your promises," you whimper, and when she reaches out for you again, you flinch, burying your face into your hands.

Kate is a liar. She never keeps her promises; that’s her job, it is what she does. The CIA is nothing if they aren’t incredible liars–it’s what they’re known for, and Kate takes to it like a fish to water. As far as you are concerned, she lured you in with bait, and now she's shut the door on a trap. It is lined with padding, soft, delicate, but it still holds you back, it still keeps you still and stagnant and forever chained to an existence that you detest more than anything. She used you; it was in her best interest to keep an omega under her thumb, to do with you as she pleased when she needed one, and you suppose once you are taken, she will find another to do the same with. She will give another desperate one like you false hope, and when she needs another omega to keep someone else complacent and willing, she will offer them up with her signature on paper–just like that.

She tries to touch your hand before you board the plane. She tries to meet your eyes, get your attention, anything. You cower when she reaches out, and when she steps backwards, you walk on.

You never look behind yourself. Not even when you sit, and not even as the ramp closes shut.

Fighting is futile when you are who you are. It's unexpected. It's frowned upon. You are made up of something that is intended to be docile, to be big-eyed and soft. If you were a dog, they would want you to roll over and bare your belly and forget how to do anything but obey, but that is not the kind of thing that you ever wanted to be, even when you were small, even before you knew what you really were.

You hate what you are. You medicate yourself to the point of being incoherent, you bare your teeth and aggravate the submissive nature you inherit to deter any kind of match. You make yourself undesirable, not just in your physical nature but in the very essence of yourself.

You want to start over, as something else, or you want to never have been at all. You hate this place, you want them to cast you out, you want to be left to your own devices because dying alone and unwanted is better than submission; it;s better than the imprisonment that your kind subjects themselves to, willing or not.

It sickens you. You watch your own kind fall to their knees, close their mouths, and allow their very being to disappear just to make another satiated. Happy. Their entire lives, reduced to being someone else's waiting hand, someone else's property. It's sad, it's pathetic, it rocks you to the very center of yourself, and you demand more of it, you reject this life and the voice in your head that fights with you every single day of it.

She hates you, too, your omega. She claws at your insides and begs for something to drink, but you dry her out. You don't allow her to even breach the surface of the wasteland you've suffocated her with. She is naïve; she doesn't know what is good for her, she doesn't know that you are saving her from a life of constant torture. She screams for you to let her out, but you take another pill and force her back into the dark.

Or at least you did. You haven't taken a pill in days. They won't let you, even when you asked, even when you began to beg. You promised to be good if they just appeased you. You promised to be quiet if they just slipped it under your tongue, even if they injected it into your very veins, anything, just please, please, I don't want to–

Everything is surreal. You feel like you're seeing everything in color. What used to be dull and uninteresting now sparkles in your very eyes, it glows under the sun. Everything is sharper and less blurry. Sounds are clearer. You can hear the wind more loudly in your ears and feel it under the soles of your shoes. But what dizzies you the most is your sense of smell.

Everything before had been so bland. You have been under the effects of suppressors for so long that you don't think food has ever smelled so bad and so good (eggs make you gag now, and the crisps they give you make your mouth water).

They keep you confined in a small room. You are not allowed in the presence of any alphas; you can smell them passing by the door, but whenever the stink of one of them lingers, there's loud voices, lots of heavy boots. A beta comes to collect you to do a daily workout and to shower, and then you are back in your room, your meals delivered on a tight schedule (and the food, after a few days of your tray being barely picked at, gets so much better–it's better quality than you've seen on any military base, and when you asked, all they said was "lieutenant's orders").

Today is different. Today, along with your breakfast, a large black hoodie is folded underneath the tray that they leave on the end of your bed. You set the food aside, picking up the hoodie, and when you unravel it, you spread it out, gawking at the size of it. Whoever this hoodie belongs to is more bear, more beast, than human. An enormous thing, but when you pick it up, you immediately pick up on its strong scent.

You press the front of it to your nose. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sink into the bed a little as you take a deep breath of it. Warm, but gritty, like charcoal. Cigarettes. Military-issue soap. Clean. Eucalyptus. Fire. Something with depth, something with teeth. You don't realize what's happening to you until it's too late.

Alpha. It smells undoubtedly like alpha, and you're certain by the size of it that it belongs to one. You nuzzle your face into it a little, instinctively, and you don't even register your omega knocking, peering through the door that's been cracked open for her.

She squeals with delight. She's getting dizzy, drunk, and you feel a soft noise in your chest bubble as she pets the back of your mind, keening at the introduction of it. She’s giggling. You can feel her tugging at your insides, whispering in your ear–See? I told you. I told you that you’d like it.

They smell strong. They smell capable. They smell pure.

When you put the hoodie down, your legs are pressed together, shaking from how hard your thighs are squeezed. When you relax, you refrain from the need to touch yourself, but you failed before you even started. You can feel how wet you are; your panties must be soaked, and you feel yourself pulsing with some sort of distinct urge to give in, give in, give in.

It's unnerving, the lack of control you have. Your omega has always been a few feet underwater, but she's breaching the surface now, her lips gasping for air.

You try to push her back.

Stay down.

When the clock strikes for dinner, you aren't surprised by the knock. But you are surprised that when the door opens, there isn't a beta in uniform holding your tray. Instead, you cover your nose a little, blinking harshly as a large man comes into the room. He's got a strange beard and a floppy hat, and when he smiles, he reminds you of a teddy bear. You can tell just by his physique what he is, but his eyes are kinder than you're used to.

You will yourself not to trust them. You trusted kind eyes before, and now you’re locked in a prison of your own making.

"'ello," he introduces himself, holding out his hand. "'m Captain John Price. 's nice to meet you."

You glare at him, not saying a word. When he figures you won't shake his hand, he just nods. He lets his hand drop, hooking his thumbs into his tact vest, and he rests at ease.

"I've come to collect you," he says lowly. "It's time."

You pick up your tray of food from behind you and hurl it towards him. He ducks just in time, moving one shoulder backwards as the metal hits the wall behind him and clatters to the floor in a splattered mess. John shakes his head a little, scratching the back of his neck, and he clicks his tongue. You’re unnerved and a little pissed off when a hint of a grin flickers over his face.

"Fuckin' hell," he breathes. "Yeah...you'll do."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's go," John snaps. "Won't ask again."

When he reaches for you, you swipe the fork from the bed, stepping close and sticking the little prongs up against his chin. You aren’t satisfied until you can feel his scratchy beard against it, piercing the skin just enough.

"If you touch me, I'll shove this right up your chin through your goddamn nose," you threaten, and John’s nostrils flare, his hands going up flat beside his head.

"Easy," he murmurs, and you feel like he’s talking to a skittish mare. "Just need to guide you, that's all."

"Well, I don't want to go anywhere."

"If you don't do this, I have to send you back," John explains. "And Kate made it very clear that is supposed to be my last resort. And you don't want to go back."

"Anything is better than this," you hiss, and he narrows his eyes.

"Not this. What they do to unruly omegas..." He leans forward, snarling a little. "Ones like you. Ones that bite. And scratch. They don't deal with them. They'll sedate you and use you as training practice. And while Kate might have a heart big enough to keep you outta that place, I don't have it. So get your arse moving. Now."

You put your hand down, dropping the fork, letting it clatter to the floor. He grips you by the collar of your shirt, urging you forward, and all the hairs stand up on the back of your neck as he gets dangerously close to scruffing you. It's enough of a threat that you immediately relax, your own body betraying your emotions as it tries to make itself smaller. To appease. To submit.

"This can't wait any longer," John mutters. "Has to happen today."

Your lip trembles.

"What has to happen today?" You ask.

"You're meeting your mate," he says. You know that was the answer, but you had to ask it anyways. You think of the hoodie you received all those hours ago. The smell of him, complete intoxication. "Simon."

Simon.

"Sounds like an asshole," you snap, irritated, and John chuckles a little.

"Mmm. He is. You'll adore 'im."

You flinch at the flickering fluorescent lights as he leads you down a narrow hallway. When you pass other soldiers, John puts you in front of him, glaring and baring his teeth a little. You're confused by this sudden display of aggression on your behalf, but when you spot the looks in others’ eyes, you're grateful for it nonetheless.

You know your scent is strong; piercing the walls around you, displaying your displeasure, discomfort, fear so plainly. It's an awful thing to not be able to hide how you feel, to not feel like you have any control over how you present to others, but you have no practice masking any of it. You have been drowning your omega for so long that you didn't realize the strength of her building up behind the synthetic walls you had built. She's livid, angry, permeating the spaces in your mind that you thought were solid and now are broken and hollow inside.

You stop in front of an unmarked door. John looks over you, eyeing the jacket you wear.

"Take tha' off," he says lowly. You frown, stepping back, but he nods again. "Take it off. You'll get it back, just give it to me."

You shrug your jacket off gently, handing it to him. John holds out his hand for yours, and when you cautiously give it to him, he rubs the fabric against your wrists to soak it in your scent before disappearing behind the door. You wait outside, pressing your ear to the metal, but you hear nothing but low mumbles. You do hear a heavy gait, big feet moving around that don't belong to Captain Price, and you close your eyes as you try and see if you can hear his voice.

You don't.

The door is opened just slightly, John cocking his head to the side.

"He wants to see you."

You raise a brow.

"Your mutt?" You ask smartly, and John scoffs a little, kicking the door open wide finally. Behind it, you can see a small little office situated. Dozens of file cabinets, a stained wooden desk, a peeling leather chair. There are papers everywhere, a disorganized mess and walls filled with medals, plaques, letters, pictures of faceless men. And standing beside the desk, towering over it with his head nearly hitting the ceiling is a bear.

A fucking bear.

He's so tall. Over six feet of hulking man, big shoulders taking up too much space. You can tell just by looking at him that he has to duck his head and move his body sideways to get through the doorway you're standing in. He has big hands and thick thighs, and your lips part when you realize his thigh holster has been released as much as possible just to still fit snugly around him. He's wearing dark jeans and a thick black hoodie, and he looks even bigger with a strapped tact vest that holds numerous little gadgets, weapons (fuck, he looks like he can kill you with the pencil laying haphazard beside him).

You can't see his face. He covers it with a mask, a snug covering tucked under his hoodie with the plastic front plate of a skull sewn to its front. He's holding your jacket in one hand, the other clenched in a tight fist as you step through the door.

"Is this your dog, Captain?" You ask finally. Simon doesn't speak. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you, taking in the way you look from the tips of your combat boots all the way up over your head. His gaze lingers on your middle, the wideness of your hips and the curve of your body.

John crosses his arms over his chest.

"Suppose so," John shrugs, rolling his eyes a little. You blink, finally making eye contact with Simon. His eyes are dark and beady. He's intense, just as his scent had been. Your omega warms your throat and screams in your ear.

Grab him. Latch onto him. Don’t let him go. Do you see him? Look at him–

"Does it bark?" You wonder, glaring. Simon unclenches his fist, rolling his fingers out a little. They twitch beside his leg. His face twitches a little, too, you can see the mask move just slightly.

"When he wants to."

"Does it bite?"

John snorts. "Mmm. Afraid so." He opens the door behind him. "Don't kill each other. If I don't see her for supper, Simon, I'll hold you to it."

When you are alone, Simon still remains silent. He hasn't moved from his spot by the desk, still in a strange staring contest with you as you stand there trying to read him. Like Kate, he's impossible; this time, you don't even have the luxury of looking over his face, although you suspect even without the mask, he must have mastered some kind of expression of nothingness. He seems like the kind of brute to give nothing away. Not even his displeasure.

"Hope you're good on a leash," you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest. "I like to go on walks."

His face moves under the mask again. Finally, he moves. He unravels your jacket in his hand, holding it open for you to put on again. You eye him strangely before coming closer to fit your arms into it.

When you turn your back to him, you realize how much of his shadow you're tucked under. When he drops the fabric back on your shoulders, you still as he leans over one side of you, bending. Without thinking, your head tilts to the side, giving him more space into the side of your neck. You do it without even thinking. Your omega bleeds through you, and you feel her warmth everywhere now, making you move, but you let her this time.

Your scent gland pulses there under your ear. He can see it, hear it practically, rushing like the blood in his ears. You close your eyes when you feel him come closer, the cotton of his mask just barely grazing your neck as he takes a deep breath.

The growl he lets out shakes you to your core. Your pupils get blown wide at the sound, and your head flops back slow, exposing more of your neck. He uses the opportunity to bend just that much more, until the front of his mask is pressed against the gland, and he can breathe you in, right at the source.

He's snarling under the mask. You can hear his teeth knock together, his tongue wetting his lips. You shiver, leaning into him, your hand raising up to caress the back of his neck as he nuzzles his nose there, taking another deep breath. You step back enough that he presses up against you from behind. You can feel his pelvis right against your ass, and you arch your back just enough to fit him right where he belongs. A gloved hand catches you at your waist, and you put your free hand on the desk in front of you until his cock is right there between your ass.

Your omega is panting. She's clawing, right there at the edge, fighting against quicksand as she's desperate to meet him. The feeling of him, the scent of him so close, it's an aphrodisiac, potent, suffocating. Something warm is wrapping around you, sliding along your skin, tickling your toes. It's between your thighs, in your mouth, wetting your tongue. You're not sure what this feeling is, but it's thrilling.

He's purring. Big, rumbling sounds coming from deep in his chest. More animal than man as his tongue comes out under the mask, and you can feel him lick a nice stripe over the raised, warm skin under your ear. Your omega is being pulled to the forefront. She’s like a magnet to him. The closer he gets, the stronger she bites into you. Your mouth drops open when his hand falls between your thighs, gripping onto you and pulling you up against him in one, slow grind. You can feel the length of him, fucking enormous, and you’re leaking into your cargos as his fingers squeeze the fat of your thigh.

"Fuck–okay!" You pull away abruptly, turning to face him. You put your hands on his chest and push him back a little. He doesn’t move at your touch, but your voice startles him enough that he moves his hands up and away from you. He straightens up, blinking away the haze in his eyes, and you swallow hard. "T-Too much..."

He huffs, moving forward to bury his face into your neck again, but you step back, putting a hand on his chest firmer this time. You have stepped out of the cloud that surrounds him, but you can still taste it, and it’s pulling you back, and you’re losing control.

"Simon," you say his name gently, and he stops, his face scrunching a little under the mask before he stands back up again. "If I have to be your mate...we need to set some boundaries." He blinks, saying nothing. "Like...a-asking for permission."

You can tell by the way his mask twitches that he doesn't usually ask for permission. He wants, and he receives.

Typical.

“What?” You ask, scoffing. “You don’t talk?”

He doesn’t move. You crane your neck to look up at him a little better, and you smooth your hands lower on his chest. You can’t help but appreciate what you feel. He’s wearing a tactical vest, but you can still feel the deep breaths he’s taking, the strong, fatty muscle under your palms. He is the epitome of sheer strength and undeniable ability. Your omega draws your hands back up his chest, over his pecs that pull taut, and they wind up around his neck as you stand up on your toes and lean into the curve of his jaw. You put your nose to it, barely. Simon moves his hands down, cupping you under your ass and picking up your weight with not even a grunt until you can press your face deep into him.

Fuck, it’s like a drug. It’s addictive. His scent impales you. He smells like war. Like chaos and smoke, and your mouth starts to water as you keep breathing him in. You pull back just enough, blinking up at him. You look a little dizzy and intoxicated, and he squeezes your ass to hold you steady as he puts you back onto your feet.

“Uhm…” You sniffle a little, holding onto him. Your hands curl around his shoulders, and you keep yourself upright like this. “I didn’t wanna be here. I don’t…I don’t want this. I never did.” You blink away tears, but he sees them when you draw your eyes back up to his. “T-They made me. It hurts.”

“Wot hurts?”

His voice scares you when you finally hear it. Your lip shakes, and when you blink again, your tears fall down your face. Simon snarls when he sees them, reaching up with hands too rough and wiping them off your face, but they keep coming.

“I’ve never been o-off my meds–” You gasp, and your breaths start to come in panicked and too fast. “Everything hurts. T-The lights are too bright, everything hurts my nose, the sheets are too itchy, and I-I can’t breathe–”

Simon moves away from you immediately. He closes a fist and pounds the lightswitch, and only the yellow glow of the lamp on his desk illuminates the room. You curl into yourself, hugging your own arms, and Simon comes back to stand in front of you, narrowing his eyes.

“I did not want you either.”

“That’s just grand, this is perfect,” you hiccup, and Simon grunts.

“But I have orders.”

“You act like your Captain is just debriefing you for a fucking mission,” You snap, glaring at him. “I’m a fucking person. I know your kind may not see us that way, but I am. I’m not a mission. I’m not something for you to win or to conquer, you fucking asshole!”

When you raise a hand to hit him, he catches your wrist before it lands. He squeezes just enough to hold you at arm’s length, and you lean forward and spit on him instead. It wets the mouth of his mask, and he nearly loses himself as his eyes flash with something dark. He looks away from you for a moment to collect himself. When he turns back, he uses his other hand to cup the back of your head, silencing you.

“You listen ‘ere, omega–” The way he says your title makes the fight in you shrink. Your omega squeaks, ducking her head, that bubble of submission pilling in your throat as he holds you so close to your naked scent gland. “Dunno wot anyone told you, but I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” He ducks his head, pulling you closer, and you freeze when he presses his masked mouth at the base of your pulsing scent gland. It wafts into his nose, dilating his pupils, and he snarls. “And when you inevitably lose control of yourself–you already fuckin’ are, you reek of it–I’m goin’ to sink my teeth right ‘ere, and then it won’t fuckin’ matter ‘ow you feel.”

Your eyes blur with angry tears. You gasp, your breaths hitching, and Simon seems to feed off of your fear, your misery. If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you imagine he’d be licking your tears for a chance to taste your sadness. The worst part of it all is that your omega adores it. She’s been aching for so long for this kind of authority. For that edge to tickle her right under her chin where she likes it. The whiff of alpha that she’s getting is driving her out of control, and you don’t know how make her quiet down. She’s so loud in your head, banging against the walls–give it to him, give it to him, give it to him.

“You’re a fucking monster,” you whisper, glaring up at him. It’s no use–you will never scare him. Simon is what scares other alphas into submission. In one paw, he could crush your windpipe if he wanted to, with just a squeeze. Simon hums, and you imagine him smiling under that mask, some kind of vicious grin that you would love to smack off of him.

“Tha’s right, swee’eart,” Simon mutters. “I am. ‘n now you belong t’me. Everything that you are–” He smooths his hand down your neck. You seize when his hand slides over the curve of your waist until it cups under your ass and forces you up against him. “‘s mine. Your omega–’s mine. Your mouth–mine. Your arse–mine. That cunt that’s going to take my knot like a good little omega should–mine. So y’r gonna get y’r things, and y’r gonna move them into my quarters, and then we’re gonna go get supper, and y’r gonna shut y’r fuckin’ mouth.”

“I hate you. You’re the biggest son of a bitch I have ever met in my entire life, you are exactly the kind of asshole I knew you would be, you are no different than I thought. You’re a terrible, awful, horrible–”

“I can smell you,” Simon snaps. “Don’t try to be fuckin’ smart with me, I can smell how wet your cunt is, so why don’t you just be a good girl and do as I say?”

You bare your teeth a little, and Simon sticks a gloved thumb into your mouth. Without thinking, you relax. You suck it into your mouth and sigh, and Simon rubs his thumb against your tongue, shutting you up nice and well. He traces your teeth with it, and you start to cry. You cry because you don’t know why you can’t fight. Your grip his forearm, but your nails won’t dig. Your feet are planted to the ground, and you can’t move. Your mouth sucks, and he pushes, and you’re frozen here.

He knows what to do. Doesn’t he taste so good?

He seems to like your teary eyes. The big, fat tears. His eyes crinkle, and you know he’s smiling, and you wish you could rip that expression off his face, but all that stares back at you is death. Simon growls, and every bit of resistance in you fails. Slow, like molasses, your knees buckle, and he catches you. He pets your mouth, and when he leans in and presses his mouth to your ear, all you can do is cry.

“That’s it. Good kitty.”

NEXT

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The way Nanami subtly doms you

Tags: dom!Nanami x fem!Reader, sub!Reader, dom/sub relationship, NO age regression, sub space.

An: yeah idk i feel like nanami’s very subtle with his domming style, but i see shiu kong as full on dom.

• Nanami isn’t the type to flex his dominance over you. He doesn’t have to be rude or degrading to drive the point home. You know exactly when he gives you that look, it means to behave. His hazel eyes cut in your direction, and his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, like he’s amused by your disobedience. However, he doesn’t smile — doesn’t reward bad behavior.

• “Want to say that again?”, “Language.”, “Didn’t I tell you no pouting?” when you’re being a brat and mouthing off. bonus points if he’s pulling his tie away from his neck and slowly wrapping it around his palm.

• It’s simple, but he gives you his hoodies or coats to wear when you’re out and about. He likes seeing his clothes encompassed your body, and he enjoys that everyone will immediately be able to tell just whose you are.

• Speaking of clothes, Nanami’s not the type to tell you when you can and can’t wear something. He’s confident in his abilities to keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean he won’t make suggestions. “Are you sure about the skirt, sweetheart? I don’t want your legs getting cold.”

• He takes great care of you in an inconspicuous manner. He’ll adjust your clothes on you, buttoning up your top or gently fixing your unruly hair. He’ll throw your towel and pajamas (that he picked out for you) in the dryer when you’re in the shower, so they are all warm and cozy for you when you get out.

• Nanami is also the type to set a pretty firm bedtime for you. He knows how much you like to stay up and how ill you get in the mornings if you hadn’t had a minimum of 8 hours of rest. So, he sets you on a pretty strict bedtime schedule and routine. Don’t worry. He’s there every night to cuddle you to sleep.

• Insistent that you hold his hand while you two are out. He knows how distractible you are, and it eases his mind when your palm rests in his.

• The way he talks can throw you straight into a more submissive headspace, and he knows it too. He doesn’t do it often, but when he notices you getting too stressed or burnt out, he’ll immediately start with the dom talk, “My baby needs a break, doesn’t she?” He’ll coo and pull you into his lap, and when you inevitably lean into his touch, “There she is. Did my baby miss me?”

• Nanami sees it as a gentlemanly thing, but it could also be seen as another form of domming. He doesn’t let you touch a single door handle if he’s with you, and you best believe he’s walking on the outside. You’re tucked beside him on the inside of the sidewalk. He’ll also never let you hold a shopping bag. No, he does not care that he’s holding a bunch of Victoria’s Secret and Ulta bags. He pays for everything. If your car needs gas, Nanami fills it up.

• On the off chance that you two are out, and he’s not right beside you, all he has to do is curl his finger and point at the ground in front of him to let you know that he wants you to come to him, and you better do as you’re told.

• The king of giving simple stern instructions. “Look at me.” “Speak up, baby.”, “Come here, now.”, “Give me a kiss.”, “Ask nicely.”

• Nanami will sit on the couch, spread his legs, and pat his knee when he wants you to sit on his lap. He doesn’t even have to give simple instructions for that.

• Even while he does all this, he respects your independence, autonomy, and intelligence. Let’s bffr rn he’s your biggest supporter in everything you do. He’s so in love with you because he knows how smart and hard working you are. He’s so damn lucky that he gets to be the man to pamper you and ease your weary mind. He loves being that safe space for you, so you can just relax, lean on him, and just be you.

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[xx-reverie-xx]

🖤Sevika HCs🖤

just random sevika hcs. broken up into categories for general, romantic, and nsfw headcanons respectively.

i didn’t try very hard while writing this, so my writing is probably subpar here but…yolo.

men dni. minors dni. men dni. minors dni.

safe for enby lesbians. ♥️

general

* raging butch lesbian 🧡🤍🩷.

* her place is messy but in an organized chaos sort of way.

* she smells like cigar smoke (in a good way), leather, and peppery mahogany.

* collects bottle caps. i can’t explain it, i just have a feeling she would!!

* has very, very cool, gay aunt vibes!!!

* actually an excellent cook.

* her carabiner is on the left side. she keeps the basics on it, so just her keys and one or two old key chains she has.

* in a modern au she would be into classic cars and the process of restoring them. her dream car is a 1970 mustang boss.

* on the topic of vehicles i can see her as a biker too. like, imagine seeing her taking off that helmet … swoon! imagine being her backpack … SWOON AGAIN!!!

romantic

* loves hugging you from behind

* if you’re with her at the last drop, she has her arm around you constantly. if it’s not that, she’s having you sit on her lap.

* this woman is a capital F Flirt. will talk you up one side and down the other like it’s nothing. if you’re just someone she happens to lock eyes with at the bar, you guys could go back and forth with flirting and banter.

* BUT if you and sev have been together for a bit flirting can get her flustered from time to time. you know *just* what to say to her to make her short circuit a little bit. no one can get under her skin the way you can. /pos

* calls you baby. if you’re a femme, she calls you her femme.

* surprisingly soft lips.

* kissing her feels like a dream.

* sevika prefers a partner who can take care of themselves. after all, she’s a busy woman and she can’t always come to your rescue.

* her giving love language is acts is service. need something fixed? in classic butch fashion, she’s absolutely got you covered. do you drink coffee or tea in the morning? she’s got a cup ready for you in the morning, *just* the way you like it. she’ll do anything for you when she’s got the time.

* her receiving love language? words of affirmation. she likes to know that you think she’s *good*. that she’s doing a good job and that you see that.

* would be so fucking whipped for you. you’re on her mind all the time. smiles when little things make her think of you. memorizes every little detail about you every chance she gets.

* she doesn’t have a type. like, at all.

nsfw

* stone top. there. i said it.

* nipple piercings 🙈.

* oh, she is eating that thang. this woman is a munch. she would know just how to lick or suck you to make you come before you know it. it’s a very personalized experience.

* she learns you inside and out. knows every. little. thing that makes you tick.

* vocal. like, as in, she talks. she’s dirty about it too. all “oh, yeah? you like that baby?”, “be good for me, i know you can take it” or “i know what’s good for you, now fucking take it”. she talks you through it every time.

* has a collection of straps. different strokes for different folks, am i right?

* touching on one of her receiving love languages being words of affirmation …

* she loves to be praised.

* it’s something she would never explicitly ask you to do. it’s a subtle thing.

* it’s in the way she short circuits when you tell her how good she’s doing, how good she makes you feel. you can tell she likes that, knowing that she is good for you, in the way her hands tremble or her hips stutter or, if she’s going down on you, the way her eyes go soft.

* she will fuck you senseless and then be so, so sweet on you after. makes sure you’re taken care of, that there’s something for you to drink, has towels ready for you incase you don’t feel like showering for a while after you finish. seriously, it’s like two different people.

okay thats it. i am obsessed with this woman and just wanted to share some headcanons i had for her while i finish up a fic i’m trying to write🎠.

cant believe my first writing here was some random hcs but whatever!!!

requests currently open for multiple fandoms, including arcane :).

dividers by cafekitsune

[venusbyline]

Treatment ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 29, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Spencer Reid x college student!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: praise kink

— summary: Spencer needs to take out the frustrations of his professional life during sex with you, his girlfriend and his favorite student.

— word count: 1.2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 29th day, female!reader, girlfriend!reader, professor!Reid, praise kink, aftercare, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, body worship, hair-pulling, butt slapping, biting, teacher-student relationship (NO UNDERAGE), secret relationship, dumbification, squirting, dacryphilia, creampie, cum dripping, subspace, fluffy ending, table sex, rough kissing, soft!Reid, dom!Reid, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Ever since Spencer arrived at university stressed after a week solving an important case at the BAU, you knew he would need to take out all his frustration with you on sex. It was no longer news to the two of you how high Spencer's sex drive became after dealing with maniacal Unsubs, especially when he had to put up with so many students who seemed to have a below average IQ inside his classroom.

The opportunity to teach subjects focused on criminology, sociology and psychoanalysis had been incredible at first, but started increasingly unbearable as the final exams weeks approached. He was trying to get his students used to his assessment method little by little, giving them short and quick tests that contained only some topics that would be included in the final exams.

However, with each test he corrected, he cursed a different teenager. Spencer could barely read the answers without wanting to rip his eyes out of their eye sockets or tear his own skin. Maybe most of the students were really stupid and irresponsible, or maybe he was being very demanding due to the stress he was going through with the latest criminal case. After all, he could not judge someone's intelligence as truly inferior just because he had a real genius brain.

When Spencer saw that he would not be able to concentrate on correcting the tests, he huffed and threw randomly the pile of papers on his table, taking out his phone and sending an urgent text to you, his favorite student and secret girlfriend too.

Even though you were busy in the library studying for another professor's classes, you were more than a little eager when you saw the text from Spencer, or rather Doctor Reid, demanding your presence in his office immediately. You knew what was coming as soon as you had caught a glimpse of him walking through campus hallways earlier that day. He was stressed. And if Spencer was stressed, that meant you would suffer the consequences and be very rewarded later.

"T-This fucking good pussy!" Spencer growled, gripping your waist tighter, giving your ass a slap that made you roll your eyes in pleasure as he moved his hips deeper, more brutally, almost as if he wanted to break you into two parts.

You whimpered when the head of his cock almost hit your cervix, making you see stars. "S-Spencie!"

Your trembling moan came along with a sob, your legs shaking as you gripped the edge of his marble table, trying to steady yourself with each thrust, even though your legs were so weak that you were sure all the paperwork would fall to the floor soon. "You're doing so well, darling. Taking my thick cock inside you like a good girl..." He growled, lowering himself until his chest was against your back, biting your shoulder uncovered by the neckline of your dress. "My best student. The only one smart enough to be admitted to this stupid university."

You knew he was overreacting, but that did not stop you from smiling between moans, your pussy squeezing his cock even tighter while he praised you, fingers pressing the soft flesh of your ass and his lips whispering how smart and hot you were. His favorite. You would always be his favorite student.

Spencer pulled you by your hair, until you were standing as he held himself still inside you, grabbing your chin for a sloppy and aggressive kiss. His free hand pulled just one of your legs up onto the table, the new position making him hit deeper inside your tight pussy. "Fuck... You have no idea how much I needed this." Spencer moaned, taking advantage of the fact that you understood the angle he wanted to fuck you at and he held your hips to help you keep it that way. "I love your little pussy crushing me like that. So tight, even when I'm about to fill you with my cum. You want that, darling? Going around campus with my cum running down your thighs? For everyone to know that you're the best student ever?”

You did not answer your boyfriend, as you were too busy feeling your orgasm coming. Spencer's eyes rolled back as your ass began to bounce faster by the second and you started to moan loudly, forcing him to release your chin to cover your mouth. "Shhh, little girl... You don't want people to know that you're getting special treatment from your professor, don't you, darling? You want them to know how much I love fucking your pussy until you're a whining mess?"

You shook your head immediately, muffled sounds escaping when Spencer licked your neck, continuing to whispering and dirty talking to you, the fucking starting to get more intense after you climaxed and your hole started to get creamy due his pre-cum and your juices.

Noticing how your body began to shake more than normal and your walls were spasming, Spencer let go of your hips only to finger your clit, rubbing it so roughly that you screamed into his palm and finally came again, followed by the transparent liquid squirting from your pussy while Spencer continued fucking you. He stimulated your clit until he also was cumming, moaning in an almost guttural way as he watched the scene of you crying out and squirting, feeling you milking his cock until the last drop.

Spencer sighed at the overstimulation, withdrawing himself from you, causing you to groan in pain and melancholy at the sudden emptiness. "It's okay, darling. You were so good, you're always so good to me... my good girl." Spencer whispered, picking you up to lay you down on the table. It was not the most comfortable place possible for the aftercare, but both of you knew it was the most that having sex hidden in your university professor's office could offer you. He stroked your hair, taking a tissue from his briefcase so he could wipe off the remnants of his cum running down your thighs. He gave you a soft smile because you reflexively tried to pull yourself away, your mind still trapped into the subspace. "It's just me, darling. You're okay. I just need to clean you up now. Is that okay, my girl?"

You nodded weakly and also a little confused, low but less scared whimpers coming from your lips. Spencer was careful not to hurt your already so sensitive and sore core. "My beautiful little girl. You're so perfect, darling. I'm so proud of you..." You smiled with your eyes closed, hearing his husky but loving voice.

Spencer took charge of taking care of you during that moment, placing a soft kiss on your temple, putting your panties back on and fixing your dress. Spencer caressed your head, admiring your weak and sleepy form, trying his best to hold back the giggle that wanted to escape as he noticed that the papers containing his students' tests were damp with random drops from your sudden squirt.

He would have to think about some convincing explanation to give to the university president regarding the stains on those papers. However, for now, the only thing Spencer would do was make sure you were physically and emotionally fine again so both of you could return to your proper responsibilities when the next class started.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[cao-tick]

I wanna know too what interest people have.

Like, people how likd series and accualy care about the plot, what series you like? What series makes people wanna make a conversation over that [what happend, what will, what did not, what should have, what you wanted o want to happend...].

And you! People that love animals, why one you love most? What type of animal you have an amound of tiny silly funny curious amazing infomation? Or, the cousins of thous, who love to talk about there pets! Tell me about it, tell me what little itti ditti stories of them makes you just happy.

On the other hand, people who just loooove problems, which have you now strumbleing the back of you mind while you breakfast? I know some people who are small pockets of information about this actually important problem and wants to give information.

Also, music! Is there someone out there is the cold music indutry who just loves making music? Hows that feeling? On the other part of the coin, is there someone how is in this cool fandome base about songs? [Like Mystyrie Skully? I only enjoy music and never think about it]

And more! Literature, languages, poetry, narration... Art, drawing, painting, dancing, sculturing, theatre, performance... Videogames, rpg games, horror games [or podcast/book], wii games, fuking animal crossing [IS there someone who just loves to decor????]

normalize having interests.

guys. i swear. apparently, society decided its "shameful" or "childish" to actually care about things. especially if those things bring you comfort or joy.

you shouldn't have to be ashamed about your interests as long as they don't hurt anyone. you find a certain game or topic cool? you know a lot about the lore of this show, or a bunch of facts about a certain animal?

awesome. cause i wanna know. tell me about the things you care about.

special interests, hyperfixations, or just things you love and put a lot of time into.

cause if society is gonna shame us for having interests, i'm gonna shame them right back for telling us not to.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[7:19 pm]

(based on this TikTok)

"And I can't just sit around and keep waiting," You sigh, threading your fingers through your hair in frustration. "You told me you weren't ready for a relationship and for months I've been waiting and I've been patient. But Jeno, I'm starting to think I'm waiting for nothing and wasting my time. Am I right?"

Jeno doesn't say anything. He doesn't even have it in him to look you in the eye right now. His eyes remain focused on a single pulled thread on his sleeve. He can't find the words you want to hear or even the words to begin to explain how deeply he feels for you.

"I guess that's enough of an answer. Bye, Jeno." He hears your voice before the front door opens. The loud sound of the heavy rainfall meets his ears for just a second before he jumps up and follows you out. You're already soaked to the bone in the few moments you've been outside.

"Get back inside!" Jeno yells out.

You turn to look at him and it's then that Jeno notices your red eyes. Even with the rain he can tell you're crying and it makes him feel awful.

Jeno sighs to himself and hypes himself up before chasing after you. The cold water immediately makes him tense, makes him yearn for the warmth of his home, his comfortable couch with a movie on and you by his side.

He grabs your hand and pulls you closer. He loves the way your hand fits in his, loves the warmth and the softness that's always there. "I love you, alright?" Jeno yells over the pounding rain, "I love you and I'm the world's most stupid man to have kept someone like you waiting for me. I was nervous and I was scared that making us official would change everything for the worse. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you."

Your eyes widen at his confession, heart pounding in your ears even harder than the drops of water pounding against the floor. His hair is drenched and his oversized sweater hangs heavily on his lithe frame as the water weighs it down. You look into his eyes and see the fear, the apprehension, and the anxiety.

Jeno has always been the type to show you he cared for you as more than a friend with his actions. He'd get you small gifts, act affectionately, press kisses to your temples or hold your hand. He did all of this and refused to commit to you in an official relationship, not wanting to make things official for some fear he hadn't voiced until now.

"Why now?" You ask quietly.

"Because I lost you for less than a minute and it felt like someone ripped my heart right out of my chest. Because you make every day I'm with you a million times better. Because you mean more to me than anyone I've ever met or will meet. Because I can't organize all the words of every language in the world to express to you how deeply I feel for you. Because you mean everything to me and I am nothing without you," Jeno confesses more quietly, pressing his forehead against your own as his hands come up to cup your cheeks.

The sound of the rain seems to quiet around the two of you, it's just your breaths that fill this tiny space between you. The cold has faded as your blood pumps throughput your body with excitement and adrenaline.

His eyes look different now. The look in his eyes tells you he's being genuine, he's looking at you like you were made for him.

You can't find it in you to respond, there's no way you can top his confession. Instead, you press your lips against his. It's a perfect fit. His lips are cold and chapped but there's a a hunger in the way his lips move. It's searing and passionate as he tastes your mouth, expresses his love through his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck as you kiss him back with as much passion and love as he does.

You both pull away, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jeno smiles at you, his cheeks rosy, "let's get inside. I'll give you some clothes and we can watch a movie."

You both get back inside, shivering for many minutes even after you're both bundled up under a blanket and cuddling, but there's no place else you'd rather be.

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fingering, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap it!), breeding, self pleasure (Rafe)

꥟꥟꥟

You had come over to hang out with Rafe. You both haven’t seen each other since yesterday since college was busy for you both. Rafe needed his daily dose of you, so he spammed texted you to sleepover.

So here you were, lying in his bed. Wearing just his old football jersey and a pair of Calvin Kline underwear. You laid in his bed watching tv. Rafe was playing cod with the guys. His headset on but one ear off just in case you wanted to chat or needed anything. He sat in his gaming chair at his desk. His eyes glued to the monitor, but occasionally glanced over to you.

You watched the tv on his wall, enjoying the company and finding it funny how the boys talk in chat.

You felt drowsy, your eyelids felt heavier each blink. You moved your head into the pillow more, turning over to lay on your stomach as you went to sleep.

Rafe glanced over to you as he heard you shift around in bed. His eyes raked over you. Seeing the jersey had rode up resting on your kid back. Showing off one of his favourite things about you, your ass. He could stare at it all day if he could. His hands on it most of the time. But it was the fact that you laid in his bed. Tangled up in the covers, wearing his jersey. Looking peaceful and relaxed, that made him hard in his sweatpants.

He groaned as he looked down at his sweats, seeing the newly formed tent. He didn’t bother putting on boxers as he had only just got out of the shower and just wanted to throw something on. Besides he does it most of the time when he lounges around.

He turned his attention back to the game. Trying to calm down the hard on in his sweats. But he can’t help but look over to you every so often. He couldn’t do anything about it yet. You were asleep. And he wasn’t the type to do such things without you knowing. He knew better.

He moved his right hand over his bulge. His controller in his left hand. The guys and himself were in the lobby of the game. Some of the guys either going to the bathroom or getting snacks. He quickly muted himself.

Moving his hand into his boxers, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Stroking the long length of his as he thought about you sat on top of him on his gaming chair. Like you have many times.

He just couldn’t budge it. Not even his hand was helping anymore. He had enough. He was going to climb into bed and sleep it off. He quickly made an excuse for him to end the game with the guys. He logged off and turned his ps5 off.

He climbed into bed beside you. Pulling you close to him. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He soon fell asleep. Then to be only woken up at two in the morning. He groaned to himself when he felt his hips subconsciously grid against your side.

He was tried, so were you. But he had to get rid of it. And he’d know you’d most def would help him.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. Then whispering in his deep husky tired voice “baby�� need you to wake up f’me…”

You turned over, rubbing your eye “hm?”

He grinned softly “c’mon… I need some help… you looked so good in my jersey earlier… I couldn’t shift it…” he pressed his hard on against your hip to show you.

You resting your forehead against his lips “but ‘m tired, Rafey…” “I know, I know, could you just stay awake? I’ll do all the work… just relaxed and help me out, yeah?” God his voice did things to you no one could ever explain. His raspy along with the deep mess of the accent and his overall tone. Sent shivers down your spine.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, then your neck. Gently turning you over and lifting your right thigh up more. He moved his hand along your side and down to your entrance.

His palm against you, already feeling your underwear to be damp. He smirked lazily “that’s my girl…” he moved his hand in slow, lazy circles.

You moaned softly, he pulled your underwear to the side. Moving his middle finger inside of you. He lazily pushed it in and out. Curling his finger every other time. You pushed your ass back into his hard on. Causing him to groan and rock his hips into you.

He slipped his ring finger into you next. Prepping you for him. Causing you to tiredly rock your hips against his hand.

He pulled his fingers away and move his hand into his sweats. He then tugged his sweats down just enough to let his cock out. He was hung. No doubt about it. All the girls in college would die to get what you got most nights. But you took it all the way each time. Nothing like the girls he had in the past. Nothing compares to you.

He ran his tip along your slit, gently pushing it inside. Causing you to moan softly. He went in, inch by inch.

He moved his hand to your jaw. Holding it and turn your head enough so he could kiss you. As he would lazily and slowly thrust in and out of you.

You liked this side of him. Most of the time you both were rough or loud. This was quiet and relaxing for a change.

He bit your bottom lip gently as he pulls away a little. He looked into your eyes with pure lust. His lips brushing against yours as he mumbled “so fucking tight f’me… best fucking pussy, all mine, baby, yeah? All mine…love it so much” you moaned softly. Looking into his eyes with tiredness and attraction. God the look you’re giving him right now drove him insane.

He kept moving his large length in you. He moved a little so he was on top of you more. Getting a better angle and also going deeper in you. Causing you to moan a little louder. He moved his left hand next to your head in the bed, stabilising himself. As his right went under the jersey and over your breast. Massaging your breast as he rest his forehead on the side of your head. He breathing heavy and ragged.

He felt you tighten around him, causing him to groan lowly “fuuuccckk…”

He picked up his pace, you were about to moan when he shoved his hand over your mouth gently. He whispered “gotta stay quiet, baby, I don’t want the guys hearing how good I make you feel… don’t wanna wake em up now, yeah?” You nodded.

As you feel your climax approaching, Rafe smirked. Knowing your body inside and out. He knew you were close. He picked up his pace more. The room filled with heavy breathing and cheek smacking.

Your jaw slackens as you tighten around him and finish. He groans “thaaatss it, come all over my cock, yeah? Mhm fuck, so hot…”

He moved his mouth to your ear “want me to come in ya? Want it, baby? I know you do, tell me, do you?” You nodded “yes, Rafey, want you too… so bad, please…” he smirked.

Feeling himself finishing in you was amazing. Knowing it was him that made you feel this good and him being the one to finish in you, was a dream to him.

He stayed there for a moment. Giving you a ‘thank you’ kiss. He mumbled against your cheek “thank you for helping, babe… did so good f’me… I’ll treat you in the morning, you don’t have class till the afternoon… I’ll eat you out all morning, hm? Wanna do it so bad, been craving you…”

You nodded eagerly, one of your favourite things he does was just that.

He gently pulled out, watching his seed go down your thigh. He grabbed some tissues on the side of his bed and wiped it. Knowing you’d probably not want to sleep with it all over you.

Tossing the tissue into the trash can. He laid back beside you. Pulling on his sweats again. And wrapping his arms around your waist. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall back asleep.

And best believe he kept his word for the next morning.

꥟꥟꥟

[kiwriteswords]

could you write a hotch x reader story where reader is literally a knockout bombshell and the team meets her for the first time and both are humbled and shocked tht Hotch could pull that. Also maybe she works in different department of the FBI, but not BAU and derek and others have always talked about how hot reader is but happy id they cnt have reaader that hotch can!

The Beauty and The Boss

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: Thanks so much for the request! Sorry, it took me so long to get it written :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Tags/Warnings: Mild language, fade-to-black smut scene, reader wears makeup, workplace flirting, commentary about reader's appearance by BAU, jealous!Hotch, mention of a Holiday party, mentions of a bar scene.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner’s professionalism hides a secret: he’s been in a relationship with you, the stunning agent who turns every head at Quantico. While his team spends months admiring and teasing about you—unaware of the truth—Hotch quietly enjoys keeping the relationship private. But when the BAU holiday party reveals the truth, the team is left shocked, realizing the woman they’ve been swooning over is already spoken for by the man they least expected.

The Quantico breakroom buzzed with life as Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, a grin stretching across his face. “I’m telling you, there’s not a person in this building who doesn’t turn their head when she walks by.”

Emily Prentiss smirked, crossing her arms as she perched on the edge of the counter. “Understatement of the year, Morgan. She’s practically stopped traffic in the hallways more than once.”

Penelope Garcia, seated with her tablet, chimed in. “More like a goddess descended from Mount Olympus, wielding a to-do list and a killer power suit. The woman is unreal.”

You had no idea you were the current topic of conversation as you breezed through Quantico’s corridors. Your heels clicked against the tiled floor with the kind of authority only a seasoned professional carried. Your fitted blazer hugged your form just right, the kind of attire that screamed competence but still left a trail of stunned admirers in your wake. You were a boss, and you knew it—not in an arrogant way, but in the way a woman who worked twice as hard to get half as far in a male-dominated field knew her worth.

Little did they know that, as much as they admired you from afar, you had a certain someone who saw all those layers they missed—someone who knew how you carried the weight of your team, your projects, and your life with equal parts grace and grit.

That someone was Aaron Hotchner.

Unbeknownst to the BAU, the stoic Unit Chief had been keeping a significant secret. You and Aaron had been together for over a year. Though you both worked under the same massive roof, your respective departments didn’t often overlap—an intentional boundary to keep things professional and out of sight from prying eyes.

Aaron entered the room just as Morgan’s laughter rang out. “No, but seriously, Hotch, you’ve seen her, right? You can’t tell me someone that fine doesn’t have half the men here wrapped around her finger.”

Aaron’s sharp gaze flicked to Morgan, his jaw tightening subtly. “Morgan, shouldn’t you be focusing on case files rather than office gossip?”

Morgan raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, man, beauty like that deserves to be appreciated.”

Emily grinned. “Don’t let Strauss hear you. She’d have you running sensitivity training for a month.”

Garcia waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe Hotch is just annoyed because she’s his type. Dark hair, smart, confident—maybe there’s some unspoken pining we don’t know about.”

Aaron’s lips pressed into a firm line as he reached for a file, “Let’s keep the speculation to yourselves. We have enough on our plates without playing matchmaker.” His tone was calm but carried enough weight to signal the end of the conversation.

He didn’t let his composure falter, but inwardly, he found himself caught in a tug-of-war between amusement and annoyance. You were undeniably stunning, and he couldn’t blame his team for noticing, but their casual banter skirted dangerously close to the truth.

Later that afternoon, the sun streamed through the tall windows of the BAU bullpen, casting golden streaks across the room as you entered. Your heels echoed confidently against the polished floor, their rhythmic click commanding attention as you moved with purpose. A fitted pencil skirt emphasized the natural sway of your hips, and your blazer was tailored perfectly, hinting at the strength and grace beneath. Loose curls framed your face, falling just so, and your makeup—subtle but flawless—added to the aura of a woman who meant business.

Conversations quieted as you passed by the desks. Agents glanced up from their work, some stealing longer looks than they should have, while others leaned toward their neighbors to murmur something under their breath. You didn’t acknowledge the attention. You were used to it. Your focus remained locked ahead as you carried the neatly bound folder in your hands, its weight a mere fraction of the responsibility you carried daily.

You reached the door to Aaron Hotchner’s office just as it opened. He stepped out, his posture as straight and commanding as ever, but his sharp eyes softened for the briefest moment when they landed on you. The shift was imperceptible to anyone else, but you caught it—it was the kind of look he reserved only for you.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted evenly, his voice steady but low enough that it felt personal.

“Agent Hotchner,” you replied with a nod, the professionalism in your tone betrayed by the faint twitch of a smile at the corner of your lips.

Behind you, Morgan's voice rose in a stage whisper. “And there she is…”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your expression neutral as you extended the folder to Aaron. “I just need your signature on these budgetary adjustments. It’s time-sensitive.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed slightly as he accepted the folder, his long fingers brushing against yours briefly. “Of course,” he said, already flipping it open to skim through the pages. “Give me a moment.”

As he turned and walked back into his office, you followed without hesitation, pushing the door closed behind you. The muted sound of the latch clicking shut seemed to signal a shift in the atmosphere. The second the door was closed, your composed expression melted into something softer, teasing.

“I heard Morgan,” you said in a low voice, a mischievous glint dancing in your eyes. You set a hand on your hip, leaning slightly as you watched him work.

Aaron’s lips curved into a subtle smirk as he scribbled his signature onto the documents. “They talk about you often,” he replied, not looking up right away. “Morgan more than most.”

You tilted your head, your brow arching playfully. “Jealous?”

Finally, he looked up, setting the pen down and stepping closer. “Observant,” he corrected, his tone dry but his gaze warm. He handed the folder back to you, and as his fingers brushed yours again, the slightest spark of electricity passed between you. “You look stunning today, by the way.”

“Today?” you teased, your voice dropping slightly as you tilted your chin. “What about yesterday?”

Aaron’s smirk deepened, the rare expression enough to make your stomach flip. “Every day,” he replied smoothly, his voice dipping into that low, velvety tone that sent a thrill through you. He stepped just close enough that you caught the faint scent of his cologne—subtle and clean, just like him.

For a moment, the space between you felt charged, but you straightened, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. “Careful, Agent Hotchner,” you said, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Someone might notice.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rare but rich. “Let them speculate.”

The corner of your mouth twitched in amusement, but you turned on your heel, your exit as purposeful as your arrival. Behind you, Aaron watched, his expression softening again as the door clicked shut. The office suddenly felt emptier without you in it, and the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips.

Moments after, when you stepped out of Aaron’s office, the door closing softly behind you, you nearly collided with David Rossi. The veteran profiler stepped back gracefully, offering you a warm smile as his eyes flicked to the folder in your hands.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he greeted smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “You’re lucky Hotch doesn’t have a ‘No Stunning Women’ policy in his office. Makes the rest of us forget what we’re working on.”

You gave a polite laugh, your smile measured but warm. “Always a pleasure, Agent Rossi. Don’t let me distract you too much.” With a nod, you stepped past him and continued down the hall, your heels clicking confidently on the polished floor.

Rossi watched you leave, shaking his head slightly before stepping into Hotch’s office, and shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t tell me your office doubled as a runway, Aaron,” Rossi quipped as he took a seat across from Hotch’s desk, still grinning.

Hotch didn’t look up from the report in front of him. “Rossi.”

“I’m just saying,” Rossi continued, leaning back in his chair. “Agent Y/L/N is quite the… presence. Can’t imagine you get much work done when she’s around.”

Hotch finally glanced up, his sharp eyes locking on Rossi with a calm but pointed look. “She’s one of the most competent agents in this building.”

Rossi raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin still on his face. “No offense, Aaron. I’m just appreciating fine talent when I see it. Professionally, of course.”

Hotch’s expression didn’t shift as he returned to his paperwork. “Make sure it stays professional, Dave.”

Rossi chuckled, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. “Noted. I’ll leave you to your work, but for the record… you’ve got good taste.”

Hotch’s eyes flicked up for a brief moment, narrowing slightly as Rossi turned to leave. Once the door closed behind him, Aaron exhaled, his jaw relaxing as the corners of his mouth twitched faintly. You had that effect on people. Rossi wasn’t wrong about that, but Aaron wasn’t about to let anyone reduce you to just that. Not on his watch.

It wasn’t much later in the week when the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled the dimly lit bar as the BAU team finally unwound after wrapping a grueling case. At their usual table near the back, JJ, Penelope, and Emily leaned close together, conspiring with mischievous smiles. Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, his beer in hand, as he glanced across the room toward you.

You were with your own team, sitting at the far end of the bar. The laughter coming from your group was infectious, and more than a few heads in the bar had turned to admire the sharp, confident woman at the center of it all. You were a vision, dressed in a fitted, dark emerald blouse that complemented your glowing skin, your hair falling perfectly into place despite the long week.

Emily nudged Derek, her grin widening. “Now’s your chance, Morgan. She’s right there, and she’s smiling. That’s basically an invitation.”

Penelope nodded eagerly, swirling her cocktail. “Seriously, Derek. You’re Mr. Smooth—to make one of your famous sweet moves. She’s gorgeous, brilliant, and, let’s face it, probably way out of your league, but you’ve got charm. Use it!”

JJ smirked, sipping her drink. “They’re not wrong. She’s definitely the type to keep you on your toes.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment. “You ladies make a good point. Pretty boy over here has been staring so hard, I think he forgot how to blink.”

Reid’s head snapped up, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I haven’t been staring—I was observing!”

Penelope laughed, reaching out to pat his arm. “Sure, sweetie. Keep telling yourself that.”

Meanwhile, Aaron Hotchner sat quietly at the edge of the table, nursing his drink and doing his best to keep his expression neutral. He caught Rossi’s amused glance and ignored it, his attention drifting toward you. Across the room, your eyes flicked to his, and in that instant, the noise of the bar seemed to fade. Your lips curved into a soft, knowing smile, and Hotch’s lips twitched in response, his gaze steady but warm.

“Alright,” Derek announced, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Time to show you all how it’s done.”

As he sauntered toward you, the rest of the team watched with poorly concealed anticipation. Hotch leaned back slightly, a faint smirk playing at his lips as he took another sip of his drink, clearly amused.

At the bar, Derek slid into the seat beside you, his trademark charm on full display. “Well, well, Agent Y/L/N,” he began, flashing you a dazzling smile. “A woman like you at a place like this—it’s like a shooting star landing in a parking lot. Rare. Unexpected. Stunning.”

You turned toward him, your smile warm but professional. “Agent Morgan,” you greeted. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I’m just wondering if I can buy you a drink. You look like someone who deserves only the finest.”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “That’s kind of you, but I’m good for now. Thank you, though.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You sure? A woman like you turning down a Morgan Original? That doesn’t happen often.”

You smiled, leaning in slightly, your voice light but firm. “I’m flattered, Derek, really. But no, thank you.”

Derek blinked, clearly surprised but respectful, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Can’t blame a guy for trying. You have a good night, Agent Y/L/N.”

As he returned to the table, Rossi leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “I think I know why she turned you down.”

Derek arched a brow. “Oh, yeah? Enlighten us, wise old man.”

Rossi swirled his drink lazily. “She’s already seeing someone.”

That caught the team’s attention. JJ frowned thoughtfully. “She doesn’t wear a ring.”

Emily shrugged. “Doesn’t mean anything. Rossi’s probably right—someone like her? Definitely taken.”

Penelope gasped. “She’s got to be dating some rich CEO type. Like a Christian Grey situation—minus the creepy stuff. You know, private jets, expensive suits, maybe even his own island.”

Reid tilted his head. “Statistically, high-powered women often prefer partners who are equally accomplished, so it’s not unreasonable to assume…”

Hotch, listening quietly, couldn’t help but chuckle softly under his breath. It was rare for him to indulge in such amusement, but their wild guesses about your personal life were too far from the truth to resist.

“Something funny, Hotch?” Derek asked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Hotch met his gaze evenly, his lips twitching. “Just enjoying the show, Morgan.”

From across the room, you glanced at him again, your eyes meeting his with a spark of shared amusement. You knew, just as he did that the truth was far more satisfying than any of their guesses.

That night, the familiar warmth of your shared apartment enveloped you as you stepped out of the bathroom, your hair still damp from the shower. The soft glow of the bedside lamp lit the room in hues of gold, casting a gentle light over Aaron as he stood at the dresser, folding his tie with precision. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms, and his expression was calm, though you could tell from the faint tension in his jaw that something was on his mind.

There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved—calm, methodical, and yet there was an intimacy in the gesture that always left your heart fluttering.

You crossed the room, barefoot, wearing one of his old FBI academy T-shirts that hung just above your thighs. It was soft and familiar, smelling faintly of him, and you loved how it made you feel wrapped in his presence.

As you climbed into bed, you leaned back against the headboard, watching him with a small smile. “You’re quiet tonight,” you teased, running a hand through your damp hair. “That’s usually my thing.”

Aaron glanced at you, his lips quirking slightly before he shook his head and continued folding. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighed, placing the tie in the drawer before turning to face you, his arms crossing over his chest. “My team.”

You raised a brow, leaning forward slightly. “Oh? What did the BAU do this time?”

Aaron smirked faintly, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his watch. “It’s not what they’ve done. It’s what they keep saying.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity piqued. “Do tell.”

He exhaled, his voice even but carrying a hint of frustration. “They don’t stop talking about you. Derek, Emily, Penelope… even Reid, apparently. It’s constant.” He turned to look at you, his dark eyes warm but serious. “I’ve been patient. I’ve let it slide because they don’t know. But I think I’ve hit my limit.”

A slow smile spread across your face as you scooted closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’re jealous,” you teased, your voice light and laced with amusement. “Aaron Hotchner, stoic leader of the BAU, is jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he replied firmly, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed him. “I just don’t appreciate them… ogling you.”

You chuckled softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin against his shoulder. “You know I think it’s kind of hot when you’re jealous, right?”

He turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression softening. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you said with a grin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you care so much. But you don’t have to worry, Aaron. I’m yours. Completely.”

He turned fully now, his hands coming up to rest on your knees as he looked at you with a rare softness in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I appreciate hearing that.”

You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Good. Because it’s true.”

He kissed you back gently, one hand sliding up to cradle your cheek. When you pulled away, you saw the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Aaron lingered close for a moment, his thumb brushing your cheek in a rare display of vulnerability before he exhaled softly and pulled back. Standing, he moved toward the dresser with the same calm, deliberate manner that always captivated you.

His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, working them loose one by one. The sound of each button sliding free seemed amplified in the quiet of your shared space. You couldn’t help but admire the way the soft light played over his features—his strong jaw, the tension in his shoulders, and the faint lines around his eyes that only made him more striking.

Aaron shrugged off his shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his chest and the scar along his side that you knew he sometimes still tried to hide. He folded the shirt with the same precision as his tie, setting it neatly aside before slipping out of his slacks and into the lounge pants he favored at night.

“Don’t stop on my account,” you teased, your voice warm and playful as your eyes lingered on him.

He glanced back at you with a small, knowing smile. “Enjoying the show?”

You grinned. “Always.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his smirk growing as he crossed the room and slid into bed beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the familiar warmth of his body radiated toward you as he leaned back against the pillows, one arm sliding around your waist to pull you close.

“You really don’t have to worry about what your team says,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest. “I only have eyes for you.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, gently tilting your face toward his. “You’re sure about that?” he asked softly, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes betrayed the question’s seriousness.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one who gets this version of me. The rest of them don’t even come close.”

Aaron deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that still sent your heart racing. His hand slid down to your hip, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the world outside your shared room ceased to exist.

The soft rustle of sheets and the low hum of your shared laughter filled the space as your words became unspoken reassurances, translated into the way he touched you, the way he held you, the way he kissed you as though you were his lifeline.

In the darkness, as the lamp flicked off and the night stretched on, you made it perfectly clear—he was yours, and you were his, completely. Always.

The annual Bureau holiday party arrived soon after and was in full swing, the large event hall buzzing with laughter and conversation as agents and staff mingled under the soft glow of festive string lights. Tables lined with food and drinks flanked the room, and a DJ played a mix of holiday classics and upbeat pop songs. The BAU team had claimed a table near the center, already deep into their drinks and holiday banter.

Derek leaned back in his chair, scanning the room with an easy grin. “Alright, I’m calling it now. This year’s party MVP? Gotta be me. I’ve got the charm, the moves, and the mistletoe strategy ready to go.”

Emily rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. “Your confidence is astounding. Let’s see how it plays out when someone turns you down again.”

Penelope chuckled, adjusting the festive reindeer antlers perched on her head. “Maybe don’t aim for anyone who’s already out of your league, like a certain Agent Y/L/N.”

“They’re never letting that one down,” Reid laughed. 

Derek smirked. “She’s not here yet, but hey, holiday parties are all about surprises. Maybe she’ll get a look and change her mind?”

JJ raised a brow. “Speaking of surprises… does anyone else feel like Hotch is acting weird lately? He’s been way too quiet during our usual teasing.” Will was at her side, with an arm wrapped over her shoulders. 

Rossi, swirling his glass of whiskey, gave a knowing smirk but said nothing.

The conversation halted abruptly as the door to the hall opened, and heads turned to see Aaron Hotchner entering with you at his side.

The two of you stepped into the room, hand in hand, your fingers loosely intertwined as Aaron scanned the crowd with his usual composed demeanor. You looked radiant in a fitted emerald dress, its sleek design effortlessly elegant, while Aaron’s sharp black suit was understated yet commanding.

The BAU table fell silent, their jaws collectively dropping.

“Is that…?” Penelope started, blinking rapidly.

“Hotch,” JJ finished, her voice barely above a whisper. Will let out a breathy laugh. 

“And Agent Y/L/N,” Emily added, looking between the two of you as if she’d seen a ghost.

Morgan leaned forward, his grin faltering. “No way.”

Hotch’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as he caught their stunned expressions. He led you toward the table with a calm confidence, his hand still firmly in yours.

“Evening, everyone,” he greeted, his tone as steady as ever.

You smiled warmly, giving a little wave with your free hand. “Hi, guys. Hope we’re not late.”

The team exchanged glances, still struggling to process what they were seeing.

Derek was the first to recover, though his grin was more sheepish than his usual swagger. “Well, damn. Hotch, you really know how to keep a secret.”

Hotch arched a brow, his hand resting protectively on your back as he pulled out a chair for you. “It’s never been a secret. Some things are worth keeping private.”

Emily leaned closer to Penelope, muttering, “Okay, I officially feel bad for every single comment I’ve ever made about her in front of him.”

Penelope nodded vigorously. “Same. Oh my gosh, same.”

JJ shook her head, laughing softly. “And Derek, all the flirting?”

Morgan held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t know! But I’ll admit when I’m beat. Respect, Hotch. You’re a lucky man.”

Hotch’s expression softened slightly as he glanced at you. “I know.”

Rossi, still sipping his drink, chuckled. “For the record, I knew when to quit. The first time I made a comment about her, the look Hotch gave me said everything I needed to know.”

You raised a brow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh? And what look was that?”

Rossi smirked. “The one that says, ‘Say one more word, and you’re not making it to retirement.’”

“Back into retirement,” Hotch corrected with an amused look. The table erupted into laughter.

Emily leaned forward, her curiosity winning out. “Alright, spill. How long has this been going on?”

You exchanged a glance with Aaron, his hand still resting lightly on your back.

“A little over a year,” you admitted, and Hotch nodded. 

“A year?” Penelope gasped. “And you managed to keep it quiet this long? I’m impressed.”

Hotch’s gaze swept over his team, his voice calm but with a subtle warmth. “We wanted to keep things professional. But we both agreed it was time.” A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes as he added, “Especially before one of you asked her out on a date next.”

The team erupted into laughter, though Derek groaned, throwing his head back. “Aw, come on, Hotch! You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”

Emily smirked, leaning back in her chair. “You really did shoot your shot, Morgan. Respect for the boldness, but hindsight? Not your best moment.”

Penelope covered her mouth with her hand, barely containing her giggles. “I’m never going to stop picturing Hotch sitting back in his office, watching that go down and just... waiting.”

JJ joined in, shaking her head with a grin. “Honestly, Derek, if looks could kill…”

Derek held up his hands in surrender, chuckling despite himself. “Alright, alright! I didn’t know, okay? And for the record, I was nothing but a gentleman.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand as you smiled at him. “You were, Derek. I thought it was sweet.”

“Sweet?” Hotch interjected, his tone laced with playful sarcasm as he glanced at you. “I’d call it… bold.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow, your smile widening. “Aaron.”

His lips twitched into a faint smirk as he looked back at the table. “But in all seriousness, I can’t blame anyone for noticing how incredible she is. I just happen to be the lucky one.”

The table quieted for a moment, the sincerity in his tone catching everyone off guard. Emily was the first to break the silence, raising her glass with a grin. “Well, here’s to the two of you. A BAU power couple if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Cheers to that,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes sparkling.

As the team raised their glasses once more, you glanced at Aaron, your fingers brushing his under the table. His quiet smile and the gentle squeeze of your hand told you everything you needed to know. You were his, and he was yours, and no amount of teasing or surprise from his team could change that.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[harmonysanreads]

hi! i love the way you write aventurine, could you give me some tips on writing for him bc im struggling her to grasp his character :(

if you don’t have the time then that’s alright!

Hello, nonnie. Thank you so much :') Since you didn't mention whether this was in the Yandere context or not, I'll list some general tips. I hope you find these helpful!

— FOR BASIC CHARACTERIZATION

One of the most important aspects of Aventurine is that he's insanely smart, but they always sign it off with luck at the other side of the equation. This is intentional of course and whether or not luck really is the ultimate deciding factor isn't really the question we should be pondering about for a video game. Everything Aventurine does is through careful strategizing, scheming and calculating. What you need to remember is that ‘luck’ is more like a protective layer on top of it all. When deciding upon a plot, try your best to keep Aventurine's intelligence in mind. Then you can seal it off by using ‘luck’ in classic Aventurine style, or use dramatic irony with this point.

I think, for Aventurine, having a reader who surprises him is very convenient. It doesn't need to be a head-on challenge, sometimes the strongest impressions are made through silence and passivity. Remember, Aventurine is an incredibly observant character. For example : when he offers the Trailblazer ten thousand Credits after their first encounter, if you refuse politely, he becomes extremely pleased, as opposed to his somewhat miffed reaction if you pick the other option.

As you know, he's often partial to extremes. His ‘all or nothing’ motto can be useful to stir inner conflict.

Body language is very important for building his character. Instead of writing a whole paragraph about how beneath his bravado, he's always scared of losing, they conveyed much more through revealing the fact that he hides his left hand behind his back during all daring gambles. Aventurine isn't the type to be upfront about emotions that can make him vulnerable — that's detrimental to survival. So I think you can reveal those emotions through body language.

He's a very... unconventional gambler. His tendency to pose things as gambles and bets is more like a shield than anything. In any case, it makes for a great tool in adding drama.

— FOR DIALOGUE

Aventurine is a pretty complex character so I often forget certain things if I don't stay in practice, listening to his voicelines really helps me get a quick refresh in those cases. There's this channel on YouTube that compiles the characters' scenes individually, it's very helpful.

I think we all can agree one of Aventurine's greatest strengths is how he weaponizes words against others. There's more to this though. Be mindful to the upward and downward inflections in his sentences, the pauses between phrases and which words he's putting emphasis on.

He's also an interesting mix of straight-forward and roundabout. He says he prefers people to be direct and he often is direct himself. But with his ‘insults’ in particular, he's very roundabout. By the time you realize what he just said, it's already too late to shoot a comeback and he has you exactly where he wants.

— MISC. TIPS

Keep his backstory in mind and be respectful to it, but don't let it stop you from experimenting.

He has religious trauma, survivor's guilt, trust and commitment issues, as well as a complicated attachment style. Do you research on how these things affect people in relationships.

Aventurine's arc hasn't ended, which is why many things about him aren't definite. Consider how you might use it to your advantage.

[spicybutterfly]

Please Don't Eat Me!

What do you do when your longtime boyfriend turns into a werewolf right in front of you? Take off running of course!

❥ Pairing: werewolf!Jungkook x girlfriend!Reader ❥ Genre: fluff, angst, smut ❥ AUs: werewolf!au, college!au, established relationship!au ❥ Rating: M (18+)  ❥ Word Count: 12.3k  ❥ Warning/Tags: heavy angst, explicit language, explicit smut (way more than I intended), bratty reader, soft dom Jungkook, whiny Jungkook, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), (female receiving), fingering, missionary, riding, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation  ❥ A/N: This was supposed to be posted on Halloween…oops. ;)

*Disclaimer all characters and events portrayed in my works are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.*

Copyright © 2024 Spicybutterfly

All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for reading!♡ 

The unexpected shrill chiming of your doorbell made you jump where you stood. Startled, you dropped the tube of a pretty pink lip gloss you’d just finished applying. It hit the tile floor beneath you with a firm smack before rolling away underneath the counter. 

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, bending down as far as you could to feel the floor for your lipgloss tube. Your black, skin-tight shorts didn’t allow for much movement. Neither did your long-sleeve, baby-blue top. 

“A-ha!” You cheered victoriously as your fingers grazed the plastic tube. Thankfully the cap was already twisted closed, so there wasn’t a sticky mess everywhere. Swiftly, you grabbed the lipgloss. 

Just as you were standing back up into your previous position you felt two large hands work their way into the waistband of your shorts pulling you flush against a solid, muscled chest. You shrieked, jumping again, this time in excitement. Instantly, you recognized that firm chest anywhere.

You watched through the mirror as Jungkook began to stamp feather-light kisses along the side of your neck, nosing at your skin in between. Goosebumps bloomed all over your body from the ticklish gesture. He finished off his task with a big wet kiss on the apple of your cheek. 

No one would expect such soft gestures from your boyish boyfriend. Standing at nearly six feet tall, routinely dressed in all black, with a sleeve of tattoos and both ears adorned in piercings; Jungkook was the epitome of hardcore. That is on the outside at least.

No one was a bigger softie than your boyfriend. Your favorite nickname for him was ‘Koo’ for a reason. He was your big sensitive baby. 

You loved how he was never ashamed to show how much he loved you. He wasn’t the type to shy away from affection no matter where you were or who was around. There was no such thing as personal space when you were with Jungkook. 

“Koo,” you whined, doing your best to not mess up your makeup as you wiped away the wetness on your cheek. 

A mock gasp left your boyfriend's lips. He frowned, pulling his hands from your shorts to wrap his arms around your middle. “I thought you loved my kisses.” 

After putting down the tissue in your hands, you turned to face him. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pecked away the pout on his lips. “I do love your kisses,” you grinned at his dissatisfied face. “Just not when they’re gross and wet.” 

His big doe eyes stared at you with a gaze so intense it had your body radiating with warmth. You remember when you first started dating you could barely even look at him. But not anymore. Gone were the days when you shied away from him, too timid and inexperienced to return his gaze. Instead, you peered right back at him, hoping he could feel the same love and yearning you had for him as he did you. 

“Hey,” he breathed, his big brown eyes drinking you in. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

It has been a few days since the last time you’ve seen your boyfriend. To many that would seem like nothing, but to you, it felt like an eternity.

 Since you two had started dating, being away from each other was an uncommon occurrence. 

You two had met through extraordinary circumstances. To make a long story short, he hit you in the face with a volleyball during gym class. You’d sustained a nasty nosebleed as a result. 

He was nearly in tears as he babbled out a flurry of apologies to you, but all you could focus on was how his muscles flexed underneath his gym shirt. You’d promised to forgive him if he’d carry you to the nurse’s office, and take you out for bubble tea after school. You’ve been inseparable since. 

With your nails, you scratched lightly at the nape of his neck - his favorite spot. Jungkook hummed in response, relishing in the feeling. You felt his arms unravel from around your middle, his hands making their way towards your hips. Effortlessly he lifted you from the ground, placing you on the bathroom counter behind you. You yelped as your skin made contact with the cold granite. Jungkook didn’t even give you a second to react before he fit his body between your legs, leaning down and slotting his lips together with yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, as you let yourself sink into the feeling. 

Before Jungkook, kissing was always a subpar experience for you. You wouldn’t say you hated it, but it was certainly not your favorite. You don’t miss the icky feeling of having a wet tongue unexpectedly shoved down your throat, your breasts roughly fondled (you’ve always had sensitive nipples), or your lips bitten to the point where blood was drawn. Like during a game of Spin the Bottle in seventh grade when your neighbor, Tony bit your bottom lip so hard it was bruised for the next two weeks. No one wanted to sit next to you at lunch. Damn you, Tony.

The buildup that came from kissing Jungkook was your favorite. There was just something so intimate about the way he always took his time with you. Like a dessert that needed to be savored because you just couldn’t get enough of it. 

Today though was different. Today he was fervent. 

Your hand traveled from his neck to his hair, your fingers gently tugging at the dark brown locks. Jungkook moaned into the kiss, pulling you closer so that your fronts were pressed together. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you pulled him in closer until you could feel the thickness of his bulge against your core. Your slick panties stuck uncomfortably to your sensitive skin. 

Your mouth opened in a sigh at the feeling of his thick bulge nestled against your heat. Jungkook used this opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips. You welcomed him instantly as the wet muscle caressed your own, begging for any sort of attention. Playing along with him, they embraced each other, dancing together in a routine that was all too familiar to the both of you. 

Pulling away with a gasp, you gulped down a few deep breaths of air. Gently you pushed your needy boyfriend away by his chest as he tried to chase your lips. His eyes were focused but somehow also dazed. As if in a trance, he attached his lips to your sweet spot between your ear and shoulder. 

“Koo,” you whined, your hands gripping the front of his button-down shirt. The cotton fabric bunched in your palms. You jerked as he began to mouth at the smooth skin. Your breath quickened as his teeth raked over the sensitive area. God how you wanted him to just pull his dick out and have his way with you right here. Unfortunately though, you already made a commitment to be somewhere and you’d be damned if the world didn't get to see how good you looked in this costume. 

“Baby we can't,” you gasped. “We’re already late.” You doubt Jungkook heard a single word you said. Instead, he took the time to languidly suck your skin into his mouth. With your eyes rolling back, your mouth gaped open around a silent moan. The thumping between your legs was too insistent to ignore. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to ease some of the pressure. 

After a minute Jungkook pulled away, finally satisfied with his work. His lips were slightly swollen from his ministrations. Out of breath, you slumped against the mirror behind you with a thump. The new bruise forming on your neck was tender in the best way. 

“There,” he whispered breathlessly. “Now we’re ready to leave.”

──•◦❥•◦──

Why the hell hadn’t you worn a jacket? Or even a cardigan at least. The thin material of your top did nothing to shield you from the nippy October weather. You cursed yourself for not grabbing something to put on your arms. 

 After being dropped off by your Uber, you and Jungkook decided to wait outside for your friends to arrive. They were supposed to only be a few minutes behind you, but obviously, that wasn’t the case because you’d been standing out in the cold for nearly fifteen minutes. God only knows what the hell they were getting into.

Gripping Jungkook's arm, you shivered as another gush of wind rushed through. Your boyfriend leaned down to kiss the top of your forehead. “Cold?”

You nodded, nestling up into his warm body. He gladly accepted you, wrapping his arms around your body. Instantly, you melted into his warmth. “Freezing,” you corrected, the chattering of your teeth subsiding. “Baby, let's just wait for them inside. Who knows how long it’s gonna take for them to get here.”

“Hobi just texted, he said they’re about two minutes away.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I guess I’ll just suffer.” 

Jungkook’s body shook as he laughed above you. “It’s not so bad. At least you’ve got your own personal space heater.” You smiled, leaning your head down to rest against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat eased your nerves. Honestly, if you were sitting down you could probably fall asleep, which was a cherished rarity these days. After taking a gap year, you forgot about how taxing the school workload could be. A healthy work, home, and school life balance was nonexistent to you.

Frowning, something dawned on you. You peered up at Jungkook. He stood unaffected to the cold, watching as his fellow peers stumbled out of their cars towards the house. You flinched at the presence of another chilly breeze. Jungkook didn’t move an inch.  

“How are you not cold?”

 Looking down at his phone, Jungkook typed something out before pocketing the device. He shrugged. “I’m wearing pants.” 

“But you’re wearing short sleeves.” Jungkook watched as an orange maple tree leaf fell gracefully before you. It joined a pile of fallen leaves undisturbed on the ground. “I’m also wearing socks.” 

You sputtered. “Wha- Jungkook, that doesn't even make any sen-.” Just then a loud beep of a car horn interrupted you. You let out a shriek as you jumped, snapping your head towards the obnoxious sound. You were ready to flip them off before you saw the driver behind the wheel. 

Your annoyance melted away at the sight of  Hoseok’s impish grin. In the passenger’s seat was Lila, your best friend, and Hoseok’s girlfriends. She had her arm sticking out of the window, beaming as she waved at you. As soon as they parked you both made your way towards them.

“Hii,” Lila squealed, trotting towards you. With your arms wide open, you captured her in a hug, both of you squeezing tight. 

“What took you so long”, you pouted, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I was dying out here.” 

“I’m sorry,” she winced, pulling down her purple mini-dress. “I swear we were on the way, but then Hobi lost the ascot for his costume so we had to improvise. Speaking of,” she smiled as she did a 360 spin. She stopped with one hand on her hip and the other flinging a chunk of orange hair over her shoulder. 

“What do you think? Do I look like Daphne?”

 Your best friend was already gorgeous, but she looked stunning in her getup. Her usual long jet-black hair was now a muted orange. You assumed it to be a wig because it wasn’t that color when you two were on Facetime a couple of hours ago. There was a purple headband tucked neatly at the top of her head. The mini dress she was sporting did wonders for her modelesque physique. You always told her she could be a Victoria Secret’s angel. 

“You look so hot!” 

Smiling, she struck a pose, pointing the toe of her purple platform heel. “Thank you! You don’t look too bad yourself Officer Judy Hoops,” she smirked. 

You waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, this old thing?” Turning around, you wiggled your hips from side to side, making the cute little bunny tail shake behind you. “Found it in my closet.”

“Those too?” Smiling, she bit her bottom lip pointing towards Jungkook. He stood a few feet away conversing with Hobi. You assumed she was talking about the fox ears perched on his head. His costume was simple yet so effective. Who knew a green button-down shirt and a pair of khaki pants would make you want to drop your panties at any moment? You didn’t have a furry kink (that you were aware of) but damn he was the hottest Nick Wilde you’d ever seen.

“We borrowed those from my mom.”

 Laughing, your friend shook her head. “How the hell did you get them to wear those? It took until today for Hobi to agree to Fred.” She pouted, “Your boyfriend is better than mine.” 

You would never say this out loud but you agree. Not that you have anything against Hobi. He was one of your closest friends and you loved him dearly but your boyfriend was just better (this was completely unbiased of course).  

You rubbed your hands up and down your chilled arms. “It took a lot of convincing for him to dress up with me,” you lied through your teeth.

“Oh please,” your friend waved a dismissive hand. You have that boy wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything you asked.”

“Good,” you smirked. “That’s how I like 'em.” You were only joking though. The whole town knew you were just as whipped for Jungkook as he was for you.

You shivered at the feeling of a swift passing breeze. “Please let’s go inside, I'm freezing.” 

“Agreed,” she asserted. “Plus I can’t wait to see what their kitchen looks like. I heard they have marble countertops!” With your eyebrows raised you nodded, unable to contain the corners of your mouth curving upwards. You didn’t really care about the kitchen, you just needed to get out of this cold and into some heat.

You both made your way over to where the boys were standing. Lila greeted her boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek. Her pink lipgloss left a shiny stain on his skin. He smiled down at her, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“Hobi, why don’t you love me as much as Jungkook loves _____,” she pouted.  His eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. 

“Huh?!”

You slipped yourself underneath your boyfriend’s arms, instantly engulfed once again by his warmth. “Ready,” he asked, his warm breath tickling the apple of your cheek. 

You hummed, “If we’re out here any longer I think my nipples are gonna turn into ice cubes.” 

Jungkook smirked. “We can’t have that now can we?”  His thumb traced soft circles onto the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. Languidly, you shook your head, peeking up at him. “Maybe you could find a way to warm them up?” 

You blamed your horniness on Jungkook, he just had that effect on you.

He licked his lip. “I’m sure I could find a way.”

“Alright people,” Hobi called, breaking you out of your little moment. “ Let’s get fucked up!!” 

──•◦❥•◦──

“Not so fast, baby.” Your boyfriend gently pried the purple-tinted shot glass away from your eager lips.

“You're going to make yourself sick,” he chided, bringing a delicate thumb to wipe away the ticklish trail of vodka dribbling down the side of your chin. 

You swallowed down the rest of the clear liquid, accepting the familiar burn that followed. Immediately your face scrunched up in distaste. Though vodka was your drink of choice you’d never get used to that burning taste. 

Jungkook placed the glass on a nearby table. He chuckled at your grimace, leaning down to brush a kiss on the tip of your nose. “That’s what you get,” he grinned. “Where’d you even get that from?”

“Lila,” you sang, licking away any remnants of alcohol on your lips. 

“Figures.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you lightly pushed at his shoulder. “Whatever,” you muttered, swinging your body to the beat of the song. The floors beneath you vibrated with how hard the bass blared through the speakers. The playlist they had going wasn’t really your cup of tea. It reminded you of something they’d play in at a Renaissance Fair. You hadn’t recognized a single song in the couple hours you’d been here. But that didn’t bother you,  you were raised in a household that could get down to anything. 

Swaying your hips from side to side, you gripped the tie around your boyfriend’s neck. Your vision was slightly fuzzy around the edges, no doubt from the several shots and one full drink you’d inhaled once you’d arrived.

“Dance with me?” You purred before taking a step towards your boyfriend. You stumbled, seemingly tripping over an imaginary object, nearly falling face-first to the ground.

“Woah,” Jungkook grasped your hips, steadying your involuntarily swaying body. Your fingers grasped his arms tightly. In your chest, your heart thumped as they made contact with the veins in his arm. God, he was so hot. 

“I think that’s enough for you for tonight.” 

Your eyes widened, slightly glassy. “But m’ not even drunk!” 

He hummed unconvinced. “Yeah, but it won’t take you long to get there.” Jungkook pulled his phone from his pocket, checking the notification on the screen. “We have to leave soon anyway. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

A frown adorned your features before your tipsy mind could even think of stopping it. “You do?” This was news to you. “Where are you going?”

He avoided your eyes, opting to stare at the bunny ears perched on top of your head. He shrugged. “Somewhere. It’s no biggie.”

“Can I come too?” You hated how needy you sounded. You weren’t a clingy girlfriend at all. If anything, Jungkook was the clingy one. It's just for the past few weeks you’ve barely spent any time together and whatever time you did spend as a couple you were the one to initiate it. Just like tonight. Getting him to wear matching costumes might not have taken a lot of convincing sure, but getting him to come to this party did. He really put up a fight to not come here with you, only finally agreeing when you mentioned you would come with one of your guy friends. Possessive little shit. 

Jungkook reached out a hand to caress your chin. “Not this time, baby. I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head. “No, it's fine,” you assured, fingering the blue tie resting against his chest. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes. “We can leave now if you're ready. I think I’ve had enough for tonight.” Your gaze remained downcast as you swallowed away the lump in your throat. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was frowning. 

“You sure, baby? We can stay a little longer. I know you really wanted t-.” Before he could finish you shook your head once more, pushing his hand away from your face. 

“I’m kinda tired anyway.” 

You knew you didn't believe you. He damn near knows you better than you know yourself. You just weren’t in the mood for another argument. Lately, it seems as if that’s all you two ever did. Flirt, argue, fuck, argue some more, fuck again, and then right back to flirting.

You pulled your hands away from him. “Let me just say bye to Lila.” You didn’t wait for him to respond, instead, you left him standing there in search of your friend.

 Begrudgingly, you made your way through the sea of sweaty bodies, scanning the crowd for anyone sporting a purple mini-dress. Smoke emerging from the hidden fog machine made it difficult to see clearly. The tipsy crowd surrounding you cheered, as the intro of a familiar song began to play. ‘Listen to this track bitch!’ Of course they’d play the good music when you’re about to leave. 

Your journey was halted by a tall, burly body dressed in a football uniform stepping in front of you. You jerked, taking a step back to allow space between you two. The urge to roll your eyes consumed your whole being as soon as you recognized who it was. 

Elijah stood before you, with a cold beer clasped in his right hand. The arrogant asshole didn’t even bother to put on a proper costume.

 He yelled your name, grinning widely. You didn’t have time to react before he was wrapping himself around you in a one-sided hug. You cringed at the feeling of his sweaty body pressed against yours. His left hand rested dangerously low on your lower back. You pushed him away with a hand on his chest, separating yourself from him. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you would be here!” That was a lie. He’d heard you and Lila talking about attending this party earlier today in class. He’d even expressed how he’d be coming too, even though no one asked.

“I could’ve sworn you heard me say I was coming earlier.” Your mind wasn’t sober enough to care about sparing his feelings especially since he just wouldn’t take a hint. I mean, how many times do you have to reject someone for them to understand? 

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I forgot.” You nodded, unamused. “Anyway, I’m glad to see you.” 

You couldn’t say the same.

“Like my costume?” He flexed his biceps, the muscle jumping at the action. There wasn’t a stirring in your belly like your boyfriend did it. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect. “Your football uniform doesn’t count as a costume.”

“Ehh, the ladies love it, so who cares.” What ladies was he referring to? You would never know.

 He tilted his head towards a group of people dancing, or as your grandmother would say, gyrating in the living room. “Wanna dance with me?” He shimmed from side to side, biting his bottom lip. You couldn’t decide if he was in pain or if he was trying to be sexy. You’d had enough of this conversation.

“Elijah, I have a boyfriend. You do know that, right?” 

He nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “What, your boyfriend doesn’t let you have friends?” You scuffed. What a played-out line. 

“I have to go,” you deadpanned, moving around him. “So, I’ll see you later,” you heard him call behind you.

You didn’t bother to turn around. “You won’t!”

 If you were in a bad mood before, you were certainly in an even worse one now. The audacity of him! When would he get it through his thick skull that you did not like him?! He better be thankful that you wouldn’t allow your boyfriend to beat him up. He’s been itching to do that ever since he found out about Elijah’s persistent crush on you. 

You weren’t surprised to find your bestfriend in the kitchen. The culinary student always seemed to wind up there whenever you were at some sort of event hosted at a house.

She stood at the counter, swaying he hips to the beat of the song as she made another biter-tasting drink. Because her back was facing the doorway she didn’t see you come in.

“Lila.”

“Hey,” she chirped, turning around. “You ready for an-,”. At the first sight of your facial expression she frowned, putting down the red solo cup and a bottle of Tequila. “What’s wrong?” 

“We’re leaving,” you rubbed your lips against each other. The motion was a bit dull as most of your lipgloss has either dried up or been licked away. “Apparently Jungkook  has somewhere to be.” 

Lila frowned, her eyebrows nearly touching. She tapped her phone awake. “At 2:30 in the morning?” You didn’t respond. “ _____, that’s sketchy.” 

“I know.” Your voice shook as you tried to explain. Maybe you were more drunk than you thought.

 “And he won’t even,” you took in a deep quivering breath. “He won’t even tell me where he’s going.” You blinked up at the ceiling, attempting to keep your tears at bay. “He always does this to me. Everything will be good and then out of nowhere, he gets distant. Then I don’t hear from him for days.”

 Your fingers picked at a stray hair on your sweater. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh honey,” your friend engulfed you in her arms. “How long has he been doing this?”

You pulled away, wiping away the tears you didn’t realize were now flowing from the corners of your eyes. “Since we’ve been dating.” 

Your friend gasped at your admission. “_____, it’s been three years!” 

“I know!” Bringing both hands up to cover your face you groaned aloud. Certainly, no one could hear you with how loud the music was. 

How ridiculous this whole situation must seem- crying over your boyfriend in a stranger’s kitchen dressed as a police officer bunny with Kendrick Lamar blaring over the speakers all while barely sober enough to stand. Gotta love being in your early twenties. 

“So then he needs to fucking explain himself! Or at least tell you where he’s going.” 

“I-,” Before you could finish your phone vibrated from your back pocket. Pulling it out you down at the device. You couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes at the contact name on the screen. “I should probably go.” You turned the phone around, showing your friend the screen of Jungkook calling you. 

She scuffed as you shoved your phone back into your pocket. Lila pulled you into another hug. “Please keep me updated. Don’t let him walk all over you like this. You need to stand up for yourself.” 

Oh trust, this was definitely going to be addressed and it would most likely lead to another stupid argument. 

You found Jungkook standing exactly where you left him. His jaw was clenched, both hands resting in his pockets. With the way they bulged, you could tell they were clenched into fists. What was his problem?

His eyes were fixed on you the entire time, never looking away. Jungkook exhaled before speaking. “Why do you smell just like him?”

“Huh? Like who?”

“Elijah,” he asserted.

“How do you even know what he smells like?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Is that what took you so long?” Wait was he seriously mad at you right now? “Why are you being so rude to me?” 

Jungkook didn’t respond. He stuck his hand out for you to take. “We should go. Our Uber is outside.” You didn’t spare him a single glance as you walked right past him towards the front door, him hot on your heels.

──•◦❥•◦──

Thank god this Uber had a functioning heater. You swear you were starting to feel the beginnings of hypothermia biting at your toes.  You’d never take a jacket for granted again.

The atmosphere inside of the car was awkward and stuffy. Though not because of the heater or the Uber driver’s questionable taste in podcasts. Without a doubt, he was certainly an attendee of those anti-women’s rights rallies that are always held downtown. A major downside of living in a small, religious town. He wasn’t getting rated five stars. 

Neither Jungkook nor you have spoken a word to each other since you left the party. There was nothing left for you to say to him. Jungkook remained firm on not giving you any details about his plans. No matter how much you probed for the answers he remained vague. 

So you gave him the silent treatment. 

You knew it was juvenile but you couldn't help but feel that maybe he deserved it. After all, why should you respond to anything if he can’t even answer a simple question? Maybe now he would know how it feels to be ignored. 

Beside you Jungkook sighed deeply, breaking the awkward momentary silence in the car. You heard him shifting in his seat, his knee brushed against yours as he turned his body towards you. You could feel him staring at the side of your face but you were still too pissed off to even acknowledge him.

 He placed his hand on your knee, caressing the exposed skin. “I’m sorry about the way I spoke to you earlier. I was wrong and you didn’t deserve that. I’m also sorry we had to leave early, I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby.”

Whatever. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you continued scrolling through reels on Instagram. You stopped on a video tutorial of how to wax your brows at home. You were long overdue for a maintenance day. 

“Are you seriously not going to talk to me?” Silently, you skimmed through the comments. 

From the front seat, your driver cleared his throat. You would feel bad for making him uncomfortable in his own car if it wasn’t for the bullshit, misogynistic podcast playing in the background. Just because the volume was low doesn't mean you couldn’t hear it.  

You ignored your boyfriend as he called your name. Jungkook scuffed, shaking his head. “Unfuckingbelievable,” he growled. 

Your neck nearly snapped with how fast you turned towards him. If Jungkook was a stranger, the look on his face would have scared you. His eyebrows were pulled together into something furious, and the way his lips were downturned almost appeared…painful. You’ve never seen him look so angry before. But you knew your boyfriend and you knew he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you. So your attitude remained. 

“Is there something you need to get off your chest?” 

The tension in his brows loosened. Restlessly his tongue probed the inside of his cheek, replacing the frown. The anger in his features was still present, just not as intense as before. 

Subconsciously your eyes followed the indentation. Something stirred inside you. You might be furious but you weren’t blind. He looked sexy as hell when he did that. 

“You are such a fucking child sometimes,” he hissed. Reaching up, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, snatching off the fox ears in the process. 

You frowned, scuffing. “Excuse me?” 

“You know, I am so sick of your shit!” Jungkook's voice rang out within the car. Stunned you gasped. You’ve had arguments before but Jungkook has never talked to you like that. He’s never even raised his voice at you. Where was all of this coming from?

“Throwing a fucking tantrum because I didn’t tell you where I’m going. What, do you need an alert for when I’m taking a shit now too? Would that satisfy you? Newsflash _____, I don’t need to tell you everything about my life. You’re not my fucking mother.” 

A heavy silence hung in the air.

The car halted at a red light. The tires screeched loudly at the sudden stop. The both of you jerked forward in the backseat. Instinctively you reached your hand out to prevent your face from smacking into the passenger’s seat in front of you. At the same time, Jungkook's arm shot out across your frame, halting you from moving any further. Your eyes burned with unshed tears. With your phone gripped in your hand, you gnawed at your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling or any unwanted sounds from escaping. 

A quick look through the car windows showed you were a short distance away from your house. To your right, you recognized the trail that led into a small densely packed forest. You’d taken this trial countless times before as a shortcut from your house, to the inner city, and back. Only that was in the daytime when it was bright and sunny and there were people out. Now it was ten minutes till three in the morning. You’d seen not one single person out on the streets since you made it back to the outskirts of your town. You were for damn sure there was no one in the forest either. 

At least you hoped. 

Against your better judgment, you pulled the lock back on the car door before throwing it open. 

“Um, ma’am?!” You heard your Uber driver yell as Jungkook called after you right before you slammed the car door shut. Your body was instantly overtaken by the cold again. Why the fuck didn’t you wear a jacket?! 

The sound of your shoes smacking against the pavement as you trudged across the quiet street, was booming. You approached the eerie trail with a quickness, hoping Jungkook wouldn’t follow behind you. That hope was quickly diminished however when the slamming of a door and a car speeding off came from behind you. You marched further into the thick forest, following the worn dirt trail. The dull street light at the start of the trail only offered a few meters of illumination. During the day you didn’t need to worry about how you would see as the sun was always out. Now replaced by the moon, darkness loomed over the tall trees and thick shrubbery that bordered the trail. 

 Crunching leaves filled the silence around you as Jungkook finally caught up with you. “Are you insane? That was so ridiculous?!” 

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Jungkook gripped your hand, turning your body to face him. That nasty glare was present on his face again. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You snatched your hand away, “Don’t fucking touch me!” 

You turned to complete your walk back, but you weren’t done. Your anger was back in full force and you demanded answers. Facing him fully again, you pointed an accusatory finger at him. “How dare you? How dare you fucking speak to me that way, Jungkook?! All because I asked you a question? A question that I as your girlfriend deserve an answer to.”

He chuckled bitterly, rolling his eyes. “Cut the theatrics, _____. I’m over it.” He checked the time on his phone again. “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

You scuffed, shaking your head. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you.” Was he insane? With the way he was acting, he was lucky you didn’t dump his sorry ass right there. 

His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. Bringing both hands up, he gripped his brown locks so hard you thought he would tear his hair out. 

“Why do you have to make things so difficult?” He groaned out bent over at the waist. Jungkook stood up straight again, staring you dead in the eyes. A cold chill ran down your spine. “Let’s. Go. I have somewhere to be.” 

“Where?” You were standing toe to toe with him.

“It doesn't matter, we need to go. Now.”

“No!”

“I’m serious, _____ we-.”

“Fuck you Jungkook, I’m not going!” Too focused on being stubborn, you missed the way Jungkook’s body twitched involuntarily. With his eyes closed he sucked in a deep breath. “Baby, you have to g-.” Another twitch. “No! I’m not going until you tell me.”

He called your name again. “Baby, please you need to- you have to-” 

“I’m not! Where are y-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You jumped, and your eyes widened in shock. The distant squawk of crows flying away echoed in the background. Stunned, you watched silently as Jungkook collapsed to his knees, panting. Both of his hands gripped the ground in front of him, his knuckles white with how tight he was holding on. You flinch as what sounded like bones snapping filled the chilly air. Piercing groans and gasps of pain escape Jungkook's open mouth. His body twitched and jerked in various directions. 

The feeling of your heart hammering in your chest made you feel nauseous. What the fuck was going on?!

With one final gasp of air, he stopped, and you were once more surrounded by that haunting stillness. You wrapped your arms around yourself again. You didn’t even notice the cold anymore. 

You took a cautious step towards your panting boyfriend. “Koo,” you called, your voice trembling. You took a few more crunching steps until you were right in front of him. “Baby? Are you okay?”

Slowly he lifted his head, revealing himself to you. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat. With eyes as wide as saucers, you brought both of your hands up to cover your mouth.

Long, sharp fangs replaced the canine teeth in his upper and lower jaws. His beautiful, brown boba eyes - one of your favorite parts about him- were gone, in its place were piercing deep golden eyes that were locked on you. Thick dark brown fur began penetrating through his skin, covering the rest of his blemish-free face to the rest of his body. Gone was your boyfriend as you knew him, in his place was something inhuman!

In a steady voice, a cross between human and ferocious, he whispered out  a gravely, “Run.”

You didn’t have time to think or to even scream in terror. Before your mind could even register you were fleeing down the dirt path towards your house. Your feet pounded the uneven ground beneath you. The light from the streetlight has now completely faded. The only illumination came from above you, the brilliant face of the moon exposed. Jungkook screamed out once more, a thundering shout before it ended in what sounded to you like a wolf’s howl. 

The heavy thumping of footsteps picked up from behind you. What sounded like two eerily turned into four, running at a speed that was inexplicably fast. You heard the beast growl right behind you. It was so hot on your tail that you felt like it could reach out and grab you at any moment. Just up ahead you could see the end of the trail. You could cry in relief.

Your comfort was only short-lived. Before you could take another step forward, the front of your right shoe got caught on a sizable rock. It felt like your world was moving in slow motion as you were totally knocked off balance. Reaching both arms out in front of you, you braced yourself for your inevitable fall. Your body hit the solid ground with a hard smack, your right ankle twisting painfully in the process. You were so close. You were almost free.

Only then did you scream. 

Clutching your right ankle, you gasped down deep breaths of air. Sharp pain traveled hotly throughout your body. “Fuck,” you wailed, your vision blurry with tears. The blood rushing in your ears made it hard to hear anything, the world around you almost wholly muffled. The presence of a wolf was unknown to you until you heard it huff out an exhale. The horrifying creature stood at least eight feet tall on all fours. It was covered entirely in thick burnt umber fur. Drool leaked from its opened mouth, like gooey honey oozing off of a honey dipper. Its piercing golden eyes were trained solely on you. The creature slowly made its way towards you. 

You gasped, scooting backward on your feet and hands until the pain in your ankle was unbearable. The burning in your lungs was incessant with each breath you sucked down. Before you, the wolf huffed another exhale. He was so close now you could feel its warm breath tickling your face. Its teeth were bared like it was ready to bite. Leaning its head down, his long snout nosed its way between your neck and shoulder. Pushing your head up, it sniffed harshly at your skin. You closed your eyes, just waiting for the moment it decided to attack. 

“Plea-se,” you begged, your voice cracking at the end. You heaved as your entire body trembled in fear. “Please don’t- don’t hurt me.”

The wolf leaned away from you. There seemed to be a glint of recognition in his eyes. You had to be losing your mind. 

He huffed again, sitting back on his hind legs. You wanted to scream as it released another deafening howl. Then, just like magic, it was gone as if it was never there in the first place. 

Your boyfriend sat naked in its place. A look of horror was written all over his face. He brought both hands up to cradle your face. You jumped at the sudden action. For a split second, he looked slightly wounded but then the concern was back. 

 “Baby! Are you okay?!” Gently his thumbs whipped away the tears staining your cheeks. Each of your hands wrapped around his wrists. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?!” He checked you frantically, looking for any signs of injuries. You were speechless, the only thing you could do was heave breathlessly into the cool open air. 

“Baby please,” he pleaded. “Say something, breath!” There was a steady ringing in your ears. Jungkook’s mouth was closing and opening as if he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything. Everything was silent. The corners of your vision were obscured by an approaching darkness. You blinked rapidly to try and keep yourself alert until it consumed you completely.

──•◦❥•◦──

Drowsily, your eyes blinked open. Your vision was still fuzzy around the edges as you took in your surroundings. The room was dark but familiar. It didn’t take you long to realize that you were inside your bedroom. Somehow you must have made it home. You looked down at yourself. And changed clothes? Except your bra was still on. It was uncomfortably snug on your skin. There was a reason you never slept with a bra on. With ease you unhooked the clasp, placing it on the bed beside you.

You threw the thick blankets and duvet completely off of you, body all too warm now. There was an incessant pounding in your head. Groaning, you brought your hand up to clutch at the aching spot. There was a dull ache in your right ankle.

“Baby,” a delicate voice called from the corner of your room. It was Jungkook. “Are you awake?” Suddenly, the memories of what happened came rushing back to you. 

Your boyfriend turned into a fucking werewolf right in front of you and nearly attacked you. 

With a hammering heart, you scooted backward until your back came in contact with your headboard. He approached the side of the bed you were on cautiously, sitting down gently in the open space in front of you. His big brown orbs were back but were now swimming with sadness at the sight of you drawing your knees into yourself. 

He nibbled at his bottom lip. “There’s some pain reliever and a glass of water on your nightstand.”

 A moment passed before you reached for the pill bottle and water. You didn’t take your eyes off of Jungkook the entire time. He looked disheveled. His previously neat hair was a mess like he’d been running his fingers through it constantly. His eyes were glossy and red-rimmed. You doubt he’d gotten any sleep. Gone was his Nick Wilde costume. You assumed it was destroyed during the transformation. He was now sporting a plain black tee and matching sweats. 

You didn’t realize how parched you were until you were gulping down the rest of the room-temperature water. A few dribbles of water escaped your lips, trailing down your chin. With the back of your hand, you wiped your mouth, catching your breath. Jungkook took the empty glass from you, placing it back on the nightstand. For a while, the room was still. Neither of you decided to break the silence first. To be honest, you didn’t know what to say.

“Are you afraid of me?” 

The immediate short answer was no. There wasn’t anything in this world that could make you afraid of your boyfriend. He was the absolute love of your life. You knew he would never do anything to hurt you intentionally.

You were however afraid of what he was capable of. He was a literal werewolf! If he wanted to he could tear you into pieces. What if he didn’t recognize it was you? What would have happened then? You couldn’t help those questions swimming through your mind. “I don’t know.” His head dropped down as his eyes closed. 

It was silent for another moment. “Since when?” 

Jungkook shook his head confused. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. 

You continued. “Since when don’t we tell each other everything?” You swallowed thickly, referring to earlier in the night. You couldn’t help the emotion that trembled through your voice. “Why would you keep this from me, Jungkook? For so long.” 

He looked away from you. His eyes danced around the room before he responded. “I don’t know, I just-. I wanted to keep you safe.”

You couldn’t help the fury building inside of you. “You call that keeping me safe! You almost killed me!” Using both of your arms you gestured towards your bedroom window. 

“What!” 

Jungkook shook his head frantically. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. Baby, I would never! I knew it was you. Please believe me I would never hurt.” His eyes pleaded with yours, begging for you to believe him. And you wanted to so badly, but he’d already hurt you just not physically.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” He shook his head. “I was trying to leave. I was- I was going to drop you home and then I-I was…” he trailed off looking everywhere except at you.

“You were going to shift,” you finished for him. Wordlessly he nodded. 

The room was silent again with the occasional squeak from your ceiling fan. In front of you, Jungkook sighed.

 “You know,” you started, your boyfriend looking up at you. “This whole time I thought that I did something wrong.” You scrunched a chunk of your duvet beneath your fingertips. “I just couldn't understand what was wrong. I mean you were so hot and cold with me, it was jarring.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I thought that maybe you were getting tired of me or something…maybe even seeing someone else.” Sighing, you slowly released a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding. 

It felt amazing to finally get that off your chest, to finally express how you were truly feeling, and to have him listen. 

Your gaze was trained downward. You weren’t looking at anything specifically, you just wanted to avoid his eyes - something you hadn’t done in years. 

Jungkook gasped quietly. “_____, I would never,” he pleaded, his eyes borrowing into yours. 

Rapidly you nodded your head. “I know,” you sniffled. “I just…I didn’t know what to think. You left me in the dark Jungkook.”

 Firmly, he grasped both of your hands in his. “Baby, look at me.” Your gaze remained downcast. He gently squeezed your hands in his, urging you to look at him. “Please.” When your eyes met his, your breath nearly hitched. He was looking at you with a soft longing. The pure adoration for you swimming in his eyes was undeniable. Gone was the anger and frustration. This was your Jungkook.

“I would never-,” he shook his head. “I could never. Baby, you mean everything to me. You are my entire world.” Gently with his thumbs, he wiped away your salty tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you and I’m so sorry if you ever felt I didn’t love you because that is the furthest thing from the truth. You are the love of my life; the best thing that has ever happened to me. I am so infatuated with you that I don’t know how to live without you.” 

The tears blurring your vision threatened to spill as you listened to the words of your boyfriend. “Please understand that none of this is your fault. This is all because of me. I failed to communicate with you properly and I’m sorry. _____, I’m sorry.” Jungkook stared at you, desperately waiting for you to respond with something, anything. 

You said nothing. Instead, you cradled his face in your hands, bringing his lips to meet yours. You believed him—of course you did—and hoped he could feel everything you wanted to say. 

 You pulled away with a faint smack. “Is this okay?” you whispered, desperately searching his eyes for an answer. Taking a page from your book, he remained silent, swifty reattaching his lips to yours. His usually pillowy-soft lips were slightly chapped but still felt like heaven against yours. Immediately, all the stress and worries began to wash away.

He responded eagerly to the kiss, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arms around your middle. Effortlessly, he pulled you into his firm lap. Your hands curled into his cotton shirt instinctively. 

You pulled your hands from his shirt to tangle one in his hair, the other scratching gently at the nape of his neck. Jungkook sighed against your mouth, his breath tickling your chin. His mouth moved against yours tenderly, 

For a moment, you two savored the kiss, basking in each other's warmth and presence. Content sighs and soft moans escaped the both of you filling the air around you. 

Your mind was blank and fuzzy; filled with nothing but Jungkook. The way he smelled- clean with a slight hint of cologne, how gently he was kissing you, how much he loved you, the way his body fit perfectly against your own. 

The kiss was so innocent, soft, and gentle, yet your panties grew slicker with each second that passed. Beneath you, you could feel that your boyfriend was just as affected. He had been grinding his semi against you for several minutes now, pressing your damp panties into your sensitive, eager bud. It was so delicate, you were sure he had to be doing it subconsciously. 

Slowly you pulled away, opening your eyes. As he gazed at you, the dreamy look in his eyes sent pleasant tingles throughout your body. How this boy still managed to give you butterflies after years of being together is beyond you. 

“Koo,” you whispered, finger curling around a lock of his luscious hair. You couldn’t take your eyes off of his kiss-swollen lips. Slowly you ran a thumb over his bottom lip as you bit your own. 

“Hmm?” His hands continued their journey up and down your sides. Mind still clouded with all things Jungkook, it took a moment for your brain to formulate your thoughts into a coherent sentence.

 “I want you.”

His breath hitched as his hands stopped momentarily. You could see his features darken right before you. A glint of mischievousness shone in his eyes. With an arched brow, his hands continued their journey. “Yeah? Are you sure that’s what you want, pretty?” 

You shuttered at the nickname. “Please,” you begged, all shame and self-respect now completely thrown out the window. “I want you to fuck me.”

You took his hands into yours, guiding them to your supple breasts. He wasted no time, instantly fondling the squishy mounds in his large palms. You sighed as his thumbs deliberately brushed against your hardened nipples, begging to be released from the confines of your cotton shirt.

 You purred, “I need you, baby. Don’t you want me too?” 

The look in his eyes was damn near feral. “Always,” he rasped, pinching the stiffened peaks between his thumb and pointer fingers. You gasped, your brows pinching together in pleasure. “I always want you. Fuck, I can never get enough of you.” He pressed his mouth upon yours, pulling you into a searing kiss. Teasingly, he pulled away leaving you to chase after his lips.

 “Koo,” you whined, gripping his shirt to reconnect your lips. He tsked, capturing both of your wrists into his grasp.

 “Don’t be greedy,” he tutted, leaning down to kiss away the pout on your lips. “I always give you what you need.” He let go of your wrists, and with his other hand, you felt him tug at the bottom of your t-shirt. “Take this off.” 

Without a second wasted you peeled the fabric from your body, casually tossing it somewhere beyond your line of sight. With your bare chest now exposed to the cool temperature in your bedroom, goosebumps blossomed all over your skin. 

Jungkook leaned down to nose between the valley of your breasts. You giggled as he sniffed at your skin, brushing his hair away from his face “You’re such a weirdo.” 

You felt him smile against you. “Can’t help it, literally,” he chuckled inhaling deeply. “Plus you always smell so fucking good.” You hummed, fingers raking through his hair. It must be a part of his wolfie instincts.

 Your eyes fluttered shut as he began to pepper kisses all around your breasts, always just missing where you needed him the most. Once he was satisfied with his work, Jungkook finally wrapped his lips around your awaiting nipple. Your mouth dropped open around a moan as your head lulled back. He groaned at the feeling of your hand tightening in his hair. His skilled fingers tweaked your other nipple, ensuring it received the same amount of attention.

“Fuck, Koo,” you shivered, your free hand reaching down to grip his length. He always took such good care of you, you wanted to make him feel good too. Now completely erect, it stood at its full potential, tenting his sweatpants. He was rock hard and so damn thick you couldn’t wrap your hand around him completely. Even through the material of his sweatpants, you could feel the prominent veins running along his shaft. He certainly wasn’t wearing any underwear. Your mouth watered. 

Jungkook scowled, just as if he had eaten something delicious, groaning around a mouth full of your breast. He released your nipple with a wet pop. “Feels good baby,” he rasped. 

Within the next second your back collided with the plushness of your mattress. You shrieked, hands shooting out to steady yourself. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” Jungkook smirked from above you. He then pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Slowly, your eyes raked over your boyfriend, taking a moment to fully appreciate the view before you. You never thought you had a type, but god Jungkook was everything you never knew you needed in a man. 

Tiny sporadic beads of sweat gathered along his skin. They looked like diamonds dancing in the moonlight that peeked through your curtains. His body always ran warmer and after the events of tonight, you understand why. His sleeve of tattoos decorated his skin beautifully, a far better accessory than any piece of jewelry could ever be. Concealing a moan behind a bitten lip, you watched as the muscles in his beefy arms jumped as he pulled down his sweatpants, freeing his length. Your pussy fluttered at the sight; it was just as beautiful as the rest of him. 

The first time you and Jungkook had sex you were afraid he wouldn’t fit inside of you. He was so long and thick it almost seemed unreal. Though with the proper prep, you were able to take him, and let's just say no one had ever made you cum from just penetration before.

His dick rested on his tummy, standing tall and flushed. He was so hard it almost looked painful. His mushroom tip glistened with pre-cum. You desperately wanted to swallow it all up.

 You sat up on your elbows, your own eyes clouded with lust. “May I have a taste?”  

You almost moaned aloud as Jungkook gripped his dick in his hand, giving himself two long strokes making sure to flick his wrist at the tip. You caught a glimpse of his beautiful scowl before his head dropped forward, his abs flexing in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you heard him chuckle breathly giving himself one final squeeze. He shook his head. Slowly he lifted his head, his wavy bangs falling over his eyes. Your heart lurched in your chest. He pulled you to the edge of the bed, settling in front of your open legs.

“Me first,” he smirked and you knew you were fucked. 

No one in the world could eat pussy like your boyfriend. He was the definition of an eater, always so eager to deliver the most pleasure possible. Sometimes you thought he enjoyed it more than you did. 

After delivering one successful orgasm to you with his mouth, he had you teetering on the edge of another. 

The echos of his efforts bounced off of the walls around you. He worked his fingers diligently inside of you, alternating between thrusting and scissoring them apart. The soppy sounds flowing from your cunt had you flushed all over. But you were far too close to cumming to be embarrassed. Languidly he swirled his tongue around your clit whilst both of his digits massaged your inner walls thoroughly. Your walls fluttered around his fingers, sending another gush of your arousal to coat his hand. Unshed tears began to gather along your lash line. 

“Jungkook,” you mewled wetly, eyes slamming shut as your back arched off of your bed. You licked at your lips, now dry from how hard you breathed through your open mouth. “Koo, baby I’m so close!” Jungkook moaned around you, sending a delicious stream of vibrations through your pussy. 

A steady smacking rhythm from below you caught your attention. It sounded wet and sloppy. Was he…? You gasped looking down to confirm your wicked thoughts. Through your blurry vision, you were rewarded with the sight of Jungkook fisting his veiny cock to the same rhythm he was fingering you. With each upward stroke, a trail of pre-cum dribbled from his tip onto his fingers. Oh how bad you wanted them in your mouth.

His tongue laved up slowly through your folds, the wet muscle flicking at your clit gently in the end. “So fucking good,” he muttered against you, almost to himself. Just as he reached down to fondle his balls, he sucked your clit wholly into his mouth.

Your hips canted up, pushing yourself further into the pleasure. Firmly holding you down, he croaked his fingers up, directly massaging the spongy area that had you seeing stars. Still attached to you, Jungkook groaned as your fingers tangled tighter in his hair. He pulled away from your pussy, his reddened lips and chin glistened with your arousal. “That feels good, pretty?” 

You nodded rapidly, as your breath hiccuped. “Uh-huhh~! Gonna make me come, baby.”

“Yeah?” His wrist was now snapping against you, fingers curling with precision to repeatedly stroke against your g-spot. “Make a mess for me baby. Show me how beautiful you are when you come.”

There was an incessant pressure building and building in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan as your face scrunched in pleasure. Your back bowed as Jungkook delivered one last stroke against that spot, so good that it sent you right over the edge.  Your walls fluttered around him, sucking his fingers in with a vice grip.

You came with a strangled shout, a slurred mess of what was supposed to be his name as your toes curled in the bedsheets. “Fuck! Koo-uhn!”

But he wasn’t done with you yet. His insatiable hunger couldn’t be sated until you were writhing, gasping for breath underneath him. He wanted you to be so dizzy with pleasure that you couldn’t remember your own name. He wanted to ruin you. He wanted it- no he needed it. He needed it so fucking bad. 

Somehow, he sucked at you harder, pushing your hips into the bed. Your body trembled, completely helpless to the overstimulation you were receiving. Inside, his fingers didn’t slow their pace, still plunging into your sopping cunt. His tongue, soaked with his saliva and your essence, rubbed figure eights into your aching clit. You hiccuped out moan after babbled moan, no longer able to properly articulate a single word.

 “One more pretty, give me one more. Please? Can you do that for me?” This man was trying to kill you. You were literally being eaten alive by your boyfriend, the irony. 

Like ferocious waves crashing onto a sandy beach, your orgasm wracked through you. The air was completely knocked out of your lungs. You were unable to make a single sound, as your mouth fell open. You thought you must’ve looked like a mad woman with your eyes rolled back and your back arched completely off of your bed. Though to Jungkook, you couldn't look more beautiful. With your hair fanned out around, heavy breasts jiggling as you gasped for breath, your skin glimmering from a thin sheen of sweat, the blissed-out expression on your face - you were a sight to be marveled at.

 Jungkook didn’t pull away until you were whimpering, pushing at his head, as you feebly scooted away from him. Gulping breaths of air, you slumped onto your mattress, now slightly damp with sweat. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes as you stared up in a daze at your bedroom ceiling. 

Gently, he pulled his fingers from your thumping core, slowly dragging them up through your folds in the process. He popped his fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking away your arousal coated on his digits. With a lewd smacking sound he pulled them from his mouth. He positioned his body over you, fitting himself in between your open legs. You shivered as the head of his dick nudged your pussy.

“Good girl,” he whispered, caressing your thighs down to your butt. “Was that okay? It wasn’t too much was it?” You hummed, still sated from your three succeeding orgasms. “M’ good baby,” you exhaled, your breath starting to even out. “That was amazing.” 

Jungkook smiled and your heart fluttered. “Yeah?” He squeezed a handful of your right cheek. Without warning, his hand collided with the fatty meat of your ass, a loud smack resounding in the room. “Love this ass.” You yelped, flinching at the sudden brisk pain. His hand stroked over the sore spot. “You should let me eat that too.” Your eyes widened. You weren’t completely opposed to that idea. 

“Mmm, you’re a munch.” Jungkook snorted, leaning over to peck your lips twice. “Only for you though.” 

“Damn right.”

You opened your eyes to gaze up at him. He looked at peace. There was a faint trace of a smile on his lips. His orbs were scanning you, drinking you in. 

“Still want this dick?” 

You nodded, caressing over his chest and neck. Your hand fell as he stood on his knees hovering over your body. You bit your bottom lip as he reached down to squeeze the base of his dick. He huffed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before reopening. 

“Yes, please. I need it, baby. Can’t wait any longer.” You were not too proud to beg. If your boyfriend didn’t get inside of you soon you were going to lose your mind. Future you will certainly cringe at how needy you were being though. 

He guided his tip through your dripping core, slowly dragging up and down and then back up again to circle your achy clit. 

You hissed as your legs fell open wider. “Are you sure?” with a free hand he pushed away the hair falling over his face. “I would think three orgasms is enough, no?” There was a pleased smirk on his face. He was enjoying this little game of teasing you. 

“Koo,” you whined, hooking your legs over his hips to draw him in closer. Your breath hitched as his tip caught on your entrance.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “How can I deny you when you beg so nicely?”

 Smoothly he slid into you inch after gratifying inch. He filled you to the brim, the stretch was so good you could come on the spot. Your walls avidly accepted him, sucking him in without much resistance at all. You could feel every thick, prominent vein running along his cock. Your brows pinched together as your head fell back onto your pillow.

“Fuck,” Jungkook drawled out as your warm pussy gripped him tight. “How do you always feel so fucking good, hmm?” Sinful moans rolled freely from his tongue, the heat and wetness of your cunt had his head reeling. He was teetering on the edge of an orgasm without even getting to properly fuck you yet. 

You squirmed underneath him, before canting your hips up to grind on his dick. “Jungkook,” you huffed, frustration clear in your voice. He raised his eyebrow, letting you work yourself on his cock for a moment. Without a single word, he slid out of you almost completely, tip barely still snug in your walls. You almost complained at the absence of him until he slid back into your pussy filling you deeper than before. You could cry in relief.

“Fuck,” you yelped, hands scrambling to find something to hold on to before they settled on his shoulders. 

“My greedy baby,” he purred, voice dripping with lust. He gave you two more long strokes. You gasped into the open air. “You just needed to be fucked right? All you needed was this dick?” You nodded, bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “I need it, baby please.”

 “Don’t worry pretty,” his smirk was sinful, almost devilish. “I’ll give you what you want.” The two of you fell into a heated, frantic rhythm, incredibly desperate to feel one another. The wet smacking sounds of your bodies colliding could only be described as sonorous. Above you, you watched as Jungkook worked his hips into you expertly, never failing to hit every sensitive spot you didn’t even know existed inside you. You were so worked up, that you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your peak again.

 Tiny beads of sweat were beginning to run down the sides of his face from his excursion. His scowl was present again, mouth wide open to allow unabashed moans to fall freely from his lips. He always moaned so sweetly. 

He hit you at an angle so deep, that you both moaned in response. “Uhn, Koo! Love the way you fuck me, baby,” you trembled in his hold. 

“I love it more baby,” he grunted, grinding his hips into yours.

Grabbing your hand into his, he brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of it. Halting his movements for a brief second, he leaned down to capture your lips between his, drawing you into a filthy kiss. His hips picked up again as your lips slid against each other, panting into each other’s mouths rather than kissing. When he pulled away there was a string of saliva connecting you both. 

He gasped, closing his eyes at the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him. “I love you so much, baby. God, I can’t get enough of you.” Your heart swelled in your chest. How could he still be so sweet while pounding you into oblivion? 

“I love you too baby,” you gasped. “Love you so fucking much!” 

“M’ not gonna last,” Jungkook whined, fingers digging into your hips. You weren’t surprised, while you were three orgasms in Jungkook hadn’t relieved himself once.

He positioned your legs over his shoulders being careful of your ankle, driving his cock into you deeper. His heavy balls slapped lewdly against your ass. You yelped, your breath hitching as the thick head brushed over your g-spot. “Fu-Koo! Right there!”

He swiveled his hips, his cock rubbing over the spongy area, that had shivers running down your spine. You could feel your arousal leaking from where you were connected, trailing down your ass. It gathered into a filthy pool of sweat and arousal beneath you. There was no saving these bedsheets. 

“Want you to come again, pretty. Need to see you come again.” You were so sensitive- too sensitive, you weren’t sure you could even come again. But you wanted to so badly, you wanted to be good for Jungkook.

Jungkook licked the pad of his thumb, and brought it down between your bodies, rubbing figure eight into your bundle of nerves. You were so wet it slipped a couple of times before he could get into a perfect rhythm. He was now snapping into at a pace so maddening you could barely breathe. That heavy tension in the pit of your tummy returned building and building as he fucked you quicker and deeper. Your eyes began to burn with unshed tears. 

“Baby, m’ so close! Gon-ah! Gonna come,” your words slurred together. 

Jungkook chuckled huskily above you, his breath hitting your face at the same pace he was fucking you. “So damn pretty. Come for me again baby.” He turned his neck to peck kisses into your sweaty calf. “Cream all over this dick.” 

It didn’t take much for you to come again, just a gentle brush of fingertips across your nipples had you reeling. Your back arched as you froze, your vision blurring. There was a loud ringing in your ears. A gush of release rushed out of you once, twice, and then a third time. It felt euphoric. 

You screamed, your spent walls spasming around your boyfriend. “Fuck Jungkook, fuck!” You collapsed onto your bed; your bones feeling like jell-o. You laid there motionless as the ringing subsided in your ears.

Jungkook groaned from above you. “Look at that, baby.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Still blissed out, you struggled to open your eyes. Finally looking down at what your boyfriend was referring to you gasped. There was a sizeable wet stain on your mattress, right under your ass. Your thighs and Jungkook's groin were also wet. Too wet to be sweat. 

He smirked, “You made a mess.” 

You felt yourself flush, unable to respond. Your mouth opened and closed, and then opened again in search of a response. 

 Jungkook chuckled above you, snatching you up in his arms. “You’re so damn hot,” he growled, sitting you on his cock. You winced slightly, overstimulation running through you. Sensitive but still good.

Fervently, he thrusted up into you, trapping you within his hold. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning your head down onto his shoulder. The damp skin was salty as you scraped your teeth across the area, your fingers tangled in his hair. Jungkook shivered as he grounded his hips into yours. He panted wetly beside your ear, airy moans and whines trembling out of his mouth. He was so, so close. 

You were too exhausted to say anything, instead stamping wet kisses across his neck to his throat, letting him have his way with you.

Still sensitive from your intense orgasm, your pussy clenched tight. “Ah!” He cried out, bouncing you harder on his dick to meet his thrusts. 

“Are you close, Koo,” you purred, biting his earlobe while your nails grazed his neck.

He cried out as his eyes shut. “Pussy’s too fucking good.” 

“Cum for me baby. Want it inside me.” You clenched your hand in his hair, pulling his locks, forcing his head back.

He gripped you tighter, thrusting deep. A broken wail of your name tumbles from his lips as he cums. You swear you could feel him swell inside you. He whines high in your ear as thick ropes of his semi-transparent seed paint your walls. You hum detaching yourself from his throat. He now sported a mark matching your own. Leaning down, you slotted your lips together with his, kissing him slow and deep. 

──•◦❥•◦──

Encased in your boyfriend’s arms, you felt warm in all the best ways. After fucking the daylights out of you, you cleaned off together, washing away all the vulgarity of your previous activities. Though Jungkook did most of the work as you were so drained you could barely stand up.

When you finally tumbled into bed, all clean and comfortable, Jungkook entertained any questions you had about his ability. No matter how ridiculous or nonsensical they seemed.

You'd found out that he was born a werewolf - the first time he'd shifted was his thirteenth birthday. He would be considered an alpha in the werewolf hierarchy, though he wasn't the pack leader, that was his father. Unlike what is commonly believed, werewolf mates weren't predestined, they were able to choose their mates themselves. That one made your heart beat a little faster.

From behind, Jungkook kissed your naked shoulder. You hummed, still gazing at your hand clasped together with his. You could barely keep your eyes open, the urge to sleep overtaking your body by the minute. You had another question though.

“When you shifted in front of me it seemed…” You searched for a word. “Involuntary. How come?” 

“Usually when I shift it is voluntarily, completely up to me.” You nodded still listening. “The only time it’s not voluntary is when there’s a full moon. Like tonight. Heightened emotions also make it more difficult to suppress it.” 

“Ohh,” you muttered. That made sense. “That’s why it seemed painful? You were trying to avoid it?” 

“Mhmm.”

 It was silent for a moment. There was one more question burning in your mind.

“Koo?” 

He hummed in acknowledgment. “I have another question.”

“Sure baby.”

“When you um,” you cleared your throat. You felt Jungkook move behind you, sitting up to gaze at your face. “When you uh, came. How come it wasn’t…,” you trailed off, too embarrassed to finish. 

“How come it wasn’t what, sweetheart?” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“How come it wasn’t you know, a lot. Like it the stories.” You’d always read that whenever werewolves ejaculated it was a substantial amount, but when your boyfriend did, it was average. Granted, those were fanfictions and this was real life. 

It was silent. When you turned to face him, you were greeted with his smug grin. “What stories might that be?”

“St~op,” you whined, swatting at his chest. He chuckled capturing his hand in yours, kissing it twice.  

“Well, if you must know, you little minx,” you playfully rolled your eyes. “That only happens when I’m in my rut and I’m assuming you know what that means since you’ve read the stories.”

You hummed. “So I’m guessing that whole knot thing is to amp up the stories too right?” You tried to hide the relief in your voice. Jungkook settled back against your pillows making himself comfortable. “Oh no. That part’s very real.”

Your eyes widened. “What?!” 

──•◦❥•◦──

Thank you for reading!♡ 

Copyright © 2024 Spicybutterfly

All rights reserved.

Distribution, copying, reposting, or translating of any kind is not permitted. I will take legal action against those who attempt to steal my work.

[milktiicup]

Please I'd give you my kidneys for mr hood romantic hcs 😞🧎‍♀️

sfw romantic mr hood headcanons!

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ u just keep ur kidneys honey >w<

warnings. literally nothing / maybe some spoilers

🌊Just because he doesn’t understand what the whole liking each other business, doesn’t mean he can’t feel it. He knows he wants you around and wants you to be safe, and if you want him around- who’s he to say no and leave you all on your own? 

🌊 Obviously, he doesn’t exactly have a head to kiss you with, but not all acts of love are physical. He protects you, he keeps you warm, he makes sure you're fed and well rested. He takes better care of you than you take care of yourself.

🌊He keeps you up on your language game, pointing at objects in the room and asking you for their name. He’s patient, and he’s kind, so he’s not going to tell you off if you get it wrong. Get it right, however, and you’ve got a swift pat on the head.

🌊Most, if not all physical affection you’ll receive is a pat on the head, or when he picks you up if you want him to carry you. When it’s on the colder side, he’s not opposed to lifting his cloak up so you can snuggle up to his slimy body (if you don’t mind it). 

🌊 He’s not opposed to learning your language, but he doesn’t really see a purpose for him to learn, either. He changes his mind quickly when he sees how happy you are that he repeated a phrase you taught him.

🌊 He’s not a big speaker- but he’s a good listener, even if you start blabbing in your own language, he’ll listen to you without question. On a good day, he might even ask you a few questions about whatever you were talking about. 

🌊 He just wants you to be safe- so if you go out your way to be silly or get yourself in any type of danger, expect a scolding. He’s not gonna just leave you to fend for yourself, though- he’d get any amount of blood on his hands if it meant you were alive and well by his side.

[maniculum]

Hear me out: this is a mostly plausible alternate history alphabet.

The places where this one is wrong are all the most RECENT changes to the English alphabet.* So clearly we’re looking at an alternate history with a point of divergence sometime around the late medieval / early modern period. It's got to be a post-printing-press era because the handful of letters that occurred in English but not Latin during the medieval period are all absent, and the development of the printing press was the final push that made English drop them.**

First, ⟨j⟩ wasn’t invented in this timeline. Note that ⟨j⟩ is a very recent letter; there’s no attestation of it being used to represent a distinct sound before the 16th century, and that idea didn’t make it into English until the 17th century. Before then, ⟨i⟩ was doing extra duty. ⟨j⟩ actually developed from a variant of ⟨i⟩ — if you’re familiar with the “long s”, it’s like if someone decided that we should split it off as its own letter, so e.g. ⟨s⟩ made the /s/ sound and ⟨ſ⟩ made the /ʃ/ sound.*** There was a conventional usage where sometimes you'd put a little hook on the ⟨i⟩ depending on its position in the word, just like the long s was position-dependent, and we turned the hooked ⟨i⟩ into ⟨j⟩.

Second, ⟨w⟩ developed differently. Now, ⟨w⟩ as its own letter is also recent, BUT there was already a substantial history of people using a literal double-u -- ⟨uu⟩ -- to represent that sound. However, the differentiation between ⟨u⟩ and ⟨v⟩ is also quite recent, following similar logic to the ⟨i⟩ and ⟨j⟩ thing from above, and developing around the same timeframe, which is why even though we call ⟨w⟩ a "double-u" in English, it looks more like a double-v (and in fact some languages call it that). At the time we named it, those were functionally the same thing; whether the name solidified as "double-u" or "double-v" was pretty much arbitrary. Anyway, you could interpret this alternate alphabet as having split ⟨w⟩ in two at the same time they split ⟨u⟩ and ⟨v⟩: perhaps the ⟨w⟩ with the blob in the middle could represent a "crossed" ⟨w⟩.**** If you want a speculative usage of the second ⟨w⟩ (which we could name "double-v"), I propose that one could represent /w/ and the other could represent /ʍ/.***** Of course, if I were designing an alphabet that split ⟨w⟩, I'd literally do a double-u and a double-v, so that the two characters were ⟨ɯ⟩ and ⟨w⟩.

The semicolon is a tough one, and the reason I described this as MOSTLY plausible. The only possible explanation I can advance is that its inclusion is inspired by the history of the ampersand, ⟨&⟩. For a time, ⟨&⟩ was included as a letter of the English alphabet, usually listed at the end. One could imagine the designer of this alternate alphabet as deciding that they also wanted to change things up by including a punctuation mark, and picking ⟨;⟩. But of course this is misguided, because in fact ⟨&⟩ isn't a punctuation mark; it's a ligature of ⟨et⟩, and I believe technically it qualifies as a logogram.

* I specify "English" because I am not up on the history of orthographical innovation in other languages that use the Latin alphabet. I’m sure there have been more recent changes in other languages’ implementation of the Latin alphabet, but these are the most recent changes that apply to English.

** When Europeans first started making movable type, it was designed to print Latin, so letters not in Latin weren’t available, meaning printed texts couldn’t have ⟨ð⟩, ⟨þ⟩, ⟨ƿ⟩, or ⟨ȝ⟩. Some Norse languages held onto ⟨ð⟩ and/or ⟨þ⟩ anyway and eventually people did make type for them, but English ditched them pretty quickly. To my knowledge no current writing system uses ⟨ƿ⟩ or ⟨ȝ⟩; ⟨ƿ⟩ didn't seem to fully catch on even in the medieval period, and I don't think ⟨ȝ⟩ was ever in use outside of the British Isles. English orthography was kind of already phasing out its extra letters even before printing arrived, so they never had a chance.

*** For people who don’t know IPA, /ʃ/ is the sound English currently represents with ⟨sh⟩. English apparently decided that “add an ⟨h⟩” was the basic solution to differentiating any two consonant sounds, as likewise it replaced ⟨ð⟩/⟨þ⟩ with ⟨th⟩ and ⟨ȝ⟩ with ⟨gh⟩.

**** Annoyingly, there's no Unicode symbol for "crossed W", but it's the style that they use in the Wikipedia logo if you want an example. The two ⟨V⟩s overlap in a kind of x shape instead of meeting at a point in the middle.

***** The phoneme /ʍ/ does occur in English, but it's a little hard for me to describe because it's fallen out of a lot of dialects, including my own. If you pronounce ⟨w⟩ and ⟨wh⟩ differently, your ⟨wh⟩ is probably /ʍ/.

One of the greatest Tweets and it hasn't even existed for 24 hours

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Viktor x Reader Headcanons

Pronouns for reader: Gender neutral, AFAB undertones if you squint

Relationship type: Platonic to Romantic

General Idea: Some silly little headcanons I have for Viktor because he's still my silly little princess. Even after the whole glorious evolution thing.

Content Warnings: S1 Viktor, no S2 spoilers, But there as little bit of s2 viktor's mindset, I'm projecting a little bit (a lot) but it's fine.

~☆~

I honestly see Viktor as asexual with light aromantic undertones (kinda like demiromantic, I guess??). He rarely ever developes romantic feelings. Like its a once in a blue moon thing.

Like... he has to know you for YEARS before something in his head is like "Oh... hey they kinda cute?"

However, when he DOES develop feelings that go beyond friendship, Viktor HEAVILY struggles with coming to terms with them. Not in like a "I don't DO feelings" type way, but more in a "Well... no... it could be this" type of way.

Oh, his heart rate speeds up a little bit when you two accidently brush hands? It must just be his nerves.

When he does realize that he has feelings for someone, it's kind of like that scene in Gravity Falls where Dipper is like "It's not like I stay awake at night thinking about Wendy" and it cuts to him laying awake thinking about Wendy XD

If he likes someone romantically, he talks about them a lot. Like as if trying to bring them up as much as he can. Like "Oh (Y/N) mentioned something about that book, said they really liked it" Or "(Y/N) actually said something similar about that topic" If he could yap about you for hours, he probably would.

Even if you're being PAINFULLY obvious about your romantic feelings towards Viktor, he will firmly believe you're just being friendly.

Why he does it is a mix between two things: one is that he's just not awesome with people. And second is that he firmly believes someone like you could never love someone like him back.

One night, Viktor had been constantly working without break, so you practically dragged him to his room by his ear and forced him to get some rest.

Viktor has a strong habit of having his workspace FILLED with old mugs, sometimes days old. He doesn't really mean to, just too wrapped up in Hextech to really notice.

He also struggles with meals too. Just like above, because he literally just gets too wrapped up in his work.

If Viktor actually confesses feelings, it's such an interesting experience. Because he doesn't just flat out say "Hey I have feelings for you". He stumbles over his words and rambles about something random in the middle of it. So you gotta help him out a little bit.

Viktor's love language is quality time. He'll make sure his seat is next to you when it can, he always yaps about what he's uncovered about Hextech.

Speaking of Hextech, if you just sit there and watch him work? He'd about die of happiness on the spot. If you, someone he really loved, took an interest to something he truly loved DOING? Perfect.

He used to get really flustered about physical affection. Like you held his hand one time and he about combusted. He was red in the face for hours. He got better with it overtime, of course. But for the first few months, he was pretty much bright red the whole time.

Dates are rare, neither of you have the time for it. But when you two do have dates of some kind, they're mostly stay at home type things.

You know that thing kids do? Like playing their own separate things together? Parallel play, I think it's called? Yeah you two do that a lot.

Viktor will be reading some papers and you'll be reading a book, your feet in his lap.

Speaking of, Viktor is such a reader omg He doesn't read a lot anymore due to his constant workload, but when he does, he reads a lot of like... old books. The ones with yellowing pages and smell nice? Yeah... those ones!

If you two slept in the same bed, he'd be all like... giggly and nervous the first few times. Just like affection, he'd get used to it. But it's still cute.

When you two are cuddling, run your fingers in his hair. He'll melt right into you regardless of the situation. It's like an instant relax button for him.

Him laying his head on your chest, and you running your fingers through his hair? Something about it just... works. It calms him down a lot and makes him feel at peace.

His favorite place to kiss is the crook of your neck. Especially if you're around his height (he's like... between 5'7 and 5'10. I don't remember exactly).

Or your temples. It's simple, it doesn't attract a lot of attention. And let's be real, it's underrated as hell.

He's not big on PDA, but he'll hold your hand in public. He likes holding onto just one of your fingers, like your pinkie or something like that. It, just like temple kisses, is simple and discreet.

He doesn't often say "I love you". He feels bad about it, but you don't mind. He often says I love you without saying it. Things like holding you while you sleep, kissing your forehead as you two read in each other's arms, weaving your fingers with his while he works.

He gets self-conscious a lot. He thinks you could do a lot better than him and that he's not perfect.

Please kiss this poor boy all over and tell him he's perfect as is 😭😭

~☆~

A/N:The Arcane brainrot has gotten to me... This is how I'm coping with the finale. But I've wanted to write Viktor or Sevika stuff for a HOT minute now. I've been in the Arcane fandom for YEARS (a fanfic writer even longer) but this is my first Arcane fic... wild XD

For more fics: my masterlist!

~Squeed

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part three)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: roughly 1.4k words

PARTS: ONE, TWO

As soon as you left Hayward’s office, Agatha started furiously typing on her phone, the crease between her brows growing deeper with each step out the building. You simply followed; uncertain of what else you were meant to be doing right now. Packing, you supposed. But your first priority was to get some information out of the woman, who was currently on a mission to remove herself from the building, striding at least three steps ahead of you at all times.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting in the taxi that you finally had the chance to speak. “So…” You started, paused, then realised she wasn’t going to put her phone down anytime soon. You sighed. “We’re going to Salem?”

“Unfortunately,” Agatha murmured. “If I can get in contact with my mother, that is.” She spat, resuming her frantic typing.

You scowled, leant closer to peak at the phone screen and tried desperately to ignore the way her perfume pleasantly filled your nostrils. Something about being in close proximity with Agatha was mesmerising. It always had been, but it seemed this latest situation was worsening your complex feelings towards her. If someone asked you to label it, you would say admiration, but deep down you knew it was something greater than that. You simply refused to acknowledge it.

“So, you weren’t originally going to visit?”

Despite having to be involved in Agatha’s life, you had never heard her talk about her family. Not once. It didn’t surprise you. It was near impossible to picture the woman in any scenario other than sitting behind a desk, winding up one of your coworkers for their incompetence, or shmoozing a business deal. Although you imagined her prickly personality had to come from somewhere, and shuddered to think what her mother might be like.

“No.” Agatha scoffed. “I try my best to stay as far away from family gatherings as possible.”

“I’m guessing you’re not close…?” You questioned, slow and cautious.

“God no.” She shook her head, strands of hair coming loose from the vehement movement. “I want nothing to do with my mother and her coven of freaks.”

You tutted, suppressing a smirk at her colourful choice of language. But instead of pursuing the topic further, you turned to look at the scenery flying past the window. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it to Hayward then…”

“Well, with your parents ever so conveniently out of the country, it did appear suspicious that we wouldn’t tell a single soul.”

“Could’ve eloped.” You murmured.

“Sorry, darling.”  Agatha droned; her tone petulant. “Next time I’ll set us up a nice horse-drawn carriage down to the registry office.”

You took in a deep breath, ignoring the surge of irritation at her smarminess, something you recognised you would have to learn to cope with for the next painful while. You had no idea how long this whole process would take, and realised with a sudden stab of guilt that you would have to eventually inform your parents of this decision.

If you explained it was to keep your boss’ position at the company, rather than any dumb, spontaneous act of love, they would surely understand, right?   

“Agatha?” You called, met by a hum of acknowledgement. “Are you telling your family the real reason for this marriage, or are we going to have to keep faking it?”

“Oh, my mother’s a raging homophobe.” Agatha chuckled bitterly, refusing to meet your eyes. “If she doesn’t immediately kick you out, I’m going to enjoy riling her up.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

At last, Agatha’s focus was diverted from her phone as she looked briefly over to you, mildly intrigued by your perseverance. “I was just going to see how it went when we get there.” She replied, shrugging.

“Great…”

“And until then, don’t mention this to a single soul.” Agatha jabbed an accusatory finger in your direction. “We continue as normal for the next day and a half, with me singlehandedly driving this company to success, and you following me about all dazed and heart-eyed.”

“What!” You protested. “I do not follow you about, nor do I have heart eyes!”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” She smirked, radiating an irritating charm that had you forgetting how to breathe for a second. You wrung your hands about anxiously in your lap, willing yourself to relax.

“Our flight leaves at 6pm on Friday, so we’ll have to go straight from work,” Agatha said, changing the subject. “You can hide your luggage in my office, and we’ll have my driver pick us up so that saves that hassle…”

She trailed off suddenly, and despite your insistence on not getting too caught up in the intricacies of your boss’ behaviour, you peaked over at her. Just like earlier in the immigration office, she was chewing at her lip, this time with a faraway expression. You frowned, sensing she was nervous about something. It set you slightly on edge to see her this way. Agatha was never nervous. Big meetings didn’t faze her, important deadlines never stressed her out and public speaking was like a second nature to her. Where once this bravery had been sickeningly envious, its disappearance now gave you concern.

Agatha was a mystery to you, one you were reluctant to address, yet desperate to understand.

---

Agatha flopped down onto her desk chair with a huff, allowing her head to fall backwards and feeling her neck crack with the movement. The tension that racked her body seemed to grudgingly resist lessening, and she considered whether she ought to just take the remainder of the day off. But that would be suspicious...

She loathed the idea that her every decision was being monitored but dreaded to imagine the other option: moving back home, back in her mother’s grasp. She hadn’t seen the woman in over ten years, and to think now that she would spend the weekend in her company… Agatha groaned, letting her face crash forward into her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, and in the darkness saw only her mother, pictured how she would be reacting to the news that Agatha would be joining them for part of the trip.

As per usual, her attempt to reach out to her mother had been met by silence. She was starting to suspect her number was blocked, and thus Agatha had instead chosen to inform Lilia Calderu about this impromptu reunion. The woman was cooky, but kind. She had always been Agatha’s one ally within the family, and since her emancipation, was the only one who had bothered to stay in contact.

As if abruptly summoned from her thoughts, Agatha’s phone buzzed across the table, likely holding more information from Lilia. With a sigh, she reached forward to raise the lit screen into her eye line, yet was surprised to be met by another’s name

[4:10pm] Jennifer Kale: you’re coming to Salem????

Agatha chuckled, though not out of humour. Jen was one of the many people her mother seemed to just acquire. It was a terrible feature of Evanore Harkness: that the crazy gravitated towards her, became involved in their family and never left.

The word ‘family’ didn’t quite sit right with Agatha. It was more like a cult.

[4:11pm] Agatha Harkness: I am. I take it you’re still hanging about?

[4:12pm] Jennifer Kale: well when you abandoned ship someone had to replace you.

Agatha scoffed, ignoring the wave of irritation at Jen’s phrasing. She was irreplaceable. Though the idea that her own mother should even try to swap one daughter out for another didn’t exactly come as a surprise. Nonetheless, it still hurt. Agatha crossed her arms over her chest, deciding to pursue the conversation no further.

[4:15pm] Jennifer Kale: Lilia mentioned you were bringing a plus-one. who is she?

At this, Agatha’s loathing softened ever so slightly. Jen was one of the few that had supported her coming out, had even attempted to defend her from Evanora’s outrage. She picked the phone back up, feeling a smile grace her lips as she started to type.

[4:15pm] Agatha Harkness: someone I’ve been seeing for a while. She’s nice. You’ll like her.

The message was a simple lie, but it did the job.

Still, reading it back Agatha found she had a lot more to say about you…

NEXT PART

[go-learn-esperanto]

Hey what do the new ao3 rules mean? Like what changed? I know this stuff is probably pretty simple to understand but I have a hard time wrapping my head around legal stuff and I figured it's better to ask

I'll try giving an easy summary of the new Ao3 TOS for you:

All the types of fics that were allowed before are still allowed. No changes there, only rewording.

Restructuring of TOS. Basically they divided it into 3 parts so it's easier for the users to look up something they want to check on. There was also a part that was moved to somewhere else. The information is still there just not on the TOS, because the committee believed it didn't belong in the TOS.

They tried to make the language easier to understand.

They made the Abuse Policy more generalised aka now the AO3 Policy & Abuse committee can more freely decide how to deal with TOS violations.

The "underage" tag is named "underage sex" now so it can be clearer.

They clarified that it's prohibited to use any Ao3 content for commercial use, and they specified scrapping for later commercial use aka "Fuck You AI Scrapping".

I'm obsessed with the fact that they state in the changes that now that they don't warn people that there may be works on Ao3 with bad spelling and grammar, and that on the FAQ they now include a question saying something saying "there's not grammatical or spelling standards". They really said "You are legally allowed to write horrendously, without shame. We won't tell on you." LOL

All other small changes are to do with very minutes changes on how the Board of directors Vote or that single cases of Ao3 TOS abuse are now not voted on by all the PAC volunteers because it's impractical with the amount of users and cases they get. Now they have a line of work and ban decisions are required to go through multiple people.

The reality is that not much has changed and most of the new TOS is only rewording and clarifications. Internal changes in the way Ao3 operates are really just so things can be done more efficiently considering the millions of users Ao3 has.

They also specify that they haven't added specific bans on having fics made with AI/having AI help on the website however that if a fic is found to be too similar to another work, writing wise, than can be a plagerism or copywrite violation.

Here's the official post detailing all the changes in TOS